I Did Not Fall. I was Pushed.

Normally a walk through the park after a horrendous day at work revitalized and invigorated Coreuline. But today was different. It was as though her feet were made of lead. Each step was like slogging through quicksand.

Each breathe was that of one drowning and gasping for air. After a while Coreuline stopped to sit on one of the many benches gracing the park. She purchased a salt pretzel from a vendor gave him a weak smile along with the price of the snack. Eating was one way not to hyperventilate.

The next day the crowds at the gallery were light until after lunch when the amount of visitors picked up. Then among the crowds she spotted a somewhat familial face. He said Hello and she responded in kind but after her poor eyesight adjusted she recognized him as the one who attacked her in a different set of galleries four years ago.

Instant panic attack.  Memory of his huge bloated obese body pressing her against hers. Pushing against her so firmly she nearly thought she would become part of the walls. Spittle of a raving lunatic raining down on her hair and face while he screamed bloody epitaphs. The surrounding audience of co-workers stood frozen still waiting to see the outcome of the battle. Struggling to get free with no rescue in sight she summoned every ounce of courage railing at the porcine demon freeing herself from his madness. Or so she thought.  Again as before unanswered calls for assistance because the perpetrator had rights but not the victim.

Yes. She thought once he retired peace and safety would be at hand. But once she saw him she knew her world was coming to an end. On the train ride home she beheld costumed young women laughing and joking after a day of frolicking fun.  Thinking back to her youth a slow smile came to her lips knowing her last summer was at hand.

Then came the nightmares. Michelin men crushing her bones. Squeezing all the air out of her lungs. Suffocation.

Then came D-Day. Patrolling the Terrace, observing visitors enjoying the sunny weather, admiring the artwork, listening to clinking glasses filled with fruity decorative drinks, once again he appeared parting the crowd like the Red Sea. Only he was No Moses.  Clad in black despite his bulk he moved swiftly towards her and before she could draw breathe to scream his beefy hands were around her throat choking her into oblivion.  She felt her life slip away like grains of sand through her toes on the ebbing seaside tides.  Lifting her up high enough to fling her body over the Terrace Garden walls.

Lucky for her internal darkness had descended to cushion her fall into the out stretched arms of flowering vegetational branches.  Merciful Gaia received another one of her battered daughters into her sheltering womb.