Friday, May 1, 2015

Five Minute Friday & Sunday Scribblings

I hope that it's ok that I combined two memes in one!  God has been hinting and hinting at me to write.  To practice.  So I am going to try - even though the thought of putting something I've written in front of someone else's eyes scares me more than a little bit! 

Without further ado - I am linking this up to Sunday Scribblings & Five Minutes Friday.  I did write this in about five minutes - but I did make 2 small alterations :/   It's my first time! I'll try harder next week!  

It was ornate, yet old. One hinge slightly dilapidated. 
It rose up and up - my eyes rested on the arch in the center
The door led to a place I did not know
A place of shadows and smells that were unfamiliar

His dry, chalky hand reached for the bell
Out of my throat came a low guttural sound that mingled with the ringing chimes
This door.  This monstrosity.  It opened soundlessly despite its wear. 
His hands nudged me forward.  Over the precipice. 

Everything assaulted me at once
Too much movement.  Too much light.  Too much noise.  Too. Much. 
I looked at his hands. They grounded me. As long as I had his hands to look at, I would be ok. 
I was nudged forward again.  Into a room.  A white bed.  A clock with no time. 

He was talking to me.  Unpacking my suitcase.  Patting my shoulder. 
A nurse came in.  She smiled with her lips only.  Her eyes reflected apathy. 
She handed me a white gown.  Slippers.  I refused them. 
His hands grasped the meaningless cotton and set them on the bed. 

I felt my eyes become wet.  The darkness in my head filled the inside like a black mist. 
He walked out of the room  and I knew it was true.  
I was the demented woman.  I was the one he talked about quickly and quietly on the phone. 
I opened my mouth to scream and let the darkness out. Nothing would come.  

I spent my time looking for the ornate arched door that contained my madness
Every waking moment my eyes searched
My nights were spent sitting and rocking on my bed, trying to remember 
I never found the door again. 


  1. Visiting from FMF. Interesting take. Glad you put your thoughts down.

  2. Very atmospheric with the narrator clearly in control of herself but on the other hand she has lost control of her life.


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