As I have picked up my pen again recently in an attempt to write fiction, I thought as I have reshuffled my blogs lately that I would begin posting my collection of Snapshot Stories originally published on IshaiyaFreshlySqueezed. I like these pieces of flash-fiction because they are often very spontaneous and require little editing. This particular piece is the first of a collection of three stories, which I shall be publishing in succession. I like this little series because it was based on a real person, or at least my interpretation of that person, and great fun to write. I hope you enjoy!


 

 

If I could measure my life against the worth of your wisdom, I would indeed be saved from all this pain.

Leading me away as you do upon a merry path, I am apt to forget what I came here for. You are not the cause, and I know that you mean well. You are but the instigator of the charge that leads me else-where when I should be here and present with the life that I know I have.

But I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to go knowing that I have wronged you in some way. I wish us to be friends. Except I know that will not suffice.

It is a quandary I find myself in.

When did I become so afraid?

When did I stop listening to the voice that kept me still and calm?

I feel a sense of guilt, like I should have made a better decision before. Before I became so entrenched in my own self-doubt.

There are things that happened in the past that bother me still, and I just can’t find the words to express how I feel.

Now you come charging in and upset the balance. You change it all around and turn my little world on its head.

I want to talk to you, but I can’t. I can’t open that door. The flood that waits behind it might just pour in and swallow me whole. And I don’t know if I could take it. Not like before. I strayed and I paid.

“Knit one, pearl one, off with his head!”

You should have seen the crowd cheer when his chin hit the deck and bounced!

But no-one was laughing, not really. I joke about it now, but it really wasn’t funny. The thought of it makes me sick to my stomach, turning around my insides like a fucking great serpent!

And you…you just stand there and watch from your distant perch! You can smell my fear, and you act as if nothing touches you, as if it’s all par-for-the-course!

You had me for a moment, I slipped and let my guard down and you leapt on it like a …like a… a rabid dog….ARGH! This is frustrating!!!

YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT TO DO… what I’d like to do…

I guess in some ways you’ve opened my eyes, you’ve made me see what I might have been had I not vanished beneath my disguise. But I can’t turn back the clock. No matter how much I want to. It’s just not in me. You understand? Don’t you?

I think of you.

Often you know.

I know you can hear every word I say to myself. I’m not really that bothered, I mean I quite like the thought of it, of not being the only one who is aware of my life, my shit.

I want to talk to you. I want to connect with you. But to torment myself with that?

Why put myself through the gut-wrenching anguish of not being able to have what I crave?

There are facets of me that I think you don’t see. I’d rather you didn’t. There are things that I’ve done, said, that I know would hurt you if you knew. Yet I can’t help wonder if you know anyway, and you just choose to say nothing?

I don’t know… maybe I’ve got you all wrong. Maybe you don’t judge me at all. Maybe you accept all the scary stuff as much as the good and the benevolent. Maybe I’m just too much of an idiot and a coward to admit that I might be wrong; that I’ve been hiding under the wrong palm-tree all this time. That my oath to do good is nothing but an escape, an excuse not to face my demons.

I may have chosen a different path, one where you hadn’t appeared, to sell me your wares. To show me what I’ve been missing out on for all these years. Your face just reminds me that I’m no good at what I do anymore. That any love I had for anything in my life is gone. And it rains down heavily upon me, like the thunderous storm that carries the monsoon.

So go away. Leave me alone.

Uh! Except that’s not what I want! Again you frustrate me! My inability to reconcile myself with all of this, with YOU is stifling!

I want you to be right here, right now so that I can show you what I mean…

And there it is… that feeling of intoxication that I love, that YOU stir within me. You confuse the hell out of me, but I love how you make me feel. Like breathing in the heat of the night after a storm; full of the smells of the damp earth, and the fresh green tang of the trees and plants with their roots dug deep into the ground, clinging to the bare flesh of the land.

I close my eyes and imagine you right there before me, and I’m undone. I can do nothing but submit to you. Not in defeat, but because I want to.

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