Wholly present
23 May 2011 11:55 AM Categories: Writing prompts | Fiction
It wasn’t my life that I wanted to drop, it was my memories, the same old soundtrack in my mind. Purge, purge, purge. Familiar people were a reminder. They made it hard, not only to forget, but to forge something new. I loved them too much and they reminded me of me and so I had to get away from them.
I hoped there would be men to beat me up, not lovers, but dangerous youths with mean streaks and a hatred for the weak and the old. Maybe they wouldn’t live long, which would be a blessing for them, not to be stuck with the repetitive pace of retracing their steps. The first few beatings are beautiful, right, but after a while they would see that they were just trying to recapture the thrill of the neophyte, the gasp of that first imprint of fist upon flesh, the feeling of power in bruising and bone breaking, their bare hands miraculous in their pain-giving prowess. After trying to make the feeling new again and again and again, they would start to falter and age themselves, victims for the next set of youth with dead eyes and sculpted bodies.
The elements would punish me, too, the sun carving out wrinkles and paling my eyes, the wind making my cheeks rosy as a ragdoll's. My skin would form a true protective layer, thickening itself against the cold air. I would open myself up to the kindness of other people, religious strangers who would make up stories about me for their own edification, who would create a different narrative, one that would be out of my hands, perhaps sadder than my actual story.
Meanwhile, my family would mourn me as if I were dead.
I thought about it, the selfish escape, the endless punishment. Punish me – yes. But why punish those who love me in spite of myself? I unpacked the bag and prepared myself for years of work, years of talk and feelings, all this effort just to be here and to teach the boy how to present in his own life.
From the prompt "You dropped it."
I'm posting every messy Round Robin prompt, a prompt a day until the RR ends. Unless I tell you otherwise, this is the original 12-minute prompt edited only for clarity and typos.
Image of the sign at the Evansville, Indiana Greyhound bus terminal by albany_tim.
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