Pain(t)

Kali Wood

Alan Grotesphan

Creative Writing Fiction

12/2/25

Caroline felt a pain like several deep gashes in her stomach and hips that radiated up her back. It was a violent pulsing Beast that debilitated her while she laid on her side, knees curled up as she shuddered. She stared at the wall, she hated that wall. It was a dull tan color that she hadn’t bothered to paint when she moved in. Each house her mother promised would be her last except for this one, so she hadn’t bothered.

She really hated that wall. It was boring, and depressing. And the side of her bed pressed against it but she couldn’t see her window from the position in which she laid. Even if she could she would still be able to see her neighbors if the curtains were open. She didn’t know why that bothered her so much, maybe because they would also be able to see her. It bothered her almost as much as this wall. Every time she had one of these episodes she was forced to stare at it in quiet contemplation. Like she was now, headphones in but nothing playing.

She was bored.

She could do something about this. Caroline sat up too fast and it made her dizzy. She stumbled out of bed and to her desk. She thinks about how she should probably get a cane as the Beast attacks her spine with all it’s got. She braces her hand on the table to hold herself up and grab her masking tape. She falls back onto her bed, the Beast chasing her. It clawed down her hips again, and blood ran down her thighs. She secured the tape on the wall in a rectangle and separated it into four quadrants. 

She fell back onto her bed with a huff. She stared at the tape, wondering if it was straight enough. The Beast bit into her, holding her down as she stared at her paints. The pain felt like burning this time, deep in her stomach. It was an inferno. It was still too early to take more pain medicine, and it wouldn’t work anyway. It never did. She wrenched herself out of the Beast’s jaws, they tore at her insides as she went. She rolled over to pick up her paints, pallet, and brushes off the floor by her bed. The Beast clawed at her waist and dragged her back, but she had her paints and that was all she needed. This monster wasn’t going to win. She rolled over onto her back and used all her effort to sit back up. 

With great effort she stood on her knees so she could reach the top of the rectangle. She painted with light blue stripes over the top of it, making her way down. She squeezed the navy blue tube of paint across the bottom and blended it with the light blue paint on the wall. The Beast punished her for her offence. It sunk its claws deep into her stomach, disemboweling her.

She used the red spilling out of her to mix a nice lavender color for the shadow of the clouds. She went to slam her hand into the Beast’s snout as it nuzzled affectionately into her hip, but there was no Beast. Her fist slammed into her hip with a pop. She felt better. She mixed white paint in with the still wet light blue while she had a moment of respite. She mixed red paint in with the brown and painted up with long vertical strokes. Off from those strokes she paints branching paths, like lighting emanating from them.

The Beast returns, it licks at the mess of wounds it left at her stomach, a painful apology to say the least. She braced her hand on its forehead. To stretch up and dot a deep red around the branches. The motion jostled her spilled guts. She wasn’t worried. It hurt less than the Beast. The Beast who once again nuzzled its snout into her hip. Caroline pet its head as she sat back down to mix an orange. Its claws were still buried in her stomach. She dotted the orange around the red, spreading out in a hazy speckle. Caroline felt dizzy again, she felt acid burn her throat and swallowed it back down. She wanted to be able to do this.

She wanted to pull her shirt off and feel the cool air. She felt like she was burning, but this oversized t-shirt was the only thing between her and her beastly warden. Besides, the doctors had said that heat would help. She scooped up yellow paint with her brush. Then she added smears and dots of yellow around the orange, she also speckled some spots of it into that deep red.

The end result looked a bit like a fire, the one that was burning her. The Beast bit at her hip again, more blood spilled down her leg and onto her sheets and blankets that pooled around her knees. She was glad for it, it hurt less when she bled. She fell back onto her bed with a sigh as the Beast dislodged its jaw from her hip. She rolled over onto her stomach to mix a light green. Then she stared at the ceiling, headphones in and listening to nothing. There is a shaky thunk thunk thunk sound coming from her too loose ceiling fan, she paid it no mind, if it fell it would fall on the other side of the room. 

She groaned after a minute and sat up, the Beast objected to that action and sank its claws into her chest, not as deep as the damage to her stomach. Each imagined injury ached as she stood on her knees again. She had to be able to at least do this. She used her palette knife to smear large, swirling, swaths of green across the bottom of the rectangle. Then when there was less paint on her knife she spread it up, vertically, leaving a scraped pattern on the tall burgundy lines. She swatted at the Beast’s paw, but there was no Beast so all that happened was her hand brushed against her chest. She put a line of yellow paint across the edge of her pallet knife and put it on the edges of her swathes of green. 

She sat back to see an autumnal forest set against an evening sky with fluffy white clouds. There was a great deal of lush green plants and brush growing at the base of the trees. Now all she needed was one thing before she peeled the tape off the wall. She picked up her smallest brush and covered it in white. She used it to layer on the shape of the Beast, with its long snout, its triangle shaped ears, its massive paws. The shape of it painted here looked endearing. She painted white over where a figure would go next to it. 

She waited impatiently for it to dry, hand over her stomach. Headphones in listening to nothing. Once again staring at the wall but it didn’t feel so incredibly miserable now. Once the paint was dry enough, still tacky, she painted greys over the Beast and purples and pinks over the figure. The Beast looked at her painting and whined. She pet its head, sympathetically. Then she leaned back and looked at the painting again. Caroline smiled, satisfied. She leaned forward and peeled off the masking tape. Then she laid on her bed and stared at it. Her window to another world, where the Beast was real and had a friend. It’s almost like she had company while she suffered, but company that wouldn’t talk. She didn’t feel like talking.

Just then her mother knocked on her open door and walked into her room. “Would you like something to eat?” she asked.

“No Mamela. I won’t be able to keep it down.”

“I like your painting.”

“Thanks, I needed another window here.”

“Sheyfele, you got blood on your sheets!” her mother took a step closer. Caroline looked down to see a few small spots of blood on her red sheets.

“Oi vey, can’t I catch a break?!”

“Is it very bad today?”

“I’ve had worse.” screaming on the bathroom floor from outside of her body. Caroline shakes her head, trying to shake the memory out of her vision.

“I can warm up the heating pad. Do you want me to wash your sheets?”

“No, but I would like the heating pad.”

“Sheyfele sheli, that is a little gross.”

“Why? I’ve already got blood all over my thighs.”

“You should go change your pad and take a washcloth to your legs.”

“I know, mama. I can’t walk that far right now.” Caroline rolled her eyes. She was probably being mean, her mother only wanted to help.

“Do you want help?”

“I want to be able to walk by myself.”

“We’re working on that.”

“No doctor believes me. This isn’t normal. I want to-” go home? No. Here is home now, because here is where her family is. So what she really wanted was, “I want to get better. I want a diagnosis. I want to know if this is killing me.”

“You aren’t going to die. Caroline, let me help you to the bathroom.”

“Okay.” her voice was small, she felt small. Her world felt small, confined to this room and barely able to walk to the other end of it.

Her mother brought a rolly chair for her to sit on. Caroline crawled out of bed and fell into it. She tucked her feet up and her mother rolled her out of the room. Caroline let out a huff. Her mother said, “Are you ready, Sheyfele sheli?”

“Ready for what?” Caroline asked. Her mother ran her down the hall as fast as she could towards the bathroom. Caroline held onto her chair and laughed, despite herself. She was able to clean up quickly in the bathroom, her mom brought her a warm washcloth that got the blood off her thighs. It barely left any red stains behind, she was impressed. Her mother also brought her a change of clothes. As soon as she stumbled back into the chair her mother pressed a heating pad to her stomach. 

“I’m going to take you back to bed and then I’m going to make us dinner. I know you’ll feel better and want to eat by the time it’s done. What do you want?”

“Tacos, please.”

“You got it, Velvele.”

“Little wolf? What happened to little lamb?”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s very masculine, Mamela.”

“I asked whether you like it.”

“I like it better than shayfele, considering I’m not a kid anymore.” Caroline laughed. In truth she hoped her mother would never stop calling her shayfele sheli, but she would never admit that.

“You’ll always be my kid, shayfele sheli.” her mother said as she rolled her back to her room and helped her into bed. 

Caroline was left facing the wall, with the heating pad pressed against her  stomach. She stared out her new window as the pain faded, becoming less intense. She had to stay laying down, but at least her wall wasn’t so boring anymore. She pulled out her phone, which her headphones had been plugged into, playing nothing, this whole time and put on a podcast. Which she listened to as she continued to stare at her art, imagining she could walk through the trees. 

There was now a world where the Beast was a faithful companion. Maybe the woman next to it was a princess, or a great warrior. Maybe she was waving to Caroline through the window. Maybe she tamed the Beast to rescue her.

Caroline’s stomach growled, she was so incredibly hungry. She couldn’t wait for dinner, maybe she and her mom could watch a movie afterwards. 

Cheap Coffins

Kali Wood

Alan Grotesphan

Creative Writing Fiction

10/22/25

It was a quiet affair. I was laying down the whole time, a soft pillow beneath my head and a comfortable roll of fabric beneath me. I had told them to just get whatever was cheapest, it wasn’t like I could feel it. Well I thought I wouldn’t be able to. I guess it was nice of them to go against my request. I wondered who was there, sitting in uncomfortable chairs, crying over me. I could feel people standing over me. I felt a kiss on my forehead, some flowers pressed into my right hand, someone holding my left. I think that last one was my nephew, I always liked him. He always spiked my sweet tea.

I don’t quite remember who did what, maybe my memory was finally going. I do remember what they all said. My brother said, “I won this bet, I guess. You’ll have to save me a seat in the afterlife.”

My daughter said, “You didn’t know this but you were going to be a great grandma.” I felt a hot tear hit my palm, for a moment it warmed my whole hand.

My partner, Susan, said, “You were my world Mil, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can, alright?”

I wondered how I looked, I could feel that my hair was brushed and braided, laying against my chest. I think I was in my favorite blue dress. Having my white hair against my blue dress was a good color choice, I was impressed by whoever prepared me. Though I wish they hadn’t glued my eyelids shut, it didn’t hurt but I wanted to be able to see. Now that I was thinking about it, nothing hurt anymore. How nice, this was at least gentle. The end had not been gentle, it had hurt right up until the moment it didn’t anymore. 

No music was playing. When I realized that no music had been playing I thought it was a shame. Crying to nothing was just sad. I heard my granddaughter’s voice as her speech began. It was a tearful speech. She said I was the best grandma in the world. Which I suppose meant now that I’m here I’ve lost to that bitch, Ethel. She hadn’t really done anything wrong, she just had a habit of excluding my daughter. She said that she’d miss me. I wasn’t sure if I’d miss anyone, I didn’t know what would happen next. She said that she would remember me at every music festival and every time she knits. I didn’t know if I’d get to remember. It seemed a bit unfair that I didn’t know so many things, but all of my emotions were sort of muted under a soft cloud, so I didn’t kick up a fuss about it. Besides, my mother raised me better than to make a scene in a funeral home.

There was an awkward half-applause when her speech ended, like people weren’t sure if they were supposed to clap. To be honest I wasn’t sure either, I didn’t remember. Remembering was getting harder. I was carried, silently. Then I drove in a car where the driver was playing music and humming along. 

I prepared myself to be lowered into a hole in the ground, but that never came. Instead I opened my eyes and turned around. I had stayed and my body had been lowered down. I looked old. I didn’t care about that, so I turn to my family instead. Holly is doing a poor job hiding her baby bump, I bet everyone has figured it out by now. My nephew is trying to be stoic, his wife has a death grip on his hand, and his little daughter looks like she doesn’t know what’s going on. It is silly to bring a three year old to a funeral, comical even. My little brother is crying. My daughter and Susan look like they’re halfway between throwing themselves in the hole with me. They won’t though.

I don’t know what comes next. I doubt it will be a physical place where I will be able to save my brother a seat. I’m not sure I believe a light will shine that I will need to head towards either. And I now know that I will not stop existing yet. There is something that will come next. Something gentle, something kind. I will miss my family as they miss me. I don’t feel like I will get to follow them as they live their lives.

My family will be fine.

I blink. I’m floating on high. Stars shine around me. 

I’m ready for whatever comes next.

A Cruel Husband

Kali Wood

Alan Grotesphan

Creative Writing Fiction

11/2/25

The saw sliced down through the wood perfectly, it unnerved Liam. The wood was a light tan color and it was hard in his hands, but the saw sliced through it like it was butter.  Still, the cut was so perfect that the soft grey line that Liam had left to guide himself was entirely gone. He lifted the board and wiped the sawdust off with his hand, splinters in the saw dust leaving behind a bloody smear. His fingers stung along the fresh small cuts now littering them. He tried to use his other hand to push the sawdust off, but instead it mixed with his blood to make a ruddy brown smear. 

For a moment he just stared at it…

“You okay, man?” Liam turned to the source of the voice to find his friend Julie standing behind him. She was significantly younger than him with hair she kept buzzing, he thinks she just doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of hair. He also thinks that maybe in another life he might have had a daughter like her, but he’d never voice that out loud.

“Yeah. Yep. Just got a couple damn splinters splitin’ my fingers.”

“You should wash that. How’s your wife doing?”

“She’s alright. Just a bit of a pain in the ass.” Julie’s face contorted into a momentary disgust at his answer. He could barely hear her next words over the pounding of his heart.

“Why would you say that?”

“She just… has her hobbies.”

“And you have yours. Don’t be a dick, old man.”

“You’re probably right. Though I could have done without the ‘old man’ comment.”

“Too bad. You know it’s men like you that are the reason I’m never getting married.”

“You don’t need to pretend like you have any interest in men around me, Julie.”

“I could like men! Hypothetically.”

“Right. Are you going to help me with this table?”

“Only if you wash the blood off your hands first.”

“You got it, kiddo.”

Liam had such a nice, normal time with Julie, he forgot he had to go home. He considered turning off his phone and sleeping in the shop instead. That wasn’t an option. He had no money to buy dinner, she hadn’t given him enough cash today for that. He had to go back to her, so Liam got in his car and drove home. He arrived and opened the door as quietly as he could, hoping against hope to just go to the guest room and lock the door. He wasn’t a lucky man, and that did not change today as his wife stepped out of the hallway and into the living room to greet him. Her hands were dripping red. He didn’t ask.

She told him that he was home late. He told her that he knew that. She asked him who he had been with. He ignored the question and went to the kitchen to grab something quick to eat, he decided on the cold pizza in the fridge. She asked him again who he had been with. He decided to lie and told her he had visited his father. She pounded her fists into his bruised back. She told him that he was lying, that he had been with another woman, that he was cheating on her.

He asked her who was in the hallway. She told him that she didn’t know her name. She told him to forget about his food and help her dig. He took his dinner to the guest room without bothering to heat it up. He slammed the door in her face and locked it. He ate until she stopped pounding on the door. He washed the blood off his shirt in the sink. He wrote a note and hid it in a small hole behind the mirror. It’s a note for Julie, for the day he stops coming to the workshop. He goes to sleep.