Femme aux Bras Croises


A flash piece from a painting

Photo by Külli Kittus on Unsplash

The white walls are as blank as my soul, as empty as my life.

I've been in this hospital/prison for six days, and they are continuing to ask my name. My mind answers Josephine. I cannot force my lips to divulge the information.

They call me Marte. It really doesn’t matter to me. What matters most is that they stopped my blood and bandaged my wrists.

I was so close to the blessed relief. I could feel the finality of death on the horizon. I craved that release, but it was denied.



Paula Dotson Frew

I love to write and self-published my first book of poetry last year, a book of Haiku this year, and a book of short stories later this year!