FROM MAMIEGAIL
Breath
She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath for fifty years.
Born into sorrow, she had lived her life as a vulture for love. As she grew older, her thoughts seemed to dangle just above paranoia, her fight or flight always engaged, sometimes even in sleep. Her troubles felt like mountains, her heart the river rushing beneath them. Pebbles of happiness rippled the surface, but more often life’s rocks were thrown violently against what she would have preferred remain calm waters.
She stumbled upon her ability to relax while worrying an ancient stone of shame. Like a talisman, she’d rubbed this jagged rock to smooth glass. It became a mirror, and as she gazed into it, she saw that the reflection smiling back at her had changed. She was safe. The furrow in her brow was gone, the hard, ever vigilant eyes softened.
Time had done this, time and love.
She breathed deeply; let out the long, contented breath she should have known as a child and cried.
CRITIQUE
"Vulture for love"...oooo, that is a gooodie.
I want to like it, but the metaphors are flawed and you let them go too quickly. You need more mountain and river lingo to really make it pop.
MOUNTAIN
mudslide
landslide
rock slide
avalanche
peak
summit
base
snow
boulder
outcropping
jagged
RIVER
rapids
babbling
roaring
bend
winding
turbulent
current
undertow
dam
tributary
divert
Don't those words make even MORE meaning pop into your mind? This strikes me as a piece right at the very beginning of poignancy, but cut off. It wants to say something very deep and emotional, but the writing prevents it. It wouldn't take much to change this little piece from a pestle to a knife.
I assume the "pebbles of happiness" fall from her "mountain of troubles", which doesn't jive. Either the mountain or the pebbles need to change to make the metaphor match. Either the pebbles become negative like "irritation" or the mountain becomes something not so negative like "challenge" or "life" from which both good and bad things can fall.
It's impossible to see ripples in a rushing river; you need a calm lake for that. A river just swallows whatever is thrown into it. Also, a rushing river cannot "remain calm" since it was never calm in the first place.
Now the "ancient stone of shame"...that caught my eye. That could be anything - childhood molestation, a sour romance, etc. - but then you muddy the metaphor again. "Talisman" is more something you hold in your hand or wear and "rubbed" confirms it. Maybe stick with the river metaphor. A river can rub jagged rock to smooth glass. And then she looks into the stone of shame, which is lodged in the river of her heart...you see how GREAT this piece could be?
Also some clunky language. So...good start, some great flashes of what it could be, but the writing falls way short to my mind. I think you should call it "Breathe" instead of "Breath", by the way.