Evelyn seldom graces the mirror with her presence these days, but when she does she prefers to do so without the aid of the progressive lenses which have become essential in bringing the finer details of her world into focus.
It’s not so much the sacred Sanskrit of age which has etched itself ever so cunningly across the canvas of her once immaculately youthful reflection that keeps her away, but rather the inexplicable absence- of even the nuance of smoke- which once rose from her in sharp. hot. breaths. that now causes her to wish to remain, invisible….
Written for Friday Fictioneers.
Thru Violet's Lentz 
Great stuff!
LikeLike
Thanks HRR.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wonderful
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks SWD
LikeLike
😀
LikeLike
She is losing her fire.
LikeLiked by 1 person
She is indeed.
LikeLike
I know how she feels. Nice one!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Me too! Well. Maybe she is Me? Hmmmm
LikeLiked by 1 person
I loved the image of the Sanskrit of age.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Neil
LikeLike
I think this is a tale that slowly develops within the reader’s mind. I shall probably mull on it at least for the rest of the day.
In the meantime, LIKE!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ooo thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You tell this story exceptionally well. Like Neil, I love “the sacred Sanskrit of age” – that is a gorgeous description. And I like your very brave second paragraph, all in one sentence of – how many? – 60? – words. Brave – and effective.
Kudos!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love me some run on sentences. The thought process at least mine is ripe with them and the idea of writing stream of consciousness appeals to me. Thank you Penny
LikeLiked by 1 person
Excellent Violet, it’s difficult to reach that point where you know you have passed your peak – but I hope she manages to keep the fire burning a while longer!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Iain.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The age etched in my face keeps me away from the mirror now-a-days. Nice details!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Brenda.
LikeLike
Mirror, mirror on the wall, no longer the fairest of them all.
LikeLike
All of us who are older know how she feels. I also love the sacred Sanskrit of age. The other day I looked at a picture of my SO and saw an old man. In person I perceive him as he always was. For those we love, it’s the same person. But for those who don’t know us… we’re just an old woman or man whose fire is slowly guttering out.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You definitely understand. Thank you
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautifully descriptive.
LikeLike
I loved every single bit of this.
How difficult is it for us to see the marks of time…
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is difficult. And I wonder if it is our society that worships youth that makes it harder, or if it is just human.. Well human as in humans that live 100 years as opposed to the 50or 60 years they used to before we began worshiping youth…
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think this youth worship doesn’t help at all! As we do live way longer than before, I.like to think this attitude will change. Wishful thinking?
LikeLike
There’s a lot to think about in this piece and in the comments. For a moment I thought maybe she was a ghost, when you mentioned the absence of smoke (breathing). But Gah’s comment is perceptive. The other day I was picking my husband up from an appointment, and he’d started walking in the direction from which he knew I would approach. When this strange, somewhat elderly gentleman unexpectedly stepped off the pavement to wave me down in a place where I hadn’t expected to see my husband … A good story, one I shall mull over.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your comment made me wonder if it is the Sanskrit of age that allows us to retain our identity with those that know and love us and the lack of smoke or smolder that allowes us to become invisable to the rest. Hmmmm…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dear Violet,
I feel the same way about my reflection these days. 😉 Well done and made me want to know more about her.
Shalom,
Rochelle
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Rochelle.
LikeLike
There are signs you don’t want to read even if you know them by heart
LikeLiked by 1 person
I was never much of a mirror gazer, but now I don’t even know who that old codger is staring back at me. I think he looks better fuzzy than in crisp detail.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I remember at 16 I had a fella who often sang the chorus to Witchy Woman when I walked by.
I know how she feels.
LikeLiked by 1 person
We are so not alone.. Thank you Dawn.
LikeLiked by 1 person