"Crying," by Meredy Amyx






     Whenever Katrina was bored, she liked to cry.

     She enjoyed crying. It energized her body and gave her a sense of bright purpose. Afterward she felt relaxed, purged, cleansed.
     Katrina's life was idyllic, free of stress, trauma, and want; nothing external disturbed her peace.
     That was exactly what bored her. What wasn't soft was smooth. What wasn't white was pink. What wasn't hers did not exist. Queen of her realm, and yet a prisoner of her lot, she lived a life without contour, challenge, or the refreshment of deep distress.
     And so she wept with all the frustration of power confined and communication thwarted. She wept with loneliness. Most of all, she wept because there was nothing else to do.
     And when she wept, soft hands would come. Soft voices would soothe. Soft lights would pour over her like milk. Soft, smooth, sweet. Grrr! She was bored. She longed for color, spice, cold, heat, for things rough and coarse and dirty. She desired not spheres and ellipses but corners and points. She craved something hard to push against so she would know her strength. She wanted Noise!
     Noise she could make.
     When she learned to talk, she would tell them.

Copyright © 2007 Meredy Amyx.
"Crying" was completed on April 20, 2007. This story appeared in the June 2007 issue of WritersTalk, the newsletter of the South Bay Writers Club.