Abigail's Song - #Friday Flash 5
Abigail's Song Portrait of an unreachable girl Abigail looked out at the meticulous lawn with topiary animals trimmed by the man in room 117. In the distance, mountains stood guard with broad purple shoulders crowding the horizon. Like an origami landscape, her world was fragile. Footsteps of orders and questions echoed down the hall with the crescendo and accelerando of pointy toes. A knock and click, then a bird beak poked itself through the crack in the door, “Hello, Miss Abigail. It’s time for your session.” Abigail kept her back to the bony flapping jaws of the head nurse and stared at the courtyard fountain, stained turquoise, as if food-coloring had been put in the water to make it look more beautiful than clear. Transparency was less interesting, saturation more desirable. Reality was never held in high regard at the asylum. “Put on your slippers; the tile is cold this morning. I’ll not have you catching pneumonia.” Abigail slid her slender feet into the blu...