Inside a Female's Madness

Inside a Female's Madness

Author: Ottman Elbaida

206

Added 14.03.2019

She gathered at once all of her exhausted strength to straighten up her fit body. Her femininity was chained by the heaviness of clothes made for men. After she had thrown her sights at the dark horizon, the flames of a windy and rainy night suddenly were caught by her senses; it was one of the city's coldest nights in winter. She was hardly walking like a heavy bag while the light of the street's lamps was revealing the secrecy of a grey path to her 'nowhere'.

Before she settled down her body, she had set it free from his travels. First, she placed aside her dark sheets and clothes. Then, she began unpacking her furniture: a tiny pillow, a bottle of weird liquid, pages of a newspaper, and a pack of cigarettes. After she had designed the interior of her 'nowhere', she recalled her bright times with rhythmic moves that summed up authentic and genuine femininity.

As she was stepping towards the fading light of a lamp, she put her hand inside a coat and brought a broken mirror. When her face features danced with its reflection on the mirror, she unleashed her hair with loud and mad laughter that tore her 'nowhere' apart. That was the first reaction of her body to the initial state of a joyful and ambiguous madness, a desire to dance with the chimes of the rain.

Her body shaped feminine patterns; she was a dancing piece of art in which moments of ecstasy, joy, pain, surrender, rebel, and silence were portraits. She opened her arms widely to hope and rolled her body twice when the falling and dancing with drops of the rain made echoes of an end to infinite seasons. To come back to her 'nowhere', she sensed her body with her tips of fingers; meanwhile, she was lying on a grey wall, grabbing the bottle's bottom, and pouring out on newspapers. As soon as her whims were pursued, she took a page of the newspaper and lighted up a cigarette. She was smoked and over-driven by reading her share of fortune in pain and joy for the next night. She was carelessly drifting in moments and resembling them, giving up her soul to forgiveness that was inflamed by the madness of joy.

The sky stopped pouring down its blessings, and the storm kept whispering until it vanished; still, she kept gazing at the dark red spot.