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the girl of smoke

The Girl of Smoke, Chapter I

I wrote my name over and over again in loopy cursive, hoping that with some iteration it would seem any less strange. Names were like that, words were like that. Say anything enough times and you realize how little it means, how little you feel.

The task seemed pointless, but necessary as all tasks seem. It was like the finishing touches to anything, they made all the difference, and none of it at the same time.

I wrote it again, this time harsh and jagged, so deep it nearly ripped the paper.

JULIE JULIE JULIE

It felt neurotic, manic.

JULIE JULIE

At some point it lost all meaning like those words did. Black split across the paper like a cloud of smoke. It made you choke, brought tears to your eyes, forcing you to gulp every breath. All that ink was like my kerosine, all that was left was to light the match.

I started to tear it up. Methodically at first, then harsher, hungrier, a million pieces in my hands falling like snow at my feet.

I did it all in silence, and I don't know why I did. It was comfort, it was routine. It was a way to let off steam without letting it all boil over. It was that one speck of anything you got when the days blend into each other.

I pushed my chair aside, kneeling down to pick up all the pieces. One by one, tedious. A reminder of no matter how far I ran, I would always end up in the same place.

I closed my eyes, took in a breath so big I had to hold it, and I sat there. If only for a moment, doing nothing. If only to let it go.

Then it was cold, and it was all I could feel.

I opened my eyes and when I looked above me there were aching black trees twisting like veins, snow falling in a dizzied frenzy.

When I exhaled again it came out in a puff of smoke, I giggled almost drunk on the idea. I almost expected the sky to shatter with that one breath.

I started to walk around, my socks sinking into the snowbanks. I didn't want to close my eyes, I couldn't close my eyes.

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