A Million Miles from Home - Original Writing
The dismal black forest hid the house in its shadows. The house
appeared empty; its impression of wealth and elegance had faded. The
iron gates were drenched in dead roses, making the house unattractive.
The path had been swallowed by the trees until there was no path at
all. Everything seemed bleak, and death mourned upon the house.
She cried for months, not knowing how to occupy her self. As it grew
inside her, she felt she has less reason to stay in this realm. She
knew the mutation which was occurring inside her womb, but her mind
failed to accept it. She could not appreciate that everything had
malformed; her husband left her and the unborn child she had carried
was due to be present to the world.
A Tuesday morning of 1959, she awoke with discontent. She stood,
holding the posts of her bed, finding the weight of her body too much
for her legs. Her legs trembled and her hands grasped tighter. The
pain became unbearable, as she started to scream. She fell to the
floor, pulling the drapes off the bed, smashing glass into a million
and one pieces.
She crawled to the bathroom, gasping for air. The pain became subtle.
She knew that the last nine months of her body’s transformation
depended on this moment. Now she had to accept, she was in labour.
She walked to the kitchen for towels and hot water. The wooden floor
on her feet was unusually cold. There was a peculiar smell as she
entered the corridor, which seemed abnormally dark.
She got to the kitchen, the door was ajar. She pushed through
effortlessly and, curiously, there was a chair backed up against the
door. There was definitely something odd about the kitchens
atmosphere. She noticed the knives, which originally stood on the
side, were now cluttered in the sink.
Her body was feeling unstable. She was not in the mood for surprises.
The kitchen door slammed shut behind her, she turned in the direction
of the door and there stood the man she thought she once knew. The
same man she believed would never come back: The father of her child.
He had changed; he was more of man than what he was before he left.
His eyes and hair were darker than what she remembered, and his olive
skin was even more tanned; all the affects of long luxurious holidays.
His once handsome smile, that first attracted her to him, turned into
He started to approach her. The couple were in silence, their heavy
breathing emphasised by the stillness. The air around them became
weak, as they lost the power to speak. He took her arm vigorously. Her
echoing scream flooded his house. He held his hand around her throat.
She struggled as she gasped for air. She looked down . . .
Blood trickled down her leg into a puddle that was accumulating around
her feet. Her feet were blue and...