The Pathology of Empty Skin
Prompt: Every emotion a human feels becomes written on their body. One day a woman is found with empty skin.
“I’ve lost the ability to feel…,” she said.
The doctor nodded and lifted her arm gently. He scrutinized it carefully, turning it back and forth several times. It was blank. Letting go, he went to reach for her other arm, hanging limply at her side.
“I’ll save you the trouble. You won’t find anything there either,” she said quietly. He moved mechanically to check her arm anyway, regardless of her faint protest. It too was blank. There were no words, no emotions imprinted upon her dark skin.
She tried to meet the expression of the doctor, but he averted his gaze every time. His eyes were a cold shade of grey that made his face look pale and lifeless against the stark white of his coat. She could make out several words beginning to appear on his hands as he studied her anomalous body. The letters materialized slowly in a dark blue shade. Astonishment. Surprise. Expectation. Disgust. The last word would have made her cringe if it were a few years ago, but no longer. It has been a long time since she felt dejection or despair. Her skin was smooth, but the lack of emotion written on its surface marked her as flawed.
She stood quietly in her medical gown, with her bare feet touching the cold floor of the hospital room.
He brought over a light to better inspect her body. Its brightness caused her to recoil. Not an emotion, but a reflex. The word “confusion” snaked up the doctor’s neck.
“How long has this been going on? Have you noticed the same phenomenon within your immediate family? I wonder if there is some kind of genetic abnormality…,” He asked the questions faster than she could answer them.
“Five years. And no, it’s just me.”
“But you do feel, right? The issue is that it doesn’t manifest on the skin. Perhaps there is something wrong between the neurotransmitters in your brain and the epidermis? Or maybe an issue with the pigment receptors,” he inquired without looking up. She couldn’t tell if he was talking to her or himself. He was now inspecting her legs carefully looking for the remnants of language.
Did she feel emotion? She couldn’t be sure. If she did, her body certainly wasn’t recognizing it. She did feel pain, but the doctor before this one carefully explained that pain in and of itself was not considered an emotion. Pain could lead one to experience emotions, however, such as fear. She looked at the doctor who seemed absorbed with his examination. She wondered if a more normal person would be experiencing fear at this very moment.
“I’m going to check your scalp. Maybe the emotions are there, just hiding in plain sight.”
She patiently sat while he parted her textured hair over and over in every direction. But she knew he would find nothing. If emotions were to be found, her hairdresser, who had seen her since she was a child, would have observed it long ago. She certainly noticed when the words and then the emotions stopped appearing in the first place.
The doctor walked over to his clipboard and scribbled some notes. Turning the light off with a click, he looked towards her finally meeting her eyes.
“I’m not quite sure what is wrong, but we’ll figure it out. I would like you to come back next week for a reevaluation. I have a prescription I would like you to try, and next time I’ll involve my colleague who might have some additional insight…” His voice trailed off, and she saw the word “doubt” materialize on his cheek.
He left the room in a hurry. She gathered her things slowly and methodically, replacing the hospital gown with a t-shirt and jeans.
On her way out, she noticed the pen that the doctor left strewn on the counter. She paused for a second before picking it up. She wrote “anger” on the top of her hand and inspected it closely. The ink flowed smoothly and had a faint iridescence against the skin. Almost impulsively, she added a question mark.
“Should I be angry?”
Taking one last look at her hand, she put the pen back down and walked out the door.
Christina is an art historian, a professor, and a writer of both fiction and non-fiction. She is also a lover of cats and coffee. If you enjoyed reading this, feel free to clap below. Or follow her on this journey.
Thanks for reading Writers Guild — A Smedian publication
Join our Facebook Group. Write for us. Share your many stories on ManyStories.com
