Release

one act sets the course of release from the emotions kept bottled inside.

She raised the cigarette to her parted chapped lips, smelling the familiar tar that lay beneath the paper. Striking the match against the dresser, she lifted the flame to its end where she paused, hand held aloft, the match burning lower down the wood. She contemplated whether this was really what she wanted. Whether this was the release she was looking for. It begged her to set it on fire. It begged her to release the smoke that was trapped inside, waiting to be liberated, ready to intoxicate her. It begged her to take all her sorrow out on its refreshing toxins. It spoke in encouraging, manipulative words that circled her with enticing notions of relief. But as she stood there and looked at the boxes that sat before her, their flaps up and waiting to be taped down, she realized she didn't want this but instead she wished to scream, to express her anger and grief in a fit of rage. She blew out the lingering flame and threw it on the ground.

Snatching the picture from the bedside table, she looked in on the people who a few weeks before had no idea what was to come. She saw their happy faces, their eyes that sparkled with their fresh excitement for the life they were about to embark on, their smiles that stretched from ear to ear, their rosy cheeks flush with life and with the cold air that nipped at their bare skin. Her eyes began to burn and the tears welled up at their corners. The bitter water spilled over the edge of her lids, falling softly down in silence across the planes of her face and dropping down in a splat on the happy couple. Her face grew red and her dormant anger surfaced. She looked at him and her feelings of abandonment leaked over the edge of her control.

She threw the frame across the room and it hit the wall and fell in a tumble of broken glass to the ground. She took the clothes on her dresser, folded and ready to be stored away, and threw them at her closet doors. They fell in scattered heaps of memories that lingered in punishment to her. She slid her arm across the wooden dresser and in one quick movement the scatted pictures, random memos, perfume and cologne bottles, and various memorabilia were shoved to the floor in a haste to purge herself of the break in her heart. She ripped the closet door of its hinges and let it fall swiftly down on the white carpet. She wiped everything clear off the desk, scattering his papers and gnawed pencils to the floor. She ripped the sheets from their bed, toppled the mattress, threw their DVD's in all directions, ripped the phone from its jack, threw the CD player at the window, and pushed the TV to the ground.

She came to the boxes still sitting innocently open before her closet. She picked them up and threw them into the hallway, before slamming the door shut. She went for her closet, ripping clothes off their hangers and throwing them to the floor, grabbing shoes from their shelves and chucking them at her walls, their heels wedged in the sunshine yellow.

Exhausted she fell to the floor and let her head fall in her hands. She didn't try to hold them back this time; she just let it all loose and literally cried her heart out, the vociferous sobs ripping from the inside, reaching with clawed hands for the sweet air. She lay out on the floor, CD's poking her back, heaps of clothes creating lumps of discomfort, glass scattered in sheets across the carpet, she lay in the heart of it all and welcomed the waves of woe.

Author's Note

comments, reviews, criticism, advice, grammar help, and all that really appreciated! and welcomed!

Reviews

[L.M. Spurrell]

Ok, I have a few points to raise with your work here... While the imagery of the story is excellent, I feel you are being perhaps a little over-descriptive in some ways.... 1st and foremost, I think you begin your sentences with 'She' a little too often. Try to find other ways to describe what she's doing without beginning with "She".... it gives a 'play-by-play' type of feeling which many readers will tire of quickly.... Also, your paragraphs may be a little too long (i.e. the 3rd one, which also has a typo on the 5th line... Should be 'scattered'.) There are also several commas missing throughout. The best tip I can give you for this type of writing is to ease-up on the moment-to-moment actions and try more symbolism. On the brighter side, the passion of your writing is clear and the overall account of emotional breakdown is well conveyed. I hope this helps, and doesn't tick you off! lol

[Tannen Dell]

Indigo Rising Magazine seeks original and innovative material. This is a platform for writers to find a place to send their best and brightest work. We are open to a wide array
of arts and literature for readers to enjoy.

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Tannen Dell.
Editor-in-Chief

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Michael Whitaker
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[hhoosh]

I liked this piece quite a bit, and for two reasons;
1) The depth of action and psyche you used on the action of smoking was extremely intact and precise. I didn't start smoking until last February, though I now smoke well over 50 a day and understood the feeling when sometimes those 5 minutes of breathing in and out just aren't enough, or aren't what you're truly looking for. Or what you're holding in.

2) I love the way you didn't fill the world here. It is very simple, a girl and her room, her emotions and things. Not only did it keep the emphasis on what was occuring (A breakdown, I presume) but it allowed for me to really think of everything. I pictured a troublesome girl, now stuck in foster care or perhaps a halfway house, trying to grow apathy and even hate for what she once had (A suitable family, in my mind) and yet she truly misses it, truly feels she took advantage of it. It just made everything feel real, like the story, though it doesn't belong to me, happened right before me.

Have one critique;
The destruction felt a bit much at times, almost too descriptive with action when what you set us up for was this girl's mentality. I wanted more on the inside, not outside.

Fantastic tale. I like the briefness of it and I can't wait to see what you do with longer projects!

[Adela Muresan]

You can feel the desperation in this piece.
A difficult sequence, is being illustrated in great realism here.
The beginning, sounded very intense, with her trying to burn herself, it makes the reader ache to find out what happens next.

Great great write.

A.M.

[MandarinOranges]

Excellent story. You write with a gift of words. I think you've nailed the hurt of heartache right on it's squalid little head! And yet, you leave the reader to wonder why exactly is "she" feeling it. Was it death or deceit that tore this poor woman apart?

The only thing that i noticed was a few spelling errors. Other than that...EXCELLENT WORK!

[George Love]

Remember those of us in more advanced years and give us some larger type. I like the work. It is very clean, clear and full of emotion.

[LRoneous]

i so enjoy the waves of emotion that permeate this piece. i only have one complaint... the text is too small. maybe break the piece up into paragraphs or simply use a bigger font. small words jumbled together make my eyes hurt. other than that, i thoroughly enjoyed this. nice writing.

[An owl on the moon]

Every detail is precise and vivid, full of the emotions of rage and loss. My ONLY suggestion is selfish...I get lost in letters. You might just break it into separate passages or paragraphs for the reader. Again, only a selfish request. Your writing is exquisite! Each time you write magnifies your excellence...