…He thought he could escape, but that was not quite the case, because she was going to find him, and ask him to explain…

Love that …. feeling, that sends us to euphorias and vistas that are astounding and unbelievable. And then what happens a little bit later, after some of the intoxication has worn off. What if the person that you liked disappeared or wood not talk to you for some reason? Woodn’t you want to know why? Woodn’t you want an explanation?

She had been in love with him. He was always in the back of her mind. She had been so crazy about him that he had not even had to be there for her to feel the effect. Just the mention of his name would send her into a head spin, and her eyes would get all smiley and dreamy. But she never knew if he was real or not. He was there and then he was not. She had tried many times to find him, to ask him why he played these unkind games? Why did he treat her in such a mean manner? Did he not realize that she had true affection for him?

It did not matter anyway because she had a problem. She was sick. The bad people and her ex-husband told her that she was made of wood. The kind of wood that could be cut, mutilated, shaped, and burned. They told her she was a wooden indian lady. Her body was made of rotting wood, rotting because it had not been burned by the only burn they wood allow. The burn of love. Her body was ill. She thought maybe he had helped her with this, but he had not completely fixed the problem, and the illness had returned. He knew this wood happen too, she realized this. The illness was relentless, it was eating her alive. She felt the essence of her spirit ebbing. Her energy was draining. The illness had been eating at her for years, and it was winning. Everyday that she looked into the mirror after her daily shower, was one more day that she looked more dead.

She had decided to search for him, and find the answers that she needed. She needed to see his disdain in person. How could she crawl in her deathly state to the other side of the world and speak to him. Just the lack of acknowledgement was so hurtful, especially since she was ill. She wood crawl up the stairs to his apartment with her bony fingers clawing at one more step to pull her dead emaciated body up a little further. By the time she reached the doorstep and rang the bell. She wood actually be nothing more than a rotting corpse with chunks of flesh falling off.

He wood answer the door and scream. It wood give her a strange satisfaction. His wife wood scream too. They wood be frozen with whorror. Her rotting corpse wood waltz into the room and dance with the baby. The baby wood be the only one that truly thought it was funny, because the baby was made of wood too. The baby wood coo and smile with glee.


Copyright ©2008 JANE À PARIS



Joined February 2008

  • Artist
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Artist's Description

Here is a love story turned to love gory…could it be an allegory?

Artwork Comments

  • pinkyjain
  • JaneAParis
  • pinkyjain
  • Estelle O'Brien
  • JaneAParis
  • WanderingAuthor
  • JaneAParis
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