Prologue

He took all her words in the morning. after her before. while she was still sleeping. He plucked them from her soul, and with them, their roots.

Chapter One

Her language, once fluent, was now broken shards of glass that made her mouth bleed.  Her mind, once a deep mine filled with jewels, was a hollowed claustrophobic cavern where her once hallowed soul had now gone to die. Her heart, once lush and colorful, was now a barren wasteland.  Over which he spread salt, in her wounds, so that no words could ever grow again.

 Chapter Two

For a while, on that morning, she could still hear creation’s ending echoing inside. While the eyelids of that morning were still closed, she could see the distant sparkle of leftover light in the walls of her mine.  With the last inward breath of that morning, she could still smell the lingering fragrance of the ancient flowered landscape.  But that day was over before it’s mourning began. 

Chapter Three

She weeps.  With Silence. Her mornings of mournings, are now filled. With Loss.  She grieves. In Dust. Digs. For a seed of a word until her fingers bleed on the white page that’s still white. 

Chapter Four

She misses the ache of her heart when no one reads her words. Longs for the lament of her soul when no one thinks the stories that her words form are worthy of exploring.  Before the mornings of This mourning, she had always thought her words were pieces of art, with Hope, just undiscovered. Her stories  - creative assemblies of treasures, with Faith, yet to be collected.  So when her words were neglected, she had cultivated them and they had cultivated her. Soaking in her. Words.  Swimming in her. Stories. She was refreshed with the companionship of her words and her words were refreshed with companionship of her.

Chapter Five

She has no more seas to soak in.  her words.  No more waters to swim in.  her stories. She is never refreshed. Neither are her words.

Chapter Six

He had already taken so much from her.  Love. Time.  Ambition. Strength. Perseverance. Then, Hope. Finally, often, still, Faith. When will enough be enough?

Chapter Seven

She wondered. Why did he take her words That morning? What was he doing with her stories This morning?  

The Final Chapter

He’s writing her

“The End”

Epilogue

She still wants for her words. She. still. longs to call them and tell them to come home. But. Without her words… 

©2020 Jeanne Whitman all rights reserved…