She Came Out of Her Shell

[Christine Calhoun]

This is how it had always been: blood gushing under her skin. They called her nervous, gave her blood pressure meds, and kept her out of gym class and away from boys and horror films and speech class because she was a time bomb, her over-impassioned heart ticking its way toward an early death. They told her to paint pictures so she squirreled away the supplies and decorated the underside of her bed, always in the middle of the night. They took her out of school and kept her inside but the under-surface gushing, beating, bashing of herself against her skin continued. When the sun shone she reddened and wept joyfully and whenever a baby was born or an old man died she felt herself swelling inside her tiny, hinge-less case. One day she accidentally pricked her finger and the idea grew, pressing against her skull; she would slit herself down the middle and finally release all that pressure once and for all. 

[Christine Calhoun]

I am now imagining all this happening to grasshoppers wearing 1950's style clothing which I like. Thank you Adrian. As always thanks for the positive feedback Joey.

[Angela]

Much in tune with the nature of artistic passion.  Faved

[Joey Delgado]

Oh so angsty, oh so beautifully written. Great work, Christine. :)

[Adrian George Nicolae]

I'm not sure if you're talking about a woman or a female insect, regardless, I like your style.