Slam dunk

‘She lay there, burised, battered, waiting for the numbing pain to stop, needing to feel safe enough to allow herself another breath.  The pain in itself would have been enough to break her, but the noise...oh the noise!  The searing, ear splitting cacophony that would trickle through her every waking thought, plagueing her, taunting her.  She knew she would never sleep again.

The tears came, she could not stop them, they welled up and spilled fourth like a river bursting it’s banks, wave after wave of anguished sobs squeezed her throat or every drop of life giving breath before jolting her wrecked body and reforming for another attack on her fragile state.  She attempted to move, hot searing pain shot from her neck through her shoulder and down into her fingers like drops of molten metal.

How could this happen to her again?  She felt her cheeks flush as her body filled with the shame of what had befallen her.  Had she have acted when she was warned then the mornings events would never have happened at all.  She only had herself to blame’.

Today I decided in my infinite wisdom that my slippers, although worn still had plenty of life left in them, despite the soul catching on the floor each time I raised my foot, despite the hole the size of the Grand Canyon, despite the tread being so worn that they looked as though they had been polished by a professional slipper bufferer, I still decided to wear them.  These would be perfect, I thought, for my new hobby.

Staircase skiing.