The Stitched Woman.1

5 1 3
                                    

She turned on the white and flickering lights of the main part of her dwelling with her shaking pale hand. It was exactly 7:30 AM, the same time she began to wake up every morning to do something productive, despite her mental and physical state.
Her robotic eye allowed her to see in the dark, but light from above was always helpful, especially when it was to complete some tasks.

The woman noticed how it's become tiring to walk, and how her neck ached more than usual. One look in the cracked mirror of her sowing room was what motivated her to cut her long black hair. She had kept it long for all these years, though not clean due to the lack of resources. It was becoming more of a bother, rather than a pleasant memory.
So the Russian woman reached for the pair of scissors and wiped the mirror of any blood remnants or dust to see herself clearly.

With every snip, tusks of hair would fall to her feet, and slowly but surely, her posture would begin to straighten. She knew she couldn't keep it as a short bob, since attempting to keep it clean would not be easy. So, she made the bold decision to completely cut it off, despite how it pained her to do so.

Those fallen tusks of hair would be stored away on her shelf against the wall where she stored everything. From books, to old photos, to old trinkets, and tools.
The trembling woman sat down in her chair, in front of her table, running her organic hand through her now fuzzy head, feeling the texture. 
Sleeping at night would certainly be different, but she could sleep through anything at this point.

An Artist's Mind Palace||Read Description!Where stories live. Discover now