4.12.2012

Short Story

I wrote this story a year ago. I don't know what put that image in my mind, but it just wouldn't go away until I wrote it down. Today, I'm going to share it with you.

She stood on the front porch and watched it rain. The water just kept coming. She remembered her mother used to say it was raining cats and dogs. She never understood why she said that, but the memory washed over her anyway. She was thankful for the rain; the earth needed it as much as she did.
She watched as the puddles melded together and formed a river down the street. The river snaked around rocks and trees cutting its path to the flat land at the end of her road. She was instantly reminded of how much she hated snakes and wondered if Zulu was thriving in the forest.
Her soul needed a rest. She felt exhausted from trying to keep up with everyone's expectations. They wanted her to be happy and lively; two things she hadn't felt in a very long time. It was as though they planned her life one emotion at a time. She was to feel overjoyed by their generosity and in awe of their ability to feed her needs. They didn't know her at all. 
She hated their pretentiousness and the idea that they could create the perfect life for her. He meant nothing to her and she didn't love him at all. He did everything wrong and tried his hardest to assimilate to her life. He bought a car like hers and he discovered a love of ballet and theater he never had before. He wasn't real. He was their version of a Stepford Wife, and he was to be her husband in a week.
Could she escape now? Where would she go? She had no family or friends; they chose her well. This was completely insane. How could she have been such a fool? Despite her troubles, the rain just kept falling. She thought that maybe if she watched it long enough, she'd get the answers she yearned for. She breathed in deep and smelled the rain mixed with fresh cut grass and the flowers in the garden. If she closed her eyes, she could smell the dirt and the metallic scent of the wet pavement. Then she heard the engine of the F150 down the road; it was out of a dream. She hadn't heard that engine for years; she was surprised she could remember how it sounded.
In her memory she saw another rainy day when he told her he loved her and she ran from the cab like it was on fire. Her heartbeat was so fast, she thought it was going to explode out of her chest. He loved her? But he was her best friend! He knew her everything. He held her hand when she buried her parents and her hair when she got drunk three hours later. Now he loves her? All she could do was run from him. Now all she wanted to do was run to him. He came from a time in her life she barely remembered. Maybe this was her saving grace.
Smiling, she stepped off the porch and climbed into the cab.
She never looked back.



And because I hate leaving a post without a picture, I will leave you with three of my favorite images from Easter Sunday.







No comments:

Post a Comment