Her Caribbean Sakura scene


The words just sat there, in the silence that followed. Thick and heavy they sat on the grass with the fallen flowers. They didn’t echo , they just fell and when they did something inside her broke, and her chest cavity was filling with some heavy liquid. The weight of it crushing her lungs making it hard to breath, weighing down her diaphragm, so that it felt like even her trachea was being drawn down into the sucking hole.

She took a chance to glance at him in her peripheral vision, he still loomed over her. Chest heaving still from screaming his pronouncement in her ear. The spittle was still fresh on her cheek, cold as the wind blew over her rage warmed face. He had confirmed all her suspicions in one screamed sentence, he had ripped away her veneer. He had crushed and withered the last shreds of hope and the benefit of the doubt that she has struggled against all evidence to afford him. He had done so viciously and loudly, maliciously with brutal intent. He had meant to hurt her, for being hurt by him.

The ground was now a blur of red and green blotches as tears filled her eyes and she struggled to see through them. She fought back her sobs as another red flower floated lazily to the grassy carpet. All the while her mind whispering to her.

It’s all your fault. You can’t blame him. It’s all your fault.” the voices whispered, over and over, and they were right. She had known he wasn’t the type of man you took on a long term trip. He was a trip. A one night stand kind of guy, a 6 month fling if you were lucky. But here she was 3 years later, crying under the flamboyant tree as he confirmed all the fears she had tried to suppress for what felt like an eternity. And the heavy metal in her chest turned red with her rage. It began to swirl and stir, something ugly and hot, needing to get out of her, trying to claw it’s way out of her chest.

She raised her head to the heavens and released a scream with her tears. Hot wet hatred ran down her face, as this terrible sound tried to drain itself from her chest, via her lungs and voice box. She didn’t know how long she held the note, how long she wailed, but no matter the time the heaviness never left. Like it was limitless the amount of agony that could pool in her tiny chest.

When it was over he fell to his knees. The blood pouring from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth. It took a moment or two for him to finally fall. His corps leaking red fluid staining to grass and distorting the fall of the flamboyant flowers. The sight seemed to help quiet the heavy metal.

She laid a hand on her still flat belly, and breathed a heavy sigh. This was no way to greet life. Numb and heavy in the soul, was no way to celebrate the life inside her.

She began walking off, but paused to look back. The scene kind of looked like an anime, flamboyant flowers replacing Sakura petals, falling lazily around the fallen corpse. Her Caribbean Sakura scene.

4 thoughts on “Her Caribbean Sakura scene

  1. Such vivid imagery. You made me feel everything she felt. Interestingly I got angry when she told herself if was her fault. Guess that’s because I’ve spent a lot of time in my life telling myself the same thing. It’s not often my emotions leak around a piece. Wonderful job!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Calen, I get what you mean about her blaming herself, but it’s very realistic, many of us do it. For me however, there were times when the blame was well deserved, and I learned a lot from the experience.


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