Equals

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She was a stone, silent and shapeless in the neverending sea.

Tears rushed out at the depth of this betrayal -- her own mind, her own mind! -- and then they were gone. A part of herself swung out into empty space. No time was there, no distance, no connection. She felt the cold pull of it, the purity of it. There she could let go of all the pretence; all the struggle, all the pain. She could just let go. It was frightening, but only in a distant way; the scent of the goddess was near.

Ruth was slipping. She knew she should resist: Something big was at stake. Something huge. But she could not say what it was. Could not quite put her finger on it. And there had been so many shoulds in her life, vast mountains of shoulds that she could never seem to overcome, no matter how hard she tried. All those shoulds had only ever caused her suffering. Ruth was tired of suffering.

Instead she forced her eyes open and let it in, all of it. Willed it in. She drank and drank from the goddess's eyes, filling herself with truth, feeling it push out the lies she had gripped tightly all her life, feeling them exit through her skin. She would break from the sham that was her life. It had all been a mistake, a terrible mistake, but she could fix that now. A new way was opening up. She would become less -- but also purer, brighter, more concentrated. She would have purpose, at last. She would know a kind of pride. She would cease striving in vain, and be what she was always meant to be.

And yet she was afraid.

How terrible must the sculptor's chisel seem to the stone! Her precious flesh will be judged, she knows; whole limbs and organs cut away, she knows. And what if the sculptor should strike a false blow? How could anyone bear it? Ah, but it makes no difference in the end. It must happen, this ordeal, to reach that longed-for place of dignity. It must happen in order to become good.

She breathed in, and it came to her like the outline of a familiar object in the day's first light: No false blow was possible, because they came from the goddess, every one of them, and the goddess was truth.

Her face was lifted up; she lifted it higher to accept it. Her eyes were open wide; she opened them wider to accept it. She breathed in once more, and accepted it, and she touched herself then, and was free.


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doublebinddoublebindover 3 years agoAuthor
Reply to lowradiation

Thanks lowradiation, I've replied. From now on I'll check my emails regularly so no need to notify me here :)

lowradiationlowradiationover 3 years ago

Hello again

I've sent you another PM

doublebinddoublebindover 3 years agoAuthor
Reply to notusuallyshy

Thanks for the kind words! I'm sorry that you were hoping for a redemption arc that didn't come -- I realise that's a popular story flavour, but it's just not the flavour I enjoy. If there is a sequel, things will continue to worsen for Ruth.

Like you, I'm frustrated by who is disdained and admired in the real world, but for some twisted reason, for me this manifests as fantasies of even more extreme and unfair treatment. Most of the "work" in my stories is in getting, at least somewhat plausibly, to a point where one character realises that they can take advantage of another without thinking about the latter's needs at all, and then acts on this realisation. Which I fully understand is diabolical ;) Hope you find a story with a happy ending to enjoy :)

doublebinddoublebindover 3 years agoAuthor
Reply to lowradiation

Thanks Charles! And thanks for mentioning your PM, prompting me to actually check that email account and reply :)

notusuallyshynotusuallyshyover 3 years ago
Painful

Very well written, plaudits are deserved! It was a painful read, so that is credit to you. You describe a socially unaware awkward girl who is compelled to put others before herself. The pain is the cringe of someone so callously taking advantage of her. This is something I've witnessed a thousand times over in one form or other and what I hate most is the disdain that others have for someone who is compelled to serve. Surely other people deserve disdain more, but more often they tend to attract admiration instead.

I have a vain hope that Ruth actually has a border line personality disorder and finds that her Goddess has skanky dirty clay feet and because she has allowed herself to be humiliated by serving a false diety she brings out the chains and instruments of punishment and unleashes her inner demons. I do like a happy ending!

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