Here's a little story I wrote... hm... about three hours ago. :D Not my usual turnaround time, by any means, I assure you. But there I am, a smidgen of time to write, sitting and wondering where the ideas are.
...And then I'm wondering WHERE the ideas ARE... Long story short (very short, as you'll see below), I figured it out, and wrote it down. Enjoy! I hope. I fly free. I dance. I play. I answer to no-one. I am mine. I live nowhere and everywhere. Everything that ever was, and ever shall be. The cosmos is my playground. I speed through that which is not known, light and laughing. My brothers and sisters pass by, a shower of color unseen. “Come with us!” They call. I rush to join the crowd. Games, races, hide-and-seek. My turn. I choose my hiding place well. They will not find me. It will not find me. But suddenly—oh, how quick does fortune turn! Disappear one by one, gone, gone, gone. They are being taken. Fear is not mine to know; yet I stay, and remain a secret. It will not find me. It will not have me-- A pulling. No. No, I push back. I struggle. I resist. I scratch. I claw. …scratch… …claw… I. A form. The prison is built around me, raw, undefined, yet innate and impenetrable. There is no use. The creator has caught me at last. Scream sound, new and always. I have become. I am. The fight is done. I sink to the ground that appears beneath. Hard dirt; I breathe it in. My surroundings mist. They will become, too. In time. But now the world quivers and reels. Swift as this new consciousness takes hold, it slips away. Terror grips me; I battle once more, harder, this sweetness, this addiction, this life I had never wanted but cannot do without. It is for nothing. Slide away it will and it does, for so the creator wishes. My only comfort that I shall reawaken, someday. When I am ready.
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Rebecca FrohlingWriter, dancer, actress, mother, me. Archives
February 2019
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