My contribution to The Challenge this weekend:
©Kathy Larson
All rights reserved
No Pity
I am a very proudful person, she said
So much so, that I have lost my sight.
Now, as I stumble in the darkness
I wonder: what good is this silly pride
I cling to? The bruises on my heart
and on my body are not badges
Of honour, they mark me as a fool.
I, who would not bend
Am broken. Had only my hearing
also been taken I would
Not have to suffer your pity.
The following was supposed to be my entry in last weekend’s challenge. I got de-railed and now that I’ve come back to this I don’t know how to finish it. I think it was a good start to something, though. Anyone want to have a go at it? Maybe we can tag-team a story out of it? Could be fun. Thanks.
“It’s a little up in the air right now,” she said, with a hint of Mona Lisa smile.
He gave her a puzzled look, but said nothing. He was trying to be cool, didn’t want to lose it. She wasn’t making it easy.
With deliberate slowness she extended her hand — fine-boned, with long, tapered fingers ending in perfectly rounded, pale pink-polished nails — turned it palm up and held it out before him. She tilted her head as she did this and he had the feeling that he was somehow being reprimanded, though to this point he had behaved with nothing but the utmost calm and courtesy.
