Caterpillar

Title: Caterpillar

Author: The Hidden K

Disclaimer: No plagiarism intended. Do not plagiarize.

©The Hidden K at thehiddenk.wordpress.com,2020.


Caterpillar

©The Hidden K at thehiddenk.wordpress.com,2020.

Amelia sat in her room, in a July hot evening; the sun was   candescent. Sticky sweat was streaming down her spine, her perfume was strong, but the lavender fragrance started to lose its vitality, she feared that her dress would start to reek if ever she leaves the room.

By and by, she sank deeper into her chair, the fabric glued to her thighs, the blood started oozing slowly to her ankles, her feet started to get numb. She felt dizziness slowly creeping up to her head, her vision was good for a young lass. But her senses, in this July evening were nowhere near fine.

She thought of walking away from her house, when the sun goes down. She thought to herself, whatever cab that would pass by she will take it. She will go wherever the people go and live a bit. She did not understand what she meant by “live a bit” but that is literally what her distant cousin told her over the phone the previous night; “Amy, you should live a bit”. She was resolved to execute the advice.

©The Hidden K at thehiddenk.wordpress.com,2020.

It was the second of July, she read in the morning periodicals that the moon will reach its most circular shape tonight, maybe that is why the sun was resolved to burn her forehead today, competition, wholesome astral competition! the city was full with tourists at this time of the year, bodies buzzing with life are everywhere, yet she hang around her armchair like a caterpillar, yearning for some cold breeze to caress her thick skin, its oily substance was making her sweat harder, her lavender perfume lost its effect, she could smell her own sweat, it was disturbing to think of other people smelling her outside, it was a stifling sensations, and so she sank in deeper. As if her chair was a wormhole, sucking in her body, making the caterpillar sew his own thin threads around himself, as if the pharaoh is making his own shroud, eager for his mummification.

Her cousin’s voice still echoed through her, “live a bit!”. What did she mean by a bit? Amelia’s head was running miles, opening doors, hitting walls, thinking accentuated her dizziness, it led her nowhere.

Sleep crept into her eyelids lazily, she dozed off, her dress stinking with summer sweat. In such days, when she would spend her day off at home, in her room, in her arm chair, facing the window, the window ushered in the blinding light of the sun.

She would doze off and dream. Amelia’s dreams were not spectacular, she did not fall in a lad’s arms, nor see herself in a joyous party, she would dream of a train station each and every time, the station would be buzzing with voyageurs, million indistinct faces, rubbing each other, while talking loudly, boys running, lovers crying, and some thieves trying to seize some gentlemen’s suitcase.

©The Hidden K at thehiddenk.wordpress.com,2020.

On this exceptionally hot evening, she dreamt of the same train station, yet none was there, not a single soul, the lights were dim, the trains left their respective places, then she heard some feet shuffling towards the railways, she followed the sound, and spotted a lady in an evening dress, her dress clang to her back, its front buttons undone, the lady reeked with an old fragrance of lavender. Amelia walked towards her, in hope to see her face, while the lady approached the rail ways, a loud horn introduced the arrival of a fast train, the woman jumped, the train passed, all in a flash!

Amelia hid her eyes, with her thick palms, her nail polish showed her frustrated habit of nail biting, it was an awful look, both her cheap red nail polish and the screeching screams of the woman. The woman threw herself into death, but the train switched the rails.

She wanted to see her face, she uncovered her eyes, looked at the woman who lied in the ground crying, Amelia shrieked in horror.

©The Hidden K at thehiddenk.wordpress.com,2020.

The dreamer woke up to her own scream, it was loud enough to startle the whole neighborhood. She stared at her hands in horror, the woman, herself, the train, the lavender fragrance all intermingled in her mind. One single notion stood erect in her room: the jumper into death, wore her face, but it was wrinkled, older, grayer, emptier.

In an attempt to shake off the dream out of her mind, she stood up, her glued thighs made a shrilled noise while leaving the armchair, they took a red color due to its leather cover. She straightened her dress, took a bottle of pure lavender attar and sprayed it over her neck, the small container would always accompany her outside, in case she would want to spray it one more time.

Few steps by the sidewalk, and a cab stopped for Amelia, the driver took a single look at the overdressed lady with the strong lavender smell, he welcomed her with weary eyes, she muttered “south park”, he nodded in agreement and drove off. It was about five but the July sun was perseverant, its rays burned the wheels, one would mistake the sun’s heat for volcanic lava.

She looked at the rearing mirror, once inside the car, a lucky charm was dangling from it while driving, something was scribbled inside it, Amelia squinted her eyes, and looked at it intently. It said: “don’t live in the sidewalk of life!”.

There was it, it was too much sayings, Amelia thought. Yet somewhere in a corner, her mind nursed all those ideas she heard and read, here and there. “live a bit” “don’t live in the sidewalk of life!”, everyone was a philosopher, but Amelia. Her brain could not take the task of thinking, it was too tiresome, too scrupulous, too wide for such a narrow world as hers! She mused over life for a minute, a stream of sweat traveled down her back again. In a frustrated sigh, she took the attar, and applied some lavender on her temples, it relaxed her a bit, she leaned deeper into the seat.

The driver wondered, how come there is always something peculiar to every passenger’s life, something ungraspable, to the early birds a smell of coffee, a tired face, or a fidgety attitude, to others; there was a strong lavender fragrance.

Amelia at the back of the car, was resolved to live a bit, and quit the sidewalk though she doubted what they meant by the sidewalk! It was all frustrating and her nails were too short to be bitten!

©The Hidden K at thehiddenk.wordpress.com,2020.

The water caressed her strong shoulders, while thinking about caterpillars, she philosophized for a minute: “do caterpillars know that after their sleep they transform into breathtaking butterflies?” she damped her head into the water, her bathroom was small, but the bath tub was large enough to submerge her whole body with soapy water. Her dress lied in the wet ground, her nails finally breathed away the red nail polish, the attar container was empty!

She wore a placid smile when she sank deeper into water, she was satisfied with her cruise, “what an adventure», she mumbled. After two hours of hot water bathing, she stood in the marbled bathtub, looked for her white cotton towel, but found none! She walked her massive body towards her bed, and shivered from the cold breeze that hugged her back, she laid down and looked at the full moon, he was shining generously over her armchair, she turned her gaze towards her abode, and sighed in relief for the first time in her life, and said: “Now, that is what they meant by living a bit! Finally, the caterpillar became a butterfly!”

On the third day of July, Amelia slept soundly as a baby in her twin size bed, while the newspapers boy came around her house, and threw the newspaper at her front door, the title glared at her door mat; BABY KILLED IN SOUTH PARK, SUFFOCATED FACE, SCENE REEKING WITH LAVENDER ATTAR!

©The Hidden K at thehiddenk.wordpress.com,2020.

The End.


Author Disclaimer:

Hello, This is K.

If you made it till here I would love to thank you so much for reading my flash fiction. Originally this story was written in the confines of my mind, then paper long ago, it dates back to 2019, the thriteenth of June.

Today, 2020, the sixth of August. I upload it to my wordpress writing blog! @thehiddenk is such a liberating outlet for my pen and modest creativity. I would love to recieve your thoughts about it, that is if you see it possible. If not then thank you again for your readership.

Remember always to live fully, and not lurck in the sidewalk of life! get in the busy corridors of existence and LIVE! for Amelia’s sake for your own sake.

Light and Love to you!

yours, The Hidden K

©The Hidden K at thehiddenk.wordpress.com,2020.

8 commentaires sur “Caterpillar

  1. K, this was truly a lovely read. The flow was so good. It was like a symphony. Your words kept talking to me, and kept reading them. It’s funny how this started in 2019 and one year later you felt like sharing it. It’s like you start to believe more and more in yourself and that’s amazing, K. Because you should do that. This was amazing❤️ great job, and don’t stop writing! Your book will come one day❤️❤️

    Aimé par 1 personne

    1. Jojo, Thank you so much. I really feel so happy that you found it to be a lovely read… I am always happy when my readers can feel the symphony within my prose!

      Yes, indeed it’s such a journey for me to go to my old writings and bring them to this platform, it also takes a lot of pep talk if you ask me. I love sharing, but I always want to make sure that what I share is worth the time of my readers.
      thank you again for encouraging me.

      Hopefully, the book will come one day indeed ❤

      Have a blessed day!

      J'aime

      1. Of course, k. It was truly my pleasure to read your work.
        Ahah, it’s a struggle sometimes to « pep talk » yourself in doing something, but you always have to do it. Only than we can learn from experience!!
        Keep on sharing and stay motivated, that book will come ❤️

        To you too a blessed day😊😊

        Aimé par 1 personne

  2. Hi, Kami! I love this little story. It’s so short, but so engaging. The fear and anxiety coming off of Amelia was practically dripping off the page. I love the way you described things. I could picture myself next to Amelia without any problems.

    Aimé par 1 personne

    1. Hello, Dearest Miss M!
      I am so glad you love the story, Yeah it is short, I usually write this kind of short short stories, I do my best to focus on details . I am so happy you could feel the anxiety and fear within Amelia, that was my goal.
      Yeah, I focus alot of description too, I feel like it’s vital part of telling short stories, it helps the reader get more in touch with the character.

      Aimé par 1 personne

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