Running away was always the plan. It was the only way in which she felt that she could really breathe. Stuck in a life that only few would understand she was always anxious and pacing. Working on a plan to leave the confines of her cell, she could barely expect anyone to understand.

 Every night as she lay in bed, the sounds of the evening called to her. The scratching of branches on the window, the roof, and the outer walls, all spoke to her. They told her, "Be prepared, you time is coming." So she prepared. She wandered in her mind to other places. She did not worry not about how many people would miss her, or look for her or care what happened. She would be just another prisoner who broke out of her jail.

The problem was always this, there was no real prison; only the prison of her mind. The only jail, the one in which she locked herself up in tightly. She wished no real freedom because then, she would have to make good, she would be expected to live her life and be something. She would be forced to find out what everyone else already knew; there was nothing wrong with her. She knew there was nothing right with her. She was nothing.

It took her years to realize this. It was slow, gradual; but she knew that hiding was her only hope. One night, an owl forced its voice into her mind. She heard it hoot and hoot until the hooting sounded like words.

The words were simple ones, they were "Go now, go now". Go where, she might have asked if she had already considered it. Yet something inside of her did want to go there. She went out of her prison, broke through the cell door and managed to walk down the path until she was confronted.

The surprise of the cold sea as it enveloped her would allow no escape. As the liquid swept over her, it’s face to her own face, her limb to it’s rock; the shock at once paralyzed her and awoke her misted mind. She screamed. The sea hissed back and as it brought her to its depths, she was gone

Copyright 2012 by SheilaTGTG55 and photo by Steve G. Luecht

Views: 92

Comment by marlene Dunham on October 9, 2012 at 5:25am
wow. very powerful. i did not expect that ending.
Comment by Anne Armand on October 9, 2012 at 6:40am

This landscape looks like Maine.  Suicide is really not understood...given help, most would choose life. Story holds your attention. Flash fiction? Agree..very powerful.

Comment by Sheila Luecht on October 9, 2012 at 9:13am

Anne: I was inspired to write this by my son's photograph. It is Lake Michigan photographed in Milwaukee. As to suicide, yes, it is not understood. It is such a combination of things which, for some anyway, it is possible to help them. Clinical, emotional, event spurred, so many can get help. The thing is sometimes, they do not reach out and no one is observing close enough. Who really can? The story is fiction. It was intended to be flash fiction and powerful. Glad you enjoyed it.

Marlene: Thanks for reading. Sometimes I have no idea where this stuff comes from, I just think of it and write!

Comment by Sheila Reep on October 9, 2012 at 5:48pm

This was wonderful writing, it took me away with it.

Comment by Sheila Luecht on October 9, 2012 at 7:40pm

Sheila: Thank you for reading. I am glad you could appreciate the moments I was trying to convey.

Comment by Emily Conyngham on October 9, 2012 at 11:20pm

Wow. You nailed the cold and the delusion really well, Sheila.

Comment by Sheila Luecht on October 10, 2012 at 6:35am

Emily: Thanks for reading. Good to see you here.


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