Scribbles # 51: Autumnal Demise

"November already." She was talking to herself as she kept walking. She looked around her and noticed the low hanging fog which seemed to swallow up the whole sky.  She pulled her coat up tighter around her neck as the wind gusted, lifting up the remains of the yellow leaves from the ground.

She did not have a vested interest in the rust colored mums growing at the fenceline. She was not the least bit impressed that hundreds of birds were all together in the barren maple tree while they prepared themselves for the southern flight into more pleasant days ahead.  And she was here despising fall.

Autumnal cellblock, with her as the unhappy prisoner, feeling as dead inside as the dead leaves all around.  She wanted to scream that summer lied again.  She had higher expectations, even in September... but they all fell through with fall and November just proved to her that it was not fair.  She wanted the luxury of hibernating too.  She would gladly curl up in a fetal position, pull the covers up tight around her, pull the shades, break the sundial, and not even look out at the dismal days facing her.

She was clinically, hopelessly, helplessly down and could not get up. Fall made it all so much worse as her mood plummeted, as a fallen star. She hit rock bottom staring out at the mocking, dreary, almost grotesque, dead laden trees. She saw the shadows getting so much darker and longer and the trees just stood there defensiveless to take their leave out of the curse of autumn.  Fall just burrowed depression deeper in the recesses of her mind.

Finally she made it to the top of the knoll.  The peony bush was black and its leaves were burned and brittle, nothing there had made it through the heavy freeze which took its toll upon the hydrangea, too.  She stopped there to catch her breath as she noticed each trip up there was getting a little worse every day.  It wasn't so much that she was wheezing from being so out of breath; but it had more to do with her inadequate measure of faith which was so much tinier than a grain of mustard seed.  She had even contemplated dying herself just as the leaves had done there, as they laid all around her feet making a dead carpet, deeply piled and easily crushed when she stepped upon them. 

Another season gone and she still had nothing to show for it.  Autumn hurt in all of the dryness, in all of the death, in all of the emptiness. She looked up and watched the birds pepper the sky with their bodies symbolically rubbing it in her face... they were finally leaving in the ugliest of times.  And she looked at the grave where her first love and husband was laid to rest and just got more agitated as she thought how much she hated him for leaving her behind to wait out all of the torturous seasons, living without him.  She then collapsed into the dead, brown, leaves... while they distorted the image of autumn by being immune to grief.

She stayed too long again.  As always she took more time than she had to give there as she pined away, passively wishing her own life away.  The night was settling in and the moon was just a sliver of a light there because the clouds were bullying it to make it all but disappear. She finally stood up and the wind hit her wet face where all of the tears were still very evident.  She then remembered that she had also screamed while she clung to the gravestone. 

"November already." She made a fist clenched so tight as she passed back by the rust colored mums. And the wind kept beating her as it passed over. 
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Comments

  1. funfreak

    You do paint a perfect setting…you get it all right…no details left out, like an artist with her brush. I love to read your stories!

    November 04, 2009
  2. pastormike

    truly a vivid wordpicture…

    November 05, 2009
  3. stevehayes13

    Very sad.

    November 05, 2009
  4. Wheresmycoffee

    Very poignant and bittersweet. Wonderful piece Victoria!

    November 05, 2009
  5. VictoriaWV

    I was thinking about what November looks like around here right now.. LOL! And then thought how some have more problems dealing with this season and all of the grief too. I am a nurse and there is a disease called SAD. Seasonal Affective Disorder… I just turned it up a knotch… and created her to have SAD in the ninth degree.. or tried to do that with her.

    Thanks so much for your comments. I appreciate them.

    November 05, 2009
  6. uncle_charlie

    I really enjoy what you write about and the way you do it.

    November 08, 2009
  7. VictoriaWV

    I am so glad you liked the Scribbles. I love reading your blog and all of what you bring here to the site.

    November 08, 2009
  8. SnoopsMama

    That was wonderfully written. Loved it

    November 10, 2009
  9. VictoriaWV

    Thanks so much! I love these exercises! They certainly expand my thoughts for sure!

    November 10, 2009
  10. Maldoror

    Another masterfully written piece, Victoria. The imagery of decay that is building on itself, seemingly on an irrevocable path, is handled beautifully as you tie it in with the approach of Winter, the time of year symbolic of death. Although there is a dark sense of loss, I also sensed an emotion of hope, knowing that Spring will inevitably arrive.

    November 23, 2009
  11. VictoriaWV

    Dear Friend, You already know that I cannot hide optimism no matter how I try. I always let in hope if possible… anytime, my creative juices begin to flow. It is spring somewhere always…

    November 23, 2009