47
Woman without skin
The woman woke up early in the morning of the first day of Winter. This winter, by all indications, promised to be long and cold. A woman woke up from a wild, inhuman pain. The pain was screaming in every cell of her body. She even clasped with this pain, and when she opened her eyes, she understood everything. The woman lost her skin.
When and where she lost her was no longer important. One thing was important. How to move forward without skin. And is that possible in the beginning? Live without skin. The blanket, a sticky, unreliable shield of sensations, was treacherously stuck to her naked bloody meat.
The woman screamed in horror. Trembling hands began to tear the blanket from her naked flesh. She was pulling a crumpled blanket from herself. I broke my nails and pulled them again.
She took it all away from herself. Black thick blood remained wet patches on the torn blanket. The pain didn't go away. The pain only got worse. It was already impossible to survive. And the woman knew she wouldn't survive it. So suddenly happened and happened.
Of the last strength, she forced herself to stand up. She was naked in her defenselessness before all this, jumped out into the street, She now absolutely did not care that passers-by, surprising with their fingers, brazenly staring at her.
The woman went looking for all those men who were once so long ago and more recently in her life. She knew exactly where to look for her missing skin. The first man did not open his door for a long time.
And she called and rang the indifferent, cold and mute door. The man finally opened the heavy door. Or rather, just opened it and stuck his head out. Hey, she said. Give me my skin! Give back everything that doesn't belong to you. But the man could not or did not want to give her anything.
I already made a great wallet out of a piece of your skin. He answered confusedly, trying not to look into her eyes. I'm sorry, I can't give it to you. I keep my money there. The man sharply slammed the door in front of the woman and left her standing, naked and bleeding, on an empty cold staircase.
The woman went looking for another man. Someone she used to be crazy good with. Someone she once loved very much. It was a long time ago. A long time ago, So long ago that everything seemed blurry and unreal. This man opened it to her right away. It was like always waiting for her to come. Give me my skin, the woman wearily asked him and stretched out her hands to meet him.
I can't, said the one who betrayed her. I made a floor mat out of your skin. I wipe my feet on it every time I enter my apartment. The woman lowered her eyes and saw a piece of her inanimate skin rubbed to holes. The woman ran on. She knocked, broke, wept and moaned at the empty and now closed doors of her past.
But nowhere did anyone open it and give it anything!Everyone needed some ragged skin for something. But all the men did not use them for their intended purpose. The woman went or rather wandered to her home. Passersby continued to point their fingers at her. She had chills. And even more so, she had scars and scars. They lived their separate lives in their hearts.
I think it's gone. A torn ugly scar formed in its place. But it's just an appearance. The wound hurts even more. And the pain breaks through the hardened and coarse skin of the scars and is given directly to the heart. The woman only knew one thing now. She must, she must, survive this winter. And in the spring, maybe she will meet the man who will help her survive, help her grow new skin.
They say a woman is like a peach. She has all the feelings out there. Flesh. A man is like a walnut. He has all the feelings inside. And sometimes a man injures and scratches with his hard shell such a delicate flesh of the female mental flesh.
Read more about those and not those people
The night before dawn
The woman woke up early in the morning on the first day of Winter, by all indications promising to be long and cold. She woke up from a wild, inhuman pain. The pain screamed and sobbed in every shaking cell of her body. The woman even clasped with this pain, and when she opened her eyes, she shrillly understood. The woman lost her skin.
How many such women live among us. Naked with their soul. No skin. They are helpless and helpless. We see them right away. But they don't see us anymore. They don't see anyone now... published
© David Tumarinson
P.S. And remember, just changing our consumption – together we change the world!
Join us on Facebook, VKontakte, Odnoklassniki
Source: www.proza.ru/2012/08/29/526
When and where she lost her was no longer important. One thing was important. How to move forward without skin. And is that possible in the beginning? Live without skin. The blanket, a sticky, unreliable shield of sensations, was treacherously stuck to her naked bloody meat.
The woman screamed in horror. Trembling hands began to tear the blanket from her naked flesh. She was pulling a crumpled blanket from herself. I broke my nails and pulled them again.
She took it all away from herself. Black thick blood remained wet patches on the torn blanket. The pain didn't go away. The pain only got worse. It was already impossible to survive. And the woman knew she wouldn't survive it. So suddenly happened and happened.
Of the last strength, she forced herself to stand up. She was naked in her defenselessness before all this, jumped out into the street, She now absolutely did not care that passers-by, surprising with their fingers, brazenly staring at her.
The woman went looking for all those men who were once so long ago and more recently in her life. She knew exactly where to look for her missing skin. The first man did not open his door for a long time.
And she called and rang the indifferent, cold and mute door. The man finally opened the heavy door. Or rather, just opened it and stuck his head out. Hey, she said. Give me my skin! Give back everything that doesn't belong to you. But the man could not or did not want to give her anything.
I already made a great wallet out of a piece of your skin. He answered confusedly, trying not to look into her eyes. I'm sorry, I can't give it to you. I keep my money there. The man sharply slammed the door in front of the woman and left her standing, naked and bleeding, on an empty cold staircase.
The woman went looking for another man. Someone she used to be crazy good with. Someone she once loved very much. It was a long time ago. A long time ago, So long ago that everything seemed blurry and unreal. This man opened it to her right away. It was like always waiting for her to come. Give me my skin, the woman wearily asked him and stretched out her hands to meet him.
I can't, said the one who betrayed her. I made a floor mat out of your skin. I wipe my feet on it every time I enter my apartment. The woman lowered her eyes and saw a piece of her inanimate skin rubbed to holes. The woman ran on. She knocked, broke, wept and moaned at the empty and now closed doors of her past.
But nowhere did anyone open it and give it anything!Everyone needed some ragged skin for something. But all the men did not use them for their intended purpose. The woman went or rather wandered to her home. Passersby continued to point their fingers at her. She had chills. And even more so, she had scars and scars. They lived their separate lives in their hearts.
I think it's gone. A torn ugly scar formed in its place. But it's just an appearance. The wound hurts even more. And the pain breaks through the hardened and coarse skin of the scars and is given directly to the heart. The woman only knew one thing now. She must, she must, survive this winter. And in the spring, maybe she will meet the man who will help her survive, help her grow new skin.
They say a woman is like a peach. She has all the feelings out there. Flesh. A man is like a walnut. He has all the feelings inside. And sometimes a man injures and scratches with his hard shell such a delicate flesh of the female mental flesh.
Read more about those and not those people
The night before dawn
The woman woke up early in the morning on the first day of Winter, by all indications promising to be long and cold. She woke up from a wild, inhuman pain. The pain screamed and sobbed in every shaking cell of her body. The woman even clasped with this pain, and when she opened her eyes, she shrillly understood. The woman lost her skin.
How many such women live among us. Naked with their soul. No skin. They are helpless and helpless. We see them right away. But they don't see us anymore. They don't see anyone now... published
© David Tumarinson
P.S. And remember, just changing our consumption – together we change the world!
Join us on Facebook, VKontakte, Odnoklassniki
Source: www.proza.ru/2012/08/29/526