RACHEL'S BEEN SITED

Pieces

The wilderness had never felt less like freedom.  It had been their escape in the ages before; whenever the concrete world started to crumble, when the bruises had felt more like home than punishment.  When there’d been nothing left except a stale acceptance that this is what life was now, this is what they were meant for.

When that look had started to creep into one of their eyes, the other one had unfailingly jumped up, grabbed an arm, and wrenched him away to this speck of tree-lined sanctuary.  The pool of dirty water that they’d named a pond; the shrubs that had risen up like forested walls to protect them.  And, for a little while, they had breathed the free air and thought maybe they stood a chance of escaping it all.

But today he came out alone.  His pressed white shirt felt too starched under the black blazer.  The tie constricting his throat, making it impossible to breathe.

And there was nothing in this that felt like freedom.  The water was rainwater.  The shrubs were shrubs. The magic was gone.

The cold earth, the pine box, had swallowed more than his brother that morning.

A drabble created as part of a simple writing exercise: put your music playlist on shuffle, start writing a scene inspired by the music, and stop as soon as the song is done.  This piece is named after the song, by Red, that was playing while I wrote it.

Advertisements

Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: