The Plea for Sanity

December 25, 2012
By journeyflower SILVER, Anywhere, Alabama
journeyflower SILVER, Anywhere, Alabama
8 articles 0 photos 4 comments

Favorite Quote:
If your heart is a volcano, how will you expect the flowers to bloom?

A faceless body.
That’s all I am to him. Another set of arms and legs, with no identifying features. His eyes glance over my papers, and pretend to read the words. The words that I had slaved over for months, perfecting each sentence, correcting each paragraph. He nods as he skims, acting as if he is drinking in the nouns. Finally, he finishes. He looks up, and begins to speak. “Very interesting.” He takes my labor with him as he pushes back the rickety wooden chair. “We will contact you soon, Miss. Hamilton.” He says. But his eyes tell a different story. They politely ask me to leave, and to never return. All I can do is nod a bleak yes.

Another plea down for the count. I kick pebbles as I walk down the sidewalk, hands in my pockets. At the rate this is going, hope might as well be dead. The wind bites into my arms and the air sends a chill to my bone. I’m running out of time.


“Mom?” I hear my voice whisper as I push open the door. The house is cold, colder than I ever remember it. No light is visible and I stick my hands out to feel my way toward her room. My voice whispers again. “Mom?” it pleads. As I reach her wood door, I swallow a lump of fear and turn the door knob. Over and over again, I hear my voice call out mom. I wish it luck.

As I enter, pain overtakes me. I collapse on the floor, and my hands twist out, grabbing at the frigid air, begging for help. I lay on the stone ground, my hair splayed around my head. Blood oozes from my shoulder and trickles down into a small puddle between the tiles. My mind is full of just the word pain. Pain. And with this on my mind, my body shuts off and I demise into a small puddle of agony.

The author's comments:
I truly have no idea where this piece will take me. But I adore it.

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