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 couldn’t 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, 𝑐𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑤𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 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: 𝑪𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒘𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆, 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒘𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓, 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏.

Author’s Note: This story was written for a writing event.