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A Person, A Place, A Thing

The female lies slumped on the floor in a clumsy imitation of the recovery position. Dressed in an orange and black tiger print onesie of worn fleece with a rip in the left heel, her face is obscured by thick twists of black hair generously traced with ribbons of grey whose dripping ends flutter against the tensed jaw and rounded lips curling slightly away from even, gritted teeth through which passes a low, strangled, keening sound: its muted timbre and erratic rhythms reminiscent of chanting. Rounded shoulders push out the right arm at an awkward angle, highlighting the only visible hand with its ashen skin where multiple swellings push bloated surface into shiny, smooth peaks; and pulse as though on the cusp of bursting.

The once honey-brown carpet frames her prone form: the fibres worn down in places and darkened in others where repeated use has left its own mark. A red spill spatters away from the window and further into the room; whilst the dark countenance of the television, with its backdrop of magnolia walls, appears to dominate the space. But look again and there are so many colours dancing across the surfaces: from the ribbons along which a number of cards have been pinned in place by large silver paper clips, to the collection of photos and paintings in varying sizes and styles that hang along the walls.

The merriment in paint continues in the sparkly, electric-blue frame of the manual wheelchair that stands in the top-left corner of the room – hemmed in by the starkly-white radiator and the dark wood shelving overflowing with CDs and pieces of paper that have been haphazardly folded and wedged in for later perusal. The seat cushion has been removed to allow the contraption to be folded and then shoved in tight up against one of the armrests. The large grey wheels, with treads so clearly defined in their moulding, lean drunkenly towards each other at their base and the burnished bronze tone of the handrims used to propel it, twinkle brightly in the sunlight and call out to be stroked.
 
 

This piece was written and submitted as part of WordPress.com’s Weekly Writing Challenge. The writing challenges are designed to “help you to push your writing boundaries, show off your blogging chops, and, hopefully, spark more post ideas”. The posts should be specifically written in response to the challenge set.

This week’s challenge was to “combine your sharp powers of observation and your vivid imagination in a bid to follow Fox’s advice and ‘collect people, places, and things’. With this challenge you’re going to start your collection by writing three paragraphs, one each about a person, place, and a thing”. You can see how other bloggers responded to the challenge, on Person, Place, Thing.
 

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AUTHOR: I am might war. I have a love of music, the written word, travel, Anime, polar bears, people and “sticking and colouring”.

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