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June 2018

WEP - June 2018 Challenge, Unraveling The Past by Pat Garcia

 

Unraveled yarn

Unraveling The Past

 

Janie B sat behind the steering wheel of her Aston Martin gazing down at the old dilapidated mill by the lake. Balls of yellow, red, and purple yarn lying in the passenger seat beside her. From a distance, the two houses looked as if they hadn’t changed. Memories flooded her senses. Her hands behind her back, the yellow yarn tied around her wrists, cutting off the circulation of blood. Every now, and then she’d done her best to wriggle her fingers to keep the blood flowing, and a weird yodel like a wolf howling would come out of his mouth. His eyes would light up, and he would slap her face.

He walked toward her with the red yarn mumbling it was the blood yarn to bind her ankles.  Tears filled her eyes. She wouldn't let him see her cry. As he tied her thick, dark brown ankles together, a spark of laughter flew out of her mouth. Instead of gasping at the pain, she wanted to laugh. The thick red yarn wedged into her skin, biting against the black hair on her legs. 

Who was this guy?  Why did he hate her? Why did he kidnap her?

He slapped her face again. She wiggled her fingers and wiggled her toes to keep her blood circulating.

The slaps to her face, the whip stinging her back, the pawing dirty fingers of her oppressor, pressing some of the purple yarn in her mouth, choked her as he wrapped the yarn around her neck.  Purple for a royal grave he’d said, but she didn’t feel royal; trapped into a concoction of a crazed man thirsting for revenge.

Who was he? Why did he hate her? Why did he kidnap her?

Each minute the purple yarn tightened around her neck. Each movement of her head brought no relief. Turning her head meant choking. The purple yarn threatened to give way, her saliva, the need to swallow was bringing it closer and closer to clog up her throat.  

Too weak to fight back, she welcomed the darkness that death offered. With her eyes closed, she waited.

A door flew opened, a loud crash, a touch of wind touched her nakedness, and the coldness of a damp cloth went across her face.  

Paolo found her. He stepped between her and the man, between her and death.  Paolo became her savior. 

 

The car door opened. His hand touched her shoulder bringing her back to reality. 

“I don’t think I can do this, Paolo.”

“Put the yarn in the bag, JB.”

“Paolo didn’t you hear what I said. I don’t think I can do this.”

“I heard you, JB. Put the yarn in the bag. It’s time.”

 

Janie B reached over and picked up the three balls of yellow, red, and purple yarn and packed them in her bag.  She sighed and shook her head trying to shake away the fear.

“Look at the lake, JB. See how peaceful it is?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“That’s the peace you seek.”

“But why did I have to come back here to find peace, Paolo?” 

“Because this is where you lost it,” Paolo said as he helped her out the car. 

 

                                                ***

 

Shalom aleichem,

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Pat Garcia