Madness

They said she should go, so she went.  Every move she made had become someone else’s decision.  She tried hard to remember.  How long had it been?  When was the last time she was free to come and go and get angry or sad all by herself?

An unfamiliar landscape whipped past her.  Daunting shadows of memories and dread.  Her thoughts raced as terror seized her.  Escape became more necessary than air.  The car stopped.  Time stood still.  Opportunity pushed opened a door and she hurled herself and into the night.  Running.  Scared.

Briars tore at her clothes as she cleared the woods and stumbled into an open field. Every muscle ached, but she dared not stop for fear of she knew not what.  Freshly plowed furrows led her down to a narrow road where she forced her legs to carry her the full length of its winding.

The smooth sand of a deserted shoreline eventually opened up to welcome her.  She collapsed into its time-worn softness, sucked in the damp salt air.  Sobs broke their silence.  Tears spilled into the sea.  And then, without warning, laughter.  She rolled back on her heels and howled at the absurdity of it all.
turbulent sea

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The above is a fictional response to the Writing 101 prompt:
“What are you scared of?  Address one of your worst fears.”  

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13 thoughts on “Madness

  1. Would it freak you out a little to know I GET that? Been a good “little girl” for so long that there are times I just want to do something purely because I need to be rebellious. At least that’s what I tell myself. But I think it’s just that whiff of fresh, non-organized air that I need. In your job, I imagine you’ve spent quite a lot of time feeling that way. Like you have to do everything just so, can’t question or explore… (Maybe I’m totally off base, though.) My son was going to go to seminary. He spent six months as a pastoral assistant at our church then chucked it all because of politics. Said he valued honesty more than that.

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    1. Would it freak you out if I shared my intention was to write of madness in a more literal way? My tale is loosely based on someone I know. Someone who truly is losing her mind, and is, as a result, scared to death. For all practical purposes, she is homeless; and I have been horrified by her vulnerability in a society that neither cares nor notices what becomes of those it regards as disposable.
      Although, I agree. Politics in the church can easily send one running.

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