Catharsis | viii.a.
Raquel is in a memory. It's a Sunday morning; she and her lover had just engaged in glorious morning sex, and were now cuddling in the nude. Her lover gently caresses her hair, the nape of her neck, her shoulder, her side, her hip, her thigh. Raquel's finger tips take a stroll down collar bone lane and she cannot take her eyes off of theirs. Their legs are intertwined and her love seems to breathe in her face. They kiss her forehead, then each eye, next her nose, and then her lips. In an instant Raquel steals their thoughts with a swift extinction of any gaps, and the flick of her tongue. They go off on another fruitful journey beneath the covers.
Raquel is in a memory. It's Sunday, at noon; she and her lover finally separate their skin and so they can go to fix her food. She wraps herself in the bedspread and walks to the doorway where she leans against the frame, watching the kitchen intently.
They bring back a plate of toast with blackberry jam and two mugs of coffee. She and
Catharsis | vii.Raquel is sleeping in the morgue. Her eyes lifeless and skin cold to the touch, she doesn't breathe. The blood is resting in her veins - cells no longer multiplying or dying, her hair no longer growing, her heart no longer pumping, lungs no longer functioning. But Raquel isn't bothered. Raquel is sleeping in the morgue. She is dreaming of days on a mountainside with a cup of coffee and a good novel; exploring a city of coral reefs; road tripping with her best friend from one side of a continent to the other. She's finally where she wants to be. Raquel is sleeping in the morgue. Raquel is dead.
Catharsis | vi.Raquel is an escape artist. She is held captive in a jail cell, but alas, she has discovered a method of self release. The bar furthest to the left is loose. Raquel discovered this in a sad attempt to squeeze out between it and the bar next to it - but it paid off, nonetheless! For a week straight she would wiggle the bar at night to loosen it more and more, so that on this lovely day she could wiggle it right out of it's place. With that bar gone, the gap was big enough for Raquel to slide right out, as quiet and unnoticed as a church mouse. Freedom was grasped in her deep breaths, and her crooked smile was full of well deserved pride.
Catharsis | v.Raquel is admiring her phosphenes. She is clenching her eyes shut and analyzing the lights and color to distract herself from the agony. Raquel is aching. She is leaking salty streams from beneath her eyelids, bruising her bottom lip with her upper teeth, and admiring her phosphenes. Raquel is dying.
Catharsis | iv.a.
Raquel is an actress heading to work. She walks into her dressing room and donned her makeup, her outfit for the first scene. She's always loved the theatre. Raquel goes on to stage and plays a happy young woman in a village far over yonder. She smiles and sings and leaps around the stage with joy; her clothes of precious cloths and her face gleaming with an abundance of what the audience can see as nothing but pure happiness. After her performance there is an applause, and after the show's end there is an applause, and after her work day's end there is a multitude of pats on the back and "good work out there today, kid."
Raquel is home after a long day on the stage. She whips off her façade that stops people from recognizing her in the streets and tosses it to the couch. She strolls around her house in the nude, sick of clothing making her what she is not. Raquel washes off the many faces of the day in the bathroom and resists another urge to break the mirror. She cries and
Catharsis | iii.Raquel is awakening. A sly fox ravaged her campsite the previous night. She awoke to spilled food (and eaten food) and ripped clothing and dirt covered supplies. Raquel grabbed her knife and tucked it in her belt. She donned her bow, slid a few arrows by the knife, and almost literally dove into the forest upon sight of the horrific scene. She found the fox quietly sipping from a stream, a variety of stains on it's fur from her food sources. Raquel pulled her bow from around her and armed it with an arrow; she pulled, aimed, and shot. The arrow went slicing through the air and in the blink of an eye that was not hers, the fox lay on the bed of the stream, lifeless.
Catharsis | ii.Raquel has entered the eleventh dimension, but not really. The tenth dimension came to an end and with it the end of all beings outside of herself. Raquel doesn't really know what she's managed to enter. Her lungs expand slowly and steadily, her heart contracting abnormally. She can hear waves of the ocean being pushed and pulled by the moon, hear the birds singing and the fish swimming and the sand washing away. But Raquel cannot see. She can smell the sour odor of death and taste it on the tip of her tongue, but she cannot see. She can feel blades of smooth grass running against the back of her arms and legs, feel the dirt staining the cloth around her body, feel what may be the earth pressing against her scalp, but she cannot see. Raquel doesn't know where she has washed up but she's assuming it's the eleventh dimension because the tenth ended and if she knows anything, anything at all about life and the world, it's that eleven comes after ten.
Eleven will always come after ten.