I wanted to thank you all for all of the likes, reblogs, comments, and inboxes I received after I posted my first excerpt (which you can read here). I still can’t believe I reached 100! So as a thanks, I wanted to elbow my demon of self-doubt in the ribs by posting a second one.
One good turn deserves another, right?
Also as a thanks, I will be following everyone who likes/reblogs/comments/sends me a message about this excerpt. Because contributing your energy to this blog has left fingerprints on me and my writing in a way that can’t and won’t go unrecognized. So it’s my deepest and sincerest hope that you enjoy this!
In this excerpt of Meditations In Wonderland we get a chance to look intimately into my protagonist, 24-year-old Elizabeth, as she confronts her biggest demon: herself.
Elizabeth stumbled into the bathroom and groped the wall for the light switch with the needy but precise fingers of someone functioning from the blurred state between being awake and being asleep, where the subconscious mind still pulls the strings.
The light streaming in from the window behind her caught the medicine cabinet mirror, beckoning her. She flicked the light on, and rubbed her temples as she approached the sink. She couldn’t reach for her toothbrush. Instead her hands gripped the sides of the sink, her white knuckles complemented the porcelain as she held in a scream. It wasn’t the toothbrush she was after this morning.
“Almost there…” Elizabeth murmured as her eyes grew closer and closer to catching her own gaze in the mirror. Invisible needles pricked her spine as her eye contact grew more imminent, making her damp grip slide on the porcelain. Slowly, slowly, her eyes inched upward to meet themselves in her reflection.
When they finally connected she thought they looked like black holes, despite the fact that they were really a dark shade of green. To her they looked like doll’s eyes, as if behind their luster resided secrets long withheld, locked away beneath their glassy depths, entombed in a place few dared to reach. She saw the inset wrinkles on her forehead, and the faded acne scars. She saw the thin, white scar above her left eye where her childhood cat scratched her long ago. She saw the delicate skin under her eyes as an abyss of purple and twisted veins. The sight of her canvas of skin and sunken eyes made her furrow her brow, which only made the storylines on her face grow deeper. They began to look like trenches, and when Elizabeth tugged at them they only fell back into place like obedient soldiers. An acidic revulsion crawled through her and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention.
As she looked away the goose bumps that dotted her neck subsided, leaving her body cold. She picked up her toothbrush and threw it at the sink with such force that it was as if she wanted it to fly down the drain and reappear in another dimension.
“Ellie? You alright in there?” said her boyfriend, Adam, who sat with Fitz, their French bulldog, just feet away on the living room couch.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she called out to him, her pulse racing again, “I just dropped something.” It was on days like this that the studio apartment they shared took the form of a small labyrinth, with each sound reverberating against the walls and closing in on them in a broken chorus. She unwrapped her fingers from the sink and splashed cold water on her face.
“What’s wrong with you!” her internal monologue began, right on time, “Who can’t look at themselves in the mirror? Are you crazy?”
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