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Short stories: Waking up alone

by Hannah L Welch

Created on: August 04, 2011

Porcelain Angel

It is only when the moon hangs full in the night sky and all around me, most are lost within dreamland, that she emerges.

Only then does she show herself to me.

Only then can we be together.

Once the city around me has grown silent and all movement outside on the usually busy street has ceased, the closet door will creak (the oil can lies unused on my bedside table) and my breath will catch in my throat because I know what's coming next.



Pale fingers emerge first, long, thin digits that slide through the crack in the door and curl around the rough wood with all of the tenderness I would expect from my love, fingertips brushing over the hard grain as softly as if it were a living, breathing thing and not merely an obstacle in her path.

After this first, brief glance, I screw my eyes shut again her perfection – it's too much, it burns through my soul and leaves me feeling hollow at her mere presence, because I am not worthy to even look at her, and yet... 

She loves me.

God knows why.

I am broken and rough and I belong here, in the very place that she doesn't, because she's beautiful and bright and the mere thought of her brings light to my darkest moments, when the drugs and shock treatments have addled my brain and all I can do is lie, strapped to my mattress and drool while her soothing voice echoes in my ears.

'Shh... I'll be with you soon.'

And she always comes.

She's been visiting me for weeks now, sneaking in after visiting hour have been called just to visit me. She's said that its fine, that no one has seen her and that she won't be caught, but still, I worry for her.

She doesn't belong here, she would be suffocated by the walls that were always closing in. The cold would freeze her innocence and my love would crack and splinter.

A beautiful porcelain doll tossed into a garbage compacter.

Ruined.

She knows all of this, and yet she risks it, every night, for me, because she loves me and knew that I need this. Need her.

My delicate angel, my sanity in human form.

She visits in the night and lulls me to wonderful dreams, and during the day...

She is the thing of nightmares and I wish so desperately she would stop visiting because it just reminds me that...

She really is my angel.

Learn more about this author, Hannah L Welch.
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