If only I had wings.... (Open)
Jan 10, 2012 22:44:22 GMT -5
Post by miladyfirearms on Jan 10, 2012 22:44:22 GMT -5
It was late afternoon. School had let out a little over an hour ago. Sarah knew she should have been headed home. Her mother would be worried if she wasn’t back soon, but she didn’t want to go home just yet. She was too restless, too anxious. So she found herself walking, no direction in mind really just putting one foot in front of the other and seeing where her feet took her. It was already cold, but thanks to her grandfather’s jacket, big and brown, and two sizes too large, she was warm.
The most dreaded day of the year was fast approaching. She had tried not to think about it but when you told yourself not to think of something, it was a guarantee that was all you would think about. Every year was the same, for three now and it never got better. There was the sick feeling of dread when the district gathered and the terror she felt just before the names were called, then the guilty sense of relief when it wasn’t her name. She had four more years of it including this one. She wished that she could bury herself in the mud like she had heard some animals did and hide until it was spring. She couldn’t do that, couldn’t do anything but grow more and more anxious every day.
Her pace increased and she realized she hadn’t been just wandering, she had; had a destination in her mind even if she had not been consciously aware of it. She stopped suddenly when she came to a clearing at the top of a hill. There was a loan tree in the middle, massive and old, and attached to a limb was a rope. It was the swing. It had been there for as long as she could remember and even before that. It had been there when her mother had been small. The rope had been replaced over the years but it stayed the same. It was a single rope with a small loop at the bottom for your foot that hung three feet off the ground. There was a large rock that you could push yourself off.
She came here often. Her father had started taking her until she had gotten old enough to go on her own. Even after she had reached the age where most kids had stopped coming, she had kept coming back. There was something about it that made her feel free. It made her anxiety fade away, even if it was just for only a handful of minutes.
Sarah approached the rock now. Grabbing hold of the rope, she brought it back and slipped a worn brown shoe into the loop. With her other foot she pushed off. Soon she was swinging back and forth in wide arcs, moving her hips to keep up the momentum. Eyes, open and head tilted back, she stared up at the fading light of the sky and wished for the millionth time that she had wings and could soar away
The most dreaded day of the year was fast approaching. She had tried not to think about it but when you told yourself not to think of something, it was a guarantee that was all you would think about. Every year was the same, for three now and it never got better. There was the sick feeling of dread when the district gathered and the terror she felt just before the names were called, then the guilty sense of relief when it wasn’t her name. She had four more years of it including this one. She wished that she could bury herself in the mud like she had heard some animals did and hide until it was spring. She couldn’t do that, couldn’t do anything but grow more and more anxious every day.
Her pace increased and she realized she hadn’t been just wandering, she had; had a destination in her mind even if she had not been consciously aware of it. She stopped suddenly when she came to a clearing at the top of a hill. There was a loan tree in the middle, massive and old, and attached to a limb was a rope. It was the swing. It had been there for as long as she could remember and even before that. It had been there when her mother had been small. The rope had been replaced over the years but it stayed the same. It was a single rope with a small loop at the bottom for your foot that hung three feet off the ground. There was a large rock that you could push yourself off.
She came here often. Her father had started taking her until she had gotten old enough to go on her own. Even after she had reached the age where most kids had stopped coming, she had kept coming back. There was something about it that made her feel free. It made her anxiety fade away, even if it was just for only a handful of minutes.
Sarah approached the rock now. Grabbing hold of the rope, she brought it back and slipped a worn brown shoe into the loop. With her other foot she pushed off. Soon she was swinging back and forth in wide arcs, moving her hips to keep up the momentum. Eyes, open and head tilted back, she stared up at the fading light of the sky and wished for the millionth time that she had wings and could soar away
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