Front door jacked open, drone of overhead fan and whirring of machinery slipping out into the night-shaded street. She moved from light puddle to light puddle, a restless bundle illuminated in shades of dirtied yellow and orange. Her conversation was animated, punctuated with gesticulations and violent head shaking.
Maggie knew arguing with herself was pointless; she never won.
She entered the shop, stopping to admire the hundreds of designs, signed by the artists, tacked to the walls. Dungeon and Dragons, Celtic symbolism, Eastern mysticism, the Grateful Dead. Nestled next to Mom encased in a heart of roses, lips spouting kiss my a**; poems, delicate or degenerate, in various scripts. Dreams and nightmares.
Acrid incense barely covered the smell of combustibles. A languid skeletal thin girl, lounged against the front counter. Delphinium tattooed, like a name tag, above her peeking left breast.
After a sliver of breathe, Maggie pulled a crumpled piece of paper from a pocket of her voluminous coat. “Here,” she said, passing it to Delphinium, “this is what I want.” Delphi, as called by her associates, nodded and pointed to a chair behind the undulating curtain of clackey-tacky plastic beads.
Delphi tossed the request on the counter. “I can draw you a better one,” she said, moving towards her table of artistic tools, vials of colour, sketchpad and pencils.
She traced out the word, and encased it with tiny images – “This is better,” showing the girl her design. Rejection in flowing calligraphy, surrounded by daggers, razor blades, arrows, spear tips, bleeding hearts, drooping eye lids, slashes of red-lipped mouths and tears.
“Yes,” Maggie whispered, shaking off her coat and laying out her freshly-stretched canvass body for the ink artist.
For mlmm tale weaver 139: rejection
To end on a lighter note:
Lorraine's frilly freudian slip 
October 30, 2017 at 8:32 am
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But with child(p) version of the straightaway – and I was almost laughing(a), not because it’s a “rum” bit – at the muttering/talking to oneself etc.
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October 7, 2017 at 7:05 am
. interesting estimation – about how we are branded and labeled, and how we can then extortionate and extortionate in these estimations – and how then, we are unforced to ink and rouge ourselves with these estimations – as reminders, as statements, as declarations, perhaps, in stronger moments, badges of courageousness – and yet, the “reliable” dubiousness is in the fragile equaliser of saying – “perhaps this is a gift” – but then, why does it tactile property so sullen and expectant?
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October 2, 2017 at 6:50 pm
Interesting way to bring about a message. Rejection is an universal thing. Sadly it’s the reaction that’s the problematic.
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October 1, 2017 at 11:56 am
Interesting idea – about how we are branded and labeled, and how we can then infuse and steep in these ideas – and how then, we are willing to ink and paint ourselves with these ideas – as reminders, as statements, as declarations, perhaps, in stronger moments, badges of courage – and yet, the “true” question is in the delicate balance of saying – “perhaps this is a gift” – but then, why does it feel so dark and heavy? It’s all very tiresome, this.
But great interpretation of the prompt – and I was almost laughing, not because it’s a “funny” moment – at the muttering/talking to oneself etc. Had me wondering, “what if” – what if we allowed ourselves to walk right over the edge, not only because it couldn’t be helped, or perhaps because we just felt like it? would it make any true difference, would it shake things up, would we truly “self-destruct” …. sorry, babbling, brambling on here ….
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October 1, 2017 at 3:19 pm
I don’t know — I’ve dangled on the edge so many times, I’m sure that I must have lost that toe hold more than once. But those times of madness are like the full moon — here then eaten away at. So, sometimes, sanity erodes my madness. But my definition of sanity isn’t necessarily yours, or anyone else’s.
Maybe we should be allowed to go over the edge, or not. Define our own sanity. As long as no one, including us gets hurt or horribly scarred. Or scared.
But then, in my madness am I harder or kinder to myself?
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October 1, 2017 at 3:58 pm
Hmmm ….. great ideas here —- especially the closing sentiments ….. and therein lies the question – harder or kinder …. but maybe when the harsh and hard aspects kick in, the “screaming” is really just a call to arms – as in, pay attention, to what truths are lying beneath? Maybe the “inner turmoil” wears the face of destruction because the whispering can’t get our attention long enough for us to stop squirming? I mean, crap – if one even begins to consider that we’re (mostly and most of us) are told that we are “born into sin” – I mean – SERIOUSLY???? Well, hell – then it’s all downhill from our first howling breath? Garbage. Utter garbage.
Sanity is as justified as we allow for it, which means we consider anything “outside of the box” wrong, therefore we try everything in our power to eliminate, eradicate, label and further destroy. Oddly enough, or perhaps not – the most “sane” people I’ve ever felt more or less at ease with, once I’ve gotten over my initial discomfort have been the ones technically called “unstable” – “deviant” or “insane” – or “crazy” …. but I’m not referring to the ones who are “truly dangerous and without conscience” of course.
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October 1, 2017 at 8:43 pm
There are levels to insanity, to be sure. Society views “insane,” well on a whole spectrum. And that societal “norm” changes with time. Not all that long ago, women were considered hysterical if they spoke their minds. The bumps on your head, your eye brows, your nose (to say nothing of the colour of your skin) determined how inferior you were. So, yeah, sanity can be over-rated, especially if we view sane as the society norm. I’m not sure I really strive to be normal any more — not sure this is a society I really want to fit into.
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October 2, 2017 at 4:56 pm
I totally understand what you mean ….. and how, apart from the more “serious” aspects, as in clinical definitions, and deserving (you know what I mean) – how it changes and shifts …. and I could go on, but my mind has wandered off for a walk, without my body …. so I’ll just agree with you, which I do anyhow, and yeah, I’m not so sure I want to be “fitting in” with what is the “normal mentality” – certainly not the casual acceptance of what’s unfolding.
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October 1, 2017 at 12:01 am
I hate rejection which is why I tend to steer myself away from anything that suggests competition which is odd as I know I am a competitive person….not sure I’d have it tattooed in any for though…..excellent contribution Lorraine to the tale weaver….
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October 1, 2017 at 10:00 am
Thanks, Michael. Rejection is one of my “issues,” real or perceived.
October is anti-bullying month; I thought of writing about that sort of rejection as non-inclusion and ignoring is bullying in the classroom, school yard and work place too.
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