exercise 1

exercise 1

You’re never really rich until you realize that what you’ve wanted doesn’t really matter anymore. The faint outline of an hourglass figure whisked itself across the meadow in a hurrying pace, as if treading through a marsh to escape the vicious clamp of a gator of some sort. The vision was blurry, as the only light emanating through the woods was from the pale face of the moon and some shimmering beam behind her, but one could feel the heavy sentiment of escape permeating the atmosphere in darkness.

“Irita!”

A faint call followed loosely behind her. The words came from the mouth of a heavy set man in his mid twenties, whose face was slightly more illuminated — though his eyes were dark — due to a pendulum light that waved back and forth against the trees as he ran. A deafening gait and trudging atmosphere matched his dark brows with his livid frame; one could only assume that there was no escape from this man, lest through some way to cleverly misguide his sorry intellect. Scaley in his features, but quick and adept in his social ways, the man ran after the hourglass figure.

“Irita! Come home!”

Uncaught, the words tumbled through the air missing the girl and her savory fantasies. If only there were some way out. Charming yet incompetent, the young Irita shimmied her way through the darkness, snatching her pale ankles against the undergrowth and dirtying her nightgown. Silence was usually her favor, or dismissal, but tonight she knew she would either escape her tormentor or kill herself. Suicide was out of fashion, but the uncanny feeling of dread everytime she came home was dreadful. Is this all to marriage? I mean, loving someone forever was never part of the plan — wedlock had rather done it’s deed of convergence easier than that, but to suffer constantly under the breath of a man whom she had no heart at all for: this was unbearable!

The pattering of her feet stopped for a split second as she ran, or rather waded, into the river. It flowed somewhere into the River Lea but the undercurrent would take her to a place she didn’t know — all she knew was that it was better than this lie, life, whatever.

“I’ll kill myself if you don’t let me go!” was the pitiful plea she called to the now bobbing bulb of light on the shore. She was getting in deeper into the waters, but the last thing she wanted was a coma. Yes, it was escape in some sense.. but imagine the devastation of being conscious all the while being tended to that bore with the flashlight in the distance.

“Irita, don’t make a fool out of me and swim back — else I’m going to have to come get you.”

The man took his boots off, cast them off to the side and waded in.

Oh, she didn’t have the courage to drown herself, she couldn’t! Mishaps and misdeeds, maybe she should have put stones in her pocket — how long does it take for someone to suffocate? Her lungs were not particularly strong, maybe three minutes under the surface? He’s coming now, go under! The rush of water against her face felt colder than she had imagined, and she let herself go. The sound and fury of a distant man became blurry and incoherent; this was it, there is no way out. And yet even still, deep inside she felt some sense of remorse, or fear that perhaps she wasn’t brave enough for this. A coward could always live life — this was understood — but to die and shimmy out of it was a brave man’s deed. Selfish, yes, pathetic, perhaps, but at the very least dignified in it’s proper communication of: I don’t want to live anymore, not with you, not with him, not with myself, I don’t care. Catholic sentiment was pervasive in her mind, maybe there was only hell waiting, but at a certain point, one comes to the realization that real pain in life is loneliness. The constancy of apathy as well as not being alone, but without any way out of the frustration inside. She was certain there was worse than her circumstances, because there obviously was, but people were only created to take a certain amount of pain — and of that she was sure she reached her pathetic limit. Unfortunately, although years and years of constant love and admiration had told her some sense of being a desired character, she knew inside that she wasn’t meant to be lonely, and death was a liberty given to her only through these dire circumstances. She was weak inside and was willing to give it up — at least then people would finally understand her life. Maybe she wan’t courageous enough to drown herself, but at least she could try. There is always dignity in the attempt.

Before most of these thoughts ran through poor Irita’s head, a heavy arm reached down into the cold river and pulled her out.

“Goddamnit Irita, I should have you sent to a mental hospital for all the pain you cause me!”

“Pain I cause you? You insufferable intolerable beast! I don’t want to live with you anymore, but I don’t have anywhere to go. I want to kill myself, Richard”

“Don’t shame me Irita, after all I’ve done for you. At least give me the decency of looking like a gentleman in front my friends. What would they think if they saw this?”