I am laid up in bed as I write this. In absolute agony. I have a weak neck and back when anything goes wrong the stress goes straight to it. So I am ceased up and confined to bed for the evening. As a result, this week, your challenge is to write about being trapped.
Maybe it’s a metaphorical prison, or a real life one. Perhaps a mental prison of your own doing. Whatever the cause, your challenge is to write about being trapped.
Rapid breaths lifted the silk cloth off my face. Up and down. Up and Down. Up and Down. I was freezing, it was cold like the back of a refrigerator. Tingles stuck to my spine and spread into my limbs like poisoned tentacles. I wriggled but straps around my hands and feet tightened. Where the fuck was I?
Muffled voices filtered into my jail.
“Jenna Roberts died at 8:51am from a pulmonary embolism. I am so sorry for your loss. Would you like to see the body?”
Jenna Roberts? I’m Jenna Roberts.
I screamed, convulsed and pounded the cold hard surface I was lying on.
“Ok. I understand this is a difficult time. She will be cremated this morning.”
I screamed again. Louder. My heart thudded like a hammer banging desperately against my ribs. I had to get out. I wasn’t dead. They’d made a mistake.
The click of a switch echoed around the metal container. My cold bed moved, and the heat from a thousand furnaces filled my prison.
Now to last week
Judy from Edwina Episodes has written this
The reflection in the mirror
Told her that she looked just great
The look she had put together
Was just perfect for a date.
The hair so sleek and stylish
The skirt above the knee
The sassy high-heeled sling backs
And the skimpy little tee
She had waited for this moment
For far too many years
Hiding her true feelings
Giving in to all her fears.
Finally she took the plunge
To make her dreams come true
She felt as though she was reborn
And her life could start anew
She sprayed a little perfume
As she walked outside the door
This time as a woman
Not the man she had been before.
Allie writes an awesome entry that reminds me of my own life!
In the wee hours of the morning, I carefully tiptoed to our bedroom door. My wife shifted as I opened the door, exposing a bare shoulder. In that moment, she was once again my beautiful princess.
“Moommm!” howled the toddler down the hall.
My shoulder’s slumped as I turned from our bed and walked down the hall. His majesty beckoned.