Bring urgency with the same precision as a hunter.
Evaluate the risk,
Shoot.
Don’t hesitate.
In that time,
I’ve already picked you apart.
Catch me early,
Before I attack.
Only then,
Will you have the chance,
To emulate the power
Of a woman.
~Art by yours truly
The house she envisions. Vast in greenery, far as the eye can see. Fear can’t extend to this prestige mountain home. The gentle song of birds are the only splash-back and clarity seeps from every corner of tapestry. It’s only here, where she deems safe.
She runs towards it, shoes in hand, gasping for breath. Wolves chase, gripping their teeth into her desperation. Snapping at her vulnerability while shreds of white cotton fall to the earth. The leader of the pack makes it hard to gain ground, constantly pouncing every time she stands tall. They feed off her soft exterior. The growls drown out any cries for help.
But I hear her.
She frantically begins climbing up the steep hill towards the house. Dress shredded, hands covered in blood. Falling to the ground, shoes tightly wrapped around bruised nail beds. Shaking and disoriented, she cannot see.
But I see her.
“Silly girl, what are you doing?”
I walk towards her broken pieces, pick them up and face them gently towards the destruction she had been running from. I rattled the tiny remaining fragments into the clean air.
“Look closely at what you’re hiding from. This is what you’ve created.”
Slowly raising her head from the hallucination of bloody hands and defeat. She stared back into the greenery that laid out so beautifully ahead. Eventually locking eyes with the pack of wolves, who now sheepishly retract. Snarling teeth replaced with apologies and claws morphing into severed promises. Her dress, perfectly placed. Her delicate hands, now unscathed.
“So listen, and listen carefully. Like all art, the process is simple, but a single misstep can kill you. Don’t rush, child: first, you must prepare yourself for the call. The songs of the sirens are sweet but deadly; they’ll cut through rope and twine and strike only at the heart. The heart, you see, is a deceitful thing. Its blood will choke you as fast as it gushes with life. In the end, it’s your heart that will guide the knife to your own throat.”- Shreya Vikram
With a slight nudge, she takes the first step back down into the ethereal environment. Bare foot and painless. She directs her attention to one of the wolves. Walks confidently up to the broken animal, stares straight back into his blue eyes and states;
“Start running”.
Heather Lee 