Farmer’s Market Bag
I was told to de-robe because torture is best served nude. Next I was instructed to lay face down, that way I wouldn’t be able to see the tormenter. It wasn’t long before the stranger walked in the room. The tormenting began with intense rubbing. Not slow, relaxing rubbing, deep, fast, chaotic rubbing. If the tormenter got to a muscle area that was tender she applied more friction, harder and longer. She then grabbed my left arm and swung it around in unnatural ways. She began to stroke it intensely as if she were striking the truth out. Next she flung it across my back. She quickly walked to my right side where she grabbed my left wrist and pulled it across my back to the right side. She repeated this pulling on the other side and then moved to my legs. I didn’t think the distress could get worse than what I experienced on my arms, but I was wrong. She lifted my left leg up and whipped it out from under the sheet. She then bent my left knee out to the left like a frog’s leg. Next she picked up my left foot and twisted my ankle out to the left. It wouldn’t move any further so she pushed down on it, so hard that the rest of my body came off the table. She didn’t appreciate my body’s response so she began trying to detach my skin and bones by abrasively stroking my skin and muscles. Eventually the torment ended. It was time to stand up. I was lightheaded. “Walk this way,” they said. “I can’t take anymore,” I thought.
The weather has been dreary and cold until yesterday. Yesterday Mr. Sun made an appearance. It felt like Fall. Sleepy, as usual, I drug out a blanket, a pillow, and a book to soak up some Vitamin D. My dog could not have been happier. So there we slept. The book was just for show. I can’t imagine a better way I could have spent my day.