Penname: Edwina Cullen

Original or Derivative (fanfiction): Original

Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s): T

Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

Prompt: Phrase Catch: Repeat the following phrase to yourself five times, open a blank document and begin: "The writing is on the wall."


FINDING MY WAY HOME

How to Cure a Broken Heart was clearly an absurd title for the movie I had opted to watch this morning. Through nearly two hours, I had not once seen a solution for the ailment the producers had led unsuspecting patrons to believe curable.

In fact, there had hardly been a broken heart to heal in the entire plot. Generally meaningless and seemingly unsure of its protagonist and antagonist, the movie failed woefully at portraying any healing in the resultant life of a five year old girl who got lost at the fair.

Found alone and starving by a young, attractive tycoon, the girl was taken to her new guardian's mansion to be cared for as his child. Later, coming of age and discovering her true heritage, the college graduate found herself split between finding her way back home, and staying with the savior to whom she had grown attracted.

Meandering in many realistic and yet surreal ways, the inexperienced girl soon opted to stay after spending a night with her potential beau. Unknown to her the man she so eagerly chose to marry was not as pious as he seemed. Gradually and surely, he unleashed a string of torments over his family until the disillusioned young wife finally run away.

I sighed, turning away from the TV to fetch another roll of tissue for my bloated eyes and running nose. Beside me stood the still full glass of coconut milk my best friend had brought me before leaving for work, now forlornly set in a small puddle of melted ice. Precariously close to it, a box of Snickers laid half open, the Snickers nearly finished, and the box now filled with bunched-up, tear-filled tissues and empty wrappers.

Today was the first day of my maternity leave, and I was glad to raise my feet and let down my hair without worry in my final respite before the twins were due. Over the last few months, I had grown quite tired of my irritating colleagues hovering in corners during coffee breaks, endlessly gossiping about me. Some even turned to look brazenly toward my desk with pitiful stares as they speculated the source of my pregnancy.

Worst of all, my boss hovered over me like a bee over flowers. Seemingly oblivious to her work, she made it her mission to inquire about my health at least fifty times each day. Her awe was apparent, leaking through her wide-eyed wonder whenever her vantage point gave her clear sight of my enormity.

At first, I found her attention very puzzling and irritating, but soon understood why the 23 year old graphics design guru ignored her work to check my state.She had never seen pregnancy up close before and wondered how this great discomfort could match the dream she held in her heart.

So, it felt wonderful to settle down in a couch and watch movies all day. As I had the night before, I lifted my legs onto the miniature bar stool my best friend, Bella, had placed there for my comfort. Huddled under a warm blanket, I barely made it into the next movie before falling fast asleep.

I rarely slept without dreaming. Until I moved to Bella's apartment, I was plagued with nightmares of horrible creatures sent to kill my children and me. Sometimes, I would also glimpse elusive visions of children with golden eyes dressed in royal regalia seated on identical thrones.

This time, however, I dreamed I laid in the meadow surrounding a castle. Around me, daisies grew in rainbow colors while the heady scent of roses saturated the air. The sun shone brightly, warming my skin as I closed my eyes and soaked in the pleasurable weather.

Suddenly, everything changed and a gloom was cast over the sky. Lightning struck through the darkening clouds, a clap of loud thunder shook the ground and a shrill wail of a woman in pain rose over the fading sound of nature's anger.

I shuddered, wrapping my cloak around me tightly as a draft of cold air swept over me. I could feel my heart beat faster, as I ran to escape the clutches of whatever followed me. My breath was shallow and my steps loud, racing over the cobblestone path.

A voice called to me, urgent and pleading, but I ignored it. My single purpose was to hide from my pursuer, and to save my unborn children from a horrendous end. Suddenly, an old woman opened a door along the path and beckoned me in.

I turned to look at her and was jolted awake. Trembling with lingering fear, I realized it must have been the creaking door on the small porch that had awoken me from my terrifying dream.

Probably thrown open by the wind, it stood ajar, letting in a dull beam of light across the polished hardwood floor and over the vacant pale blue walls of the windowless hallway.

I crossed over to close the door firmly, feeling my way through the sudden darkness as I headed to the kitchen for a ham sandwich. Sated and reinvigorated, I headed back to while the day away in my favorite spot with a glass of milk.

I lifted my legs and bent slightly to retrieve my fallen blanket. Wrapped up in my cocoon again, I raised my eyes to the television and froze.

There in red ink, right above the sophisticated home theatre, was writing on the wall.


A/N: findthewill makes it all so beautiful! Thank you, BB.