As I said, I was recently inspired when out and about to write a short story. This is the result, after having time to simmer in my little brain first too. This is only a first draft and I will continue to develop it perhaps in the future. I would LOVE to hear your feedback and opinions though, so please, if you wouldn’t mind taking a couple of minutes out of your time to read and give feedback that would be great. I don’t even know if it makes sense to anyone but me haha.
To live and be alive.
She had to leave. Get out, no, just get away from it all. Get away before she couldn’t take it anymore and disappeared. That is what would happen. If this continued, she could not. She could not exist like this. Restless, she didn’t care about the thunderous clouds or is she would be missed. Spontaneous, she left. Not a backward glance. Recklessly stumbling into the world.
But where to go? The cold lonely streets in this quiet town had nothing more to offer her than the prison ‘home’ she had left. Nonetheless she kept walking. She seemed as if she had a purpose, a direction. She knew not what this was, or where she was going. One can still have a direction, even an unknown one. It was one only of instinct. Instinct being the only thing in this world that she could trust.
The cars and lorries rushed by. They all had a purpose. They all had their mundane jobs, functions, errands. If you asked them they could tell you theirs. Stories of travel, travelling through the same places, back and forth along the network of roads. Taking people on their journeys, or retrieving them from another hard day in the office, it’s all the same. If you had asked her what her purpose is though, her function? Only to move forward and keep moving. No beginning no end no final destination. Just onwards, forwards, always. Just get away from here and get to there.
And so the people and cars and busy streets and loud noises of the old life melted into birdsong and the occasional rustle of what may have been a small creature in the undergrowth, perhaps even a mythical one, if she had come that far. The sun and moon chased each other across the sky as the shadows between the trees grew long and then short again and again. Between the trees – trees which now dominated the land where buildings once ruled. Tarmac and concrete crumbled into a leafy carpet, a furrow in the soft grass trodden and shaped by time and many previous wanderers. This path the only indication of a direction; forward. Forward, forward, always onward.
This was safe. She was still moving forward as she had always done up until now, but it was with less urgency now. She was well on her way to escaping. It was unlikely now that the old life would be able to snatch her back. She had found where she was headed. The trees protected her, her new world of bright hope and joy. This was safe. Floating gently onward now, no longer a traveller but a wanderer. The roots underfoot now sucking away all the toxic past, the soft golden light above trying to penetrate through and cleanse her soul. This is safe. This is home. This is what she has been searching for. Not just as a traveller, but her whole life. It was only clear now, as all futures are with hindsight.
The light that fed the trees was feeding her, as it burst through the rain clouds. She gasps as she is filled with an overwhelming joy and source of new life. Held in place and time, this was it. She had found it. Found Home.
This is home. This is safe. This is life.
Suddenly she is running, no, gliding; flying! No longer moving amongst men and women of this world, no, she does not run like they do. Running has purpose but this isn’t purpose. This is reason, this is instinct. Trees blurred into one, into her soul, truly flying; soaring above all danger and all that can hurt her. She is untouchable now.
Beautiful peals of laughter like the sunlight on shower droplets escaping her lips. Repeating again and again “I don’t exist. I don’t exist…” through the laughter as each time her heart was filled and swelled with pure freedom and life. She soared into the sky, drinking in the sunlight. Indeed she definitely was no longer moving with the people, or running from them. Rightly so she did not exist among them, exist as one of them: “I don’t exist. I don’t exist…”, no longer trapped in the prison world of yesterday. She has found everything she ever truly needed as she soars and floats among the clouds, shines like the sun and skims between the stars. Freedom. Life.
Dearest Reader, do not think that she no longer is with us. Perhaps she does not exist in the world that we know, but you may still see her. When the stars shine extra bright or the sun wins a battle with those miserable clouds. In that playful breeze that skips and laughs between the grass; you will find her. She does not exist in this world, no, better than that. She will not exist here and never will again. But she is still very much alive.
I hope that made sense and I am looking forward to hearing your thoughts lovely readers