Skip to main content

A moment of truth

Josette faced off the wolf with a sad, cold stare. She was divided. Her mind was clear and resigned, but her heart pumped furiously at the certainty of meeting her death.

It lingered in the gloom like scarcely more than a shadow and slowly melted away without a sound. After a moment Josette thought she heard the patter of claws on stairs.

She stared unmoving for a long moment. Her fear and excitement had been replaced with a heavier despair than previously, and she knew she could not continue for much longer in this void.

Tomorrow, she decided, she would go to the only other human she knew yet existed, in all the world she had ever known.

Josette could not really sleep. She was aware of the passing of time as she tossed and listened to the silence of the streets below, where once cars had sped all hours of the day and night. She felt the emptiness of her tall apartment building like an ache in her chest. She was so vulnerable, and yet so careless of herself.

Once, she murmured, "Why didn't you just end all of this for me?" She remembered nothing after that. She must have fallen asleep.

Popular posts from this blog

The secret to a happy home

I finished Marion Harland's guide tonight and I wonder ceaselessly at two things. 1. She is so down on America! Even more than I am. She complains of things in which I am so well-steeped I could not see them for what they were. In particular, American style and cookery. It is true that our food, which we count as so much more generous in portion than the overseas counterpart, is as coarse and indecorous as it is plentiful, but as an American woman I cast up my hands and declare I would rather spend my time on something else. She makes an interesting point about American women's fashions. In France women wear what looks good on them, and in America women wears what comes off the manufacturing line in the latest style. It is very conformist, and I have to admit I feel it in myself, for I would be embarrassed to wear something that is "out" even if it flattered me better. 2. Harland's other point I feel clearly from last night's experiences. I looked in my journ...

Helen Keller

Reading this Women of Influence book is causing me to remember another of my great childhood loves -- "The Miracle Worker," the story of Anne Sullivan and Helen Keller. It was Anne Sullivan I really loved, and still love -- it always made me heartsick to think of her sacrifice, devoting every waking minute to another human being, with almost no life left to herself, until she died in old age, and Helen Keller required another translator. But God -- she must have known it -- that's the best way to live -- it is to have every moment of your life swallowed in supreme goodness and satisfaction. No wonder I loved her, and no longer do I feel sorry for her -- I envy her. I thought of her today perhaps because when I was around eight or nine I grew aware that she and I shared the same initials "AS." Today is the first day that I am Amanda Monteleone at work, and I have written my initials "AM" dozens of times already. It's strange, but the satisfaction of...

Sprouts

Sprouts Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde . I am getting sprouts. Hopefully they are carnations. It is such a beautiful spring day. It's good I'm taking the chance to come outside: I have craved a moment to reflect on something beautiful.