She settled down on the slippery rocks, exhausted from the process of obliterating her memory. The chilled water lapped gently against her feet. The surface still crackling with the remnants of electrical shivers. Lonely sparks dancing a dangerous tarantella, desperately seeking companionship but spinning only further from their brethren. It must have been something truly dreadful to warrant such drastic action, but as the last of flickering lights petered out, and the chill crept heavily up her gown she could feel the vestiges of anguish release her muscles and allow the weight of relaxation settle back into her body. Her lazy finger traced shallow ripples, multiplying the interference until the pattern was lost in the turbulence. It always felt like this afterwards, like some powerful sedative had cleansed her mind. All that remained was some nebulous sense of acute pain in the distant past, covered by a gauze of dissipated lightning, as if the brilliance had burnt out that piece of her past. A past that was punctuated by such abrupt deviations into blissful vacancy, she hadn’t learned to integrate the voids with reality and so held a calendar of moth-eaten years. Now as she looked back, her solid life was becoming fragmentary, almost incoherent. How many of the faces that she saw on the street looked strangely at her because they were what she had expunged for her system. How many lovers and enemies had she lost in the storms? Serenity permeated her visage as she rose slowly from the shore, her soaked dress trailing through the sand and made her way back towards civilization. It was the beauty secret of the century, the antidote to all pain, the promise of a perfect life and a burglar in cahoots with her id, stealing precious pains.
(c) Accidental Tentacles 2016