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Feb 07
fiction 2 comments challenge: Photo 6 - Recurring
Zia Smith's picture
Zia Smith

The Flowers

             My eyes open. I see the walls tall, surrounding me. My head throbs and I sit up, my mind barely awake. My hands push against the hard ground and I start to crawl to the door. Slowly, with every muscle in my body, I strain to reach the door. It seems so far away, towering over my small body. The doorknob is gone so I lift myself and peek through the hole where the knob should be.
            The bright sunlight is a shock for my eyes. I feel like I have been in the darkness for a long time, longer than I can remember. I jerk my head back, making my headache worse and then putting my eye back up to the hole. My eyes adjust for a second and then I can see. The field around the building is tall with weeds and trees. The plants are dense, and there is a path that is grown over with lots of flowers and bushes. The flowers look so pretty blowing softly in the mid-afternoon breeze. I want to see the flowers up close, feel their delicate petals and see their vibrant colors.
            I look back inside and realize how small this shack is. I want to get outside where the colors are shiny, and the light shines down all around. I put my cold hands on the door and begin to push. After a while, my hands begin to tremble with fatigue and I let my arms fall. Now my only thought is to get out, to see those flowers and to follow that path. I sit back against the door and study the room again, but this time more closely. There is one window that does not let any light in. The dirt of many days is covering the glass, and it creates a dull, lifeless glow. I use all my strength and stand up. My legs feel wobbly underneath me as I walk across the room. The window is just the right height, and with my sleeve, I wipe away the grime that has collected there. My eyes become wide as I see even more flowers bending in the wind. They wave to me and whisper to come out and dance with them. I wish with all my heart to dance and lie with them.
            Anger begins to surge, and I begin to bang on the glass. I open my mouth; I want to scream; I want to leave and reunite with the flowers just out of my reach. My hands, balled up into fists, pound against the glass, and it breaks and falls onto the ground with a loud crash. I am surprised, and I wonder how I could have broken the window when I could barely walk across the small room. The thought vanishes, and I begin to hoist myself out of the window.
The glass scratches against my hands and once I am out I look down, but there seem to be no cuts. I begin to run and the trees and flowers begin to sing to me. Their song lifts my spirit and I leap and twirl until I become dizzy again. I fall down laughing into the ocean of blossoms. I can see the buds that are just beginning to grow. I pick a blue Iris bud and as I hold it in my hand it begins to grow until it is a beautiful fully grown flower. I look with awe on the magnificent flower sitting in the palm of my hand. I feel like I can do anything and tuck the blue flower behind my ear. I get back up and start walking away from the small hut and out into the forest. I walk through the woods and sing to myself as I walk. I bend down to look at a little flower that's colors are just demanding attention. I look up and my heart stops and my eyes feel a sudden sadness. I see the hut broken down sitting in the weeds and flower just like I had seen it before. I shake my head and turn around in a different direction. I walk a little faster and its as if the colors of the forest have become dull. I stop again dead in my tracks. I see the hut through the trees already. It's roof sagging from old age and beaten by harsh winds. I keep walking but at every turn, I see it, in every direction if follows me. Finally I know that it has won and I fall down against a tree. I curl up and pray that it is all in my head. I open one eye at a time but all I can see are the faded silhouettes of thousands of flowers spread over the forest and field. They still sway in the breeze but now it is as if they are saying goodbye. I squeeze my eye tighter and I am engulfed by my own darkness.
My eyes open. I blink as the dim light seeps into my eyes. I feel the hard surface underneath me, cold and baren. I am tired from tossing and turning all night. I prop myself up and look around. The same familiar space welcomes me into another day, another dark and grim day. The hut is not very big with no windows. I don't even bother standing and I wish to go back into my head where I see light and meaning. My imagination that blooms in my dreams has started to wilt in the darkness of the morning. But its thirst for freedom still lays awake deep underneath the soil. Now, I lay back down and stare into space, another day has begun and like every other, there will be no way out.

 
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Posted: 02.07.18
Zia Smith's picture
About the Author: Zia Smith
Zia Smith
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Discussion

Comments

  1. ShanRippWriting
    Feb 12, 2018

    This was a very interesting piece to read! I loved all the details you included. If you wanted to revise this, I would suggest breaking up the text into paragraphs so it's easier to read. I included comments on where a new paragraph should begin. Nice job, Shannon :)

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  1. kfolley
    Feb 15, 2018

    What a haunting tale, and I like the way that you weave the two visions into the story, that of the flowers and freedom and that of the hut and imprisonment. I made some comments about the use of lie in your present tense story. Keep writing. We may use an excerpt of this for publication, but the entire piece would be linked to it. To view proofreading changes, select Revisions.

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