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From my book “The Silo”

March 14, 2013

Chapter 1

She watched the moonlight shimmer across the water.  The dark rings coming from her thighs rippled away from her.  Droplets of blood fell from her fingertips disturbing the pond’s movements.  Nature’s song was broken as she washed her sins from her arms and thighs.  She was in a trance; every movement was of instinct, automatic.  She backed away from the bloodied waters, polluted with her own sins.  She glanced down for one last look at her offense in the murky water.  The sight jolted her, snapping her out of the dissociated state.  She fell back and her body hit the ice-cold water.  The reality of it waved panic through her veins.

The muddy bank rescued her from the horror she was leaving behind.  The cat tails she gripped were the lifeline to her salvation.  The farther away she could get from this the better.  Sprinting away, leaving it behind, sliding all over the dew covered ground.  The wind cut through her as she ran, she was freezing, soaking wet and falling every few feet the harder she tried to get away.  Her sight was blurred from the tears that stained her face.

Exhausted and breathless she fell again, only this time the wet grass was relentless in allowing her to reg

Myrrha in Hell (Gustave Doré, illustration for...

Myrrha in Hell (Gustave Doré, illustration for Dante’s Divine Comedy) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

ain balance.  Crawling and grasping at the blades of grass, she tried desperately to recover.  She succumbed to the Earth that refused to let her escape.

“God, forgive me,” she raised her head to the heavens and repeated her request, whispering, “God, oh please forgive me.”

She could not stop crying, she could not get up, so she just buried her face in the ground, repeating her cries for forgiveness.  Finally, her body began to calm and everything started to fade.  Her crying started to subside to quiet breathes, she stared off to the field on her left.  She felt her body giving into the exhaustion and loss of blood.  The night began to fade into sunlight.  She knew it was not real, she was watching a girl run in the fields, and the wind whipping the tall wheat grasses around.  As she watched the little girl, playing the corners of her mouth began to curl slightly up.  Her whole body relaxed as she remembered the more innocent time in her life.  Watching the seven-year-old version of herself, like a movie playing right in front of her.

  1. Penny Hartman permalink

    That’s awesome Amy, it’s not easy for somebody to face their wrongs and admit them openly to the public. I am very proud of you. I would really like to see this go far for you. And a copy of your book would be great if you could keep me updated I would appreciate it.


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