Vessels By: Martina Isaksen
Like oil lamps, flickering, full of the fuel of life, we burn against the dark devouring night. Each one of us, a separate universe: thousands of moments, accomplishments, memories, and adventures, barely kept together, bursting at the seams. The stories spill out of us, each one unique and each one creating rivulets of precious life fuel: ready to burn, ready to light up the dark.
A boy stands in the rain, looking through the shop window at the frozen face of the mannequin. He’s cold, and it’s getting dark outside. Briefly, he wonders if the mannequin is warm, if it’ll be worth it to walk into the cozy light of the shop and bask in the warmth. With a slight shake of his head, he decides against it, resolutely walking down the cobblestone street. As he walks, an emptiness overtakes him, emptying his heart and leaving only loneliness. He shivers suddenly and looks up. Once again, he is entranced by a shop’s light. This time it’s a bakery and the boy gingerly wonders if the inside of the shop smells as heavenly as he imagines. The light from the bakery which had been slipping into the street through the open door suddenly is blocked by the silhouette of a woman. The light filters through a halo of curly hair, creating beautiful patterns against the cobbled street. “Can I help you?” She looks at him with motherly affection, a soft smile on her face. “Not really, I was just going” The boy shrugs under his thin shirt, attempting to look brave. “Why don’t you sit here and wait out the rain?” “Really, I was just going…” The boy trails off as he smells the warm scents of the bakery. The woman laughs good-naturedly, and leads him inside. Her hair wafts gently as she walks, like the flame of a candle attempting to stay alight. The warmth envelops the boy, but that empty feeling prevails. There is a hole in his chest, empty and aching.
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