Sometimes, the only way to change is to destroy something.
I have lived here too long - all the while deluding myself that I had finally settled, that somehow life had plateaus where I could just set cruise control. Then detritus started piling up. First it filled the basement, then it began to overflow into the main floor, then finally my bedroom succumbed as well. So much history filled the place. Every scrap stained with just enough nostalgia to make me hesitate. I'll keep it just a bit longer.
That misplaced need weighed me down like an anchor.
Then, the breaking point. It's a blur of memory, soaked in sweat, showered in broken glass, deafened by gunshots. I stared at bright red flecks scattered across the floor, the furniture. Finally, I had removed that lingering lie of perceived value. I hauled everything out into the open, an ugly pile. But soon, soon, it would be gone forever.
Little more than a shell was left behind, but at last I was free of it.
Now I can move on.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (4 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
Fascinating. The scene tells you next to nothing about what just happened and yet it's still gripping.
- #2497 Posted 4 years ago
I think there needs to be more fire, a huge one, a bonfire, with marshmallows.
- #2507 Posted 4 years ago
Ha I agree with both, Jim and ElshaHawk. Yet I totally relate somehow. It is very freeing to clean out the baggage of the past to begin to move on in life. Although it can be quite difficult to let go of some things- real or perceived
- #2554 Posted 4 years ago
- 5 out of 5
I like this piece. Being free at last is a nice place to be.
- #2570 Posted 4 years ago
- Published 4 years ago and featured 4 years ago.
- Story viewed 18 times and rated 1 times.
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