Do you ever look back on the week and think, what the fuck? I am doing that right now. Actually, I have been doing it since Monday. By now, everyone knows the story and all its gory details, except for my group of followers. (I like sounding like I’m the leader of a cult) – Anywho, I had one of those weeks where you end a night by falling down the stairs, and instead of just falling, you make sure there is glass involved because what is a stair fall without glass? I mean really? If you are going to bounce your ass on steps, wooden ones, I might add, make sure you bounce off each one really hard and that pieces of glass embed itself into your ass and legs while you are falling. That’s really the best way to fall down fifteen steps. So while I have been contemplating the “why did this happen to me” aspect of my life, I have been thinking of a story. It isn’t the best story, but it is something I came up with less than an hour ago, and I woke up a little before that – on a Saturday, so there.
I give you the dramatic, partially made-up version of what happened on Monday. As you know, I rarely ever finish a story and always leave with some cliff-hanger and a million question, and this story isn’t any different.
She was tired from the day. The hours pulled at her, begging for her to stay just another minute. The exhaustion was nearly unbearable as the clock ticked closer to 7:30; a half hour past an already 12 hour shift. She bid farewell to her master to turn herself in for the night. Gathering her things; a few dishes, and her writing materials, she made her way toward the stairs. Thinking of her warm bed and her longing for sleep, her eyes tried to focus on the steps before her. Suddenly, the air seemed thin and a cold rush surrounded her. Trying to ignore the recent shift, she took her first step and the gush of air seemed to encase her. She lost her balance. The glass broke free from her grip and shattered all around her. She tumbled down each wooden step, landing harder with each bounce. Her body flowed with adrenaline. After landing at the bottom of the stair case, she remained frozen. The cold air lifted, followed by the familiar warmth of the home. The glass shifted round her. It seemed to threaten her if she moved. Hearing the commotion, her master called for her. She looked around, processing each step and the sounds of breaking glass. She looked down and noticed the blood pooling. She took a deep breath and cried. They were not tears of pain, but tears of anger and fear.
“What happened?” asked her master.
She glanced around her once more and tried desperately to gain her composure, knowing what she was about to say would sound ludicrous.
“I was pushed.”
Her master now stood over her. By the maids surprise, the master’s face was not of shock or disbelief. He simply looked around, looked at the blood, and carefully picked the maid off the floor. “Let’s get you to the doctor.”
Happy Saturday, folks!