Joining Amber Haines as we seek our written voices. Playing with fiction and the prompt “Necklace”
She wears pearls and platinum and is the sort of woman who folds her towel mid way through washing her face. She knows the thread count on each set of sheets and irons them before she makes the bed, miters the corners.
Her children go to bed on time and her husband knows where the table linens are kept, what her ring size is.
She likes to walk into the room and know what is expected, what you have planned. She has advice for you, she will email it to you unsolicited.
She is afraid most nights, that the pearls are going to suffocate her while she sleeps.
She wears silver. Big costume jewelery with fake stones and twisted metal. Her dresser is a suitcase, her home a plane. She rolls her eyes when you talk about invitations for children’s birthday parties, what sort of weed killer to use, how to clean the gutters.
She laughs at your religiosity whilst telling you how the points of light guided her home, how all the stars aligned to help her find herself.
She wouldn’t dare tell you that she is afraid she might float away into space, lose her whole spirit, if she took off that silver medallion, hung it up in an ensuite bathroom.
She hangs her amber stone next to the tear drop pearl. She doesn’t know any better than you do which is more ‘her’. But she will wear them both with authority and she will make you believe. She shapeshifts to fit your fantasy; make you fall in love with her. She has always been empty enough, that you could fill her with what you believed to be the best fit, she would always believe you were right.
She is passionate in her sway to the left and then to the right but plants her feet one after the other on the solid yellow lines.
She has stopped believing in heroes and villains, but still…if you will rescue her she will clasp that necklace on tight, whisper sweetly what she thinks you want to hear.