An hour of Therapy
There were three colored stones set
in the base of the statue. Each stone was about a fist in size. The one to the
left was white in color and rested comfortably underneath the right hand of the
statue. The middle stone was a lite, almost milky red and the right one was
black as obsidian. The black stone sat under the left hand of the statue. Before
the statue stood a make shift alter with various articles placed loosely about
it. That is where he found her, Half-kneeling before it. He wondered why she
cried. Soft sobs from deep within her, spilling out like blood from a wound, as
she let her head fall into her cup shaped hands. He was not sure if she knew whether
or not he had discovered her there. Perhaps she remained oblivious due to her
curious state, or maybe she didn't care if he was there at all. His uneasiness
grew as the time he stood there observing the scene lengthened. He tried to
determine if she was making some sort of act of contrition or if she simply
sought a means to diminish her silent pain. She had auburn hair which curled
upwards at its tips. She wore a blue and white cotton dress which seemed
slightly slept in. Her sleeves were very full and they were crimped neatly at
the wrist. If he had any knowledge of what or who the statue was, his insight
into the moment would have had at least some assistance. He decided to step
back into the shadows of the great Corinthian pillars which loomed in the room,
observing all the while this dreamlike event unfold…
“That’s enough for today. Next week
I’d like you to bring your dream journals with you.”
An hour of therapy goes by so
quickly he thought.
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