April 15, 2010

Short Story-2

That was so long ago, she mused. Her limbs ached with a kind of tiredness that was not just physical. Yes, age had finally caught up with her, after running a furlong behind in the marathon of life.

She shook the dust of the cloth. It was lying like a rag in the corner of the room. She remembered the exact moment she had cast it off. Tearing it into shreds, fat drops of tears wetting its surface, and a guttaral cry of hatred and the throw to that forgotten corner.

Long ago suddenly seemed like now. The memories had just played their trick on her, all at once intensifying the simmering flame of thought and evoking everything.

She didn't cry this time. She felt the texture of the cloth, and with it, its memories and smiled. It didn't really matter anymore. But she felt tired, very tired for having to go through the motions of the past once again.

She threw the cloth back into the forgotten corner and decided she needed a nap.

1 comment

popartlover said...

And the forlorn rag lied there, just the way she was, mortified and dejected. Once upon a time.

© Dryad's Peak
Maira Gall