Saturday, January 09, 2010

Entry #71

The Anchoring of Frigid Ships
by Aleathia Drehmer


Sharon sipped the day-old flaccid seltzer from the plastic cup shaped like a stalk of bamboo and sadly winced at her ineffable laziness as the bloated lime touched her dry lips with a regrettable tanginess. She was propped in her bed, swaddled below in several blankets and her aging pashmina around her shoulders. She noted the colors did not match each other and laughed at herself for caring about such things when she couldn’t even lift her body from the bed for fresh water.

It dawned on her that one should not be so cold at the end of summer, yet she harbored the chill of winter on every inch of her body. Icebergs moved slowly across her abdomen and sailors anchored their frigid ships to her lungs making it hard to breathe. Sharon didn’t even have the strength to find the telephone to complain about her condition, so she sat there watching night clutch at this summer day through the window. The sun was dipping over the horizon on the other side of her roof splintering the light towards heaven; it was a teasing of warmth she could almost wish for.

She thought it would be nice to close her eyes and wake up from this world of collapsing seasons, this global treachery that had her shivering in August. And as she slumped down onto her pillows, she watched the shadow of a hawk soaring— rippling its body between the branches of an oak, contemplating the possibility of hope.

25 comments:

Ayodele Morocco-Clarke said...

Currently home suffering with the flu, I appreciate this piece...immensely.

Bernita said...

Vivid imagery and a nice, wry voice.

pjd said...

Some interesting metaphors like the sailors anchoring frigid ships. A lot of aesthetic verbiage in this.

onipar... said...

Agree wholeheartedly with Bernita and Pjd. Great metaphors and imagery.

Craig said...

I liked the play on hot and cold and the metaphors were simply outstanding.

Sarah Laurenson said...

Great imagery. Leaves me cold and wanting to crank up the heat. Excellent job.

JaneyV said...

I'm lying in bed wearing flannel PJs and two pairs of socks looking at the snowstorm outside. It's cold here. But your description of the way Sharon was feeling makes it seem positively balmy.

Icebergs moved slowly across her abdomen and sailors anchored their frigid ships to her lungs making it hard to breathe.

This line in particular is outstanding.

Kartik said...

ditto on the iceberg comments!

Lena said...

Imagery is simply exemplary. Great writing.

Michelle H. said...

Love the metaphors in the second to the last paragraph. Have to go heat up now.

catvibe said...

Nicely written, and I ache for her. I'd like to blame it on her flu, this cold, but the global treachery line made me realize this was more along the lines of an unseasonal cooling. Given the plunge into freezing for half the world right now, it's appropriate. Nicely written.

Michael Solender said...

very gray and cool. almost wispy. a fine telling.

Kate said...

I feel like I'm looking at a photograph of this scene!

laughingwolf said...

-13C here overnight... so can relate to the cold

Kurt Hendricks said...

Truly great imagery.

...she sat there watching night clutch at this summer day through the window. - This was my favorite line.

Meghan said...

I hate being sick! I agree--great imagery.

Laurel said...

She thought it would be nice to close her eyes and wake up from this world of collapsing seasons

That is a jewel. Gorgeous. Lots of powerful images in this.

Four Dinners said...

Very vivid imagery!!!!

Very powerful indeed, but rather sad in so many ways.

Well written!

illyriataylor said...

fantastic analogies. Well done.

Chris Eldin said...

The line Laurel picked out is my favorite. Nice job!

truevoid said...

world of collapsing seasons is a beautiful phrase. could be interpreted in many ways. nice writeup.

Harper said...

this had overtones of death to me...she can't rise up to make a call, but then who would she call? Her pashmina is aging, it's a bitter cold throughout her body for which the hottest day in August gives no respite from...maybe she'll live through the night, the hawk offers her that possibility, maybe it is the flu and she'll get over it and maybe the time has come for her in which seasons collapse onto themselves. Whatever the meaning, it's beautifully descriptive and makes one think.

Terri said...

The way you have written this makes me want to read more, purely because of the beautiful writing. There is something... soothing about it. Lovely.

james r tomlinson said...

Too much, too fast. There's some heavy prose here. I'll have to read it again.

Aerin said...

Dear Entrants #1-105,

I have read your pieces so that I can fairly participate in the Readers' Choice vote. (I read all of them through last week, before I started commenting.) I will be coming back around to offer my keep/tweak comment, but I didn't want anyone to snark.

Cheers,
Aerin (#236)

BTW, it's perfectly fine if you still want to snark, but this way you can choose a more appropriate subject, like Sarah Palin's hair or the enigmatic career of Justin Timberlake.