Sitting on the edge of anxiety, life was cemented within the four walls. Whenever I dared to step outside, the lingering reluctance seemed to incarcerate my desires time and again. Fear hovered over me like bees buzzing over twinkling wildflowers. That night I couldnβt sleep a wink, looking at the sky I kept listening to the reverberating footsteps from that fateful day, when he incinerated my face with an ounce of acid. My inner fears muffled by the walls but the sheets of rain caressing the window offered me solace as if pelting my fear to run off my inner window.
It’s been almost seven years. Now sitting on the edge of a gurgling brook with my feet dipped in her coolness. I felt at ease almost after a lifetime (seemed so). Overhead, πππ‘π‘πππ€πππ π ππππ danced. A butterfly hummed nearby; its wings catching glints of gleaming sunlight as it zizzed from one flower to another. They flashed green, orange and ocher. Beyond the past, beyond the fear, beyond my disfigurement I suddenly felt safe without the four walls.
Somewhere a caterpillar went a metamorphosis yet again, winning over her fears and feeling safe yet again with her inspiring zeal.
Note: πͺπππππππππ πππππππ π ππππ ππ ππππ, πππππππ πππ ππππππππππππππ π»ππ ππππππππππ ππππ ππ ππππππ ππ π πππππππππ πππ ππππππ ππ, ππππ ππ πππ ππππππππ π πππππππ ππππ πππ ππππ ππππ ππ πππ ππππ πππππ ππ πππππ ππππ πππ.
Authorβs Note:Β This story was written for a writing event.
