Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Story, pt. 1 (WIP)

So I'm working on a story lately. Well, I was working on it. I haven't touched it in weeks. Maybe doing this will help me get motivated to work on it again. Maybe.






Empty. The wind is blowing right through me. Hollow. Every sound echoes inside me, no meaning apparent to me at the moment. My eyes are open, I can look and see and watch, but I don’t understand. I don’t care. I don’t see where I’m going. I don’t comprehend any of it. My body does its own thing while my mind wanders off, spiraling away. I’m left here to just float around like a ghost, nothing more. No more meaning. No more hope. 
Everything is gone. Every memory every feeling I can remember having around him, blown away with a few words. I saw it coming, and readied myself for the impact, but it wasn’t anything near was I was expecting. All of what we had doesn’t matter anymore. No more meaning to your smile or your touch. 
Standing still on a lonely, deserted path. A dark forest surrounds me, blocking out the setting sun. The edge of the forest is right over there. I can’t make my feet move. 
Silence. No wind anymore, no movement at all. 
I stand for so long that my knees give out. Sitting on the damp ground, with no coherent thoughts, just exhaustion. I know I should go on, I just need to gather my bearings. Why can’t I get it together? I just need to rest for a little bit. 
Days have passed now. I’m back on my feet, but I haven’t moved yet. My feet won’t listen to me. I see the clearing, the sun shining on grass. A doe is nibbling on the far side. I am so close to freedom, but for some reason, I don’t want to go. I’m afraid of the openness, the freedom, the space. I look around me at the trees, how they are so close and so big, protecting me with their age. Nothing could touch me in here. A safe place to hide. 
Every once in a while, people wander through the trees. I just sit on a branch high above, watching them pass by underneath me. They talk amongst themselves, unaware of me. I swing my legs and listen to their voices, but say nothing. They can’t hurt me up here, so this is where I’ll stay. Some have stopped and asked if I’m okay. I just stare at them. I nod my head slowly, not daring to speak. I don’t trust my voice, it may break something inside, and let out all the emotion i’ve held onto for this long. So I do not answer their questions, and they go on without me. 

One night it rains. By now I’ve carefully built myself a little shelter out of fallen branches and leaves. I hide, curled up in the corner, but in the end the wind takes it all apart, because I have nothing to hold it together with. The rain is cold, pierces my skin like small needles. I decide I’m through with nature, that I need real protection if I want to live. Without another thought, I run for shelter, somewhere, anywhere. I stagger through the wet leaves, everything blurring; I haven’t gotten much sleep since I came here. My body is weakening with the effort, and I know I can’t get much further. 
I suddenly hear a shout behind me, and fear shocks me awake. I run faster, and trip over a root, falling down. I can’t get up. I don’t want to anyways. 

Footsteps. Arms around me, picking me up. The movement is too sudden, the world yanks me around and around. Then I black out. 

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