Fort Collins, Colorado
Congratulations, Allie!
Allie’s Bio:
Allie Comeau is a freelance writer living in Fort Collins, CO with her wonderful husband and two extremely energetic dogs. Allie studied Creative Writing at the University of Arizona and feels truly blessed to be able to make a living doing what she loves. Allie writes an active lifestyle blog for Sierra Trading Post http://blog.sierratradingpost.com/ and has been published in print magazines and online. She enjoys writing of all kinds – both fiction and nonfiction. Right now, she’s working on several projects and hopes to finish her first novel very soon. You can email Allie at alliecomeau@gmail.com
Staring at Soles
Laura sat trembling on the edge of a shabby quilt-covered bed. All around her, the cabin walls creaked against the weight of the gently howling wind.
Milky moonlight forced its way through the frosted windowpane and shone on a dark red patch of the quilt, causing Laura to brush it softly with her fingertips. Logs from the fireplace in the corner crackled and sighed as the orange glow warmed her cheeks and further flushed her mind. She had chosen this place because it seemed so romantic. At least she'd gotten that right.
She looked around the room and began to cry. Through tear-blurred eyes, she glanced spitefully toward the bathroom door. Two shoes, attached to two legs, stuck out from the tiled room. The way he'd fallen had left her staring at the bottom of his soles. Even in his stupor, he was trying to walk all over her. What a selfish fool, she thought. Her mind raced. Her sadness turned to anger. She felt an intensely strong urge to break something.
A sudden salty taste alerted her to the fact that her mouth was bleeding. Laura's eyes followed a drop of blood as it fell from her lip onto the aged fuzz of the handmade quilt. She wondered if the woman who made the quilt had been loved. Had she wrapped up in this very same quilt with her husband? Had he made her feel safe? Laura wiped angrily at her mouth with the cuff of her fine silk blouse, ruining it with crimson.
From across the tiny room, the empty bottle taunted her. Once again it had won. Didn't it always win? She was no match for the power of that liquid temptress. But still, she tried. Always, she tried. And always she ended up staring at soles, biting her lip until it was bleeding, crying herself to sleep.
This time was supposed to be different. "It will be different this time, honey, I promise," had been his words. Looking from the wilted figure on the floor to the sneering bottle on the table, she realized it would never be different. Not this time, not next time. Not ever.
She blotted her puffy lip once more with the silk cuff, knowing she would never wear the blouse again. She took a deep, drawing breath before she slid her ring off and walked over to the table. Without pause, she dropped the ring into the empty bottle. Clang! The diamond hit the green glass and bounced a few times against the sides before settling at the bottom.
Laura picked up her suitcase, straightened her wool skirt, and opened the door. The fresh air rushed into the room and surrounded her. She felt as if she was thinking clearly for the first time in ten years. There was no going back now. It was over.
She thrust one foot, and then the other, out into the dark night.
"Happy Anniversary," she said. And then she was gone.
***