Feelings Freed

The Mind of A Writer

Cup of tea to hand? Check. Bottom sufficiently squished into my comfy chair? Check. Computer at the ready? Check. Hands awaiting typing orders? Check. Staring at the word document in front of me, my fingers are ready for action. I stare at the whiteness on the screen, seeing past it and no longer partaking in the present world. My thoughts drift, my mental television automatically switching on, and like in every cinema, just before the film starts, the screen widens. It engulfs my sight, no longer just a window but an entrance. I'm on a beach, and I feel peaceful. So peaceful.

Once freed from their restraints, my newly naked feet melt into the warm, welcoming honey-like sand. Momentarily, the sun is shrouded behind a mischievous lone cloud; I shudder as a cool, bandit breeze chasing across the surface of the sand steals my gasp and flees with it in my defenselessness. Goosebumps rise on my skin, but the sun soon returns to reassure, banishing the chill and heating me to the core. I open my arms to embrace the sun, I feel her force-field of warmth form around me like a hug, so intimate and comforting. Reaching the sea's edge, my breath catches as the water rushes in to tickle my toes. I realize I'm still holding my breath, waiting for the shock of the cold to dissipate. Caressing my ankles briefly then playfully retreating, I close my eyes as the waves wash back and forth. My lips twitch, the tug of a smile pulling at my cheeks as a childhood memory of my last experience at the beach intrudes. It had been a family day; my parents, grandparents, brothers and sister, even my half-brothers had been there. We'd had to stay longer than most families because my brother had buried his favourite companion – Ducky – and then couldn't find him again. We spent the rest of the day haphazardly digging holes on the beach. We never did find him – poor Ducky became a time capsule of my brother's childhood. I wonder if anyone ever found him? The sun heats my cheeks like a kettle coming to the boil. Bending, I splash salty seawater to my face – imagining the 'tssss' as the cold battles my blush. With a deep, grounding breath my eyes close again as I turn my back to the light of all life and begin to wade the shallows.

The channel changes; I'm in a forest. Broken. I feel so broken. I'm running, pushing myself hard to keep going. I pay no attention to the pinches of thorns to my skin, or the hindering snags on my clothes. Beneath me, my feet scream at me like I'm running across broken glass. My legs feel detached, numb with ache. I can't see through my tears, they keep blurring my vision and giving me chills as the wind cuts across my face turning the hot tears to ice. My breath fans out in front of me like smoke, panting, my lungs protesting at the intrusive cold and my demand for quick, fragile breaths. My foot catches on vine and I'm thrown to the floor in a tumble, groaning painfully as my heavy breathing saturates the solitary silence with sound. My chest heaves, my hands shaking with adrenaline. Dragging myself along the floor, I curl up behind a tree, hugging my knees to my chest and give in. I quickly glance around to check I'm alone, I could only hope that I'd lost them – I'd managed to get a head start on those beasts, although it hadn't been by much.

A canvas of darkness was descending on the forest now; I hold my breath as I simultaneously squint to see past the trees and tense my ears for the sounds of footsteps. Nothing. I let out a sigh of relief. The smell of fern and pinecones mix with wet leaves tickle my nose. My face burns as tears fall, my mouth presses down in an attempt to supress the cry that's trying to rise. A lump swells in my throat, I try to swallow it back, but it resolutely stays put until I feel sick with it. "No, please" I try to whisper to myself, but I shouldn't have opened my mouth, my voice breaks, caught on the blockage in my throat. With a vengeance comes the cry, and the breaking of the dam that had been my will. Hugging myself tighter, I weep, and weep and weep; I weep until my eyes are sore and swollen, until my throat is arid, and my chest rasps with the stitch underneath my ribs, the very act of drawing breath is painful... How I wish I could return to the beach.

The channel changes. I'm angry, the strength of my fury smoulders in my breast like heartburn. My fists clench as I sneer. I survey the army of trees, shining a torch amongst their ranks. How dare she escape! It would be impossible to find her now, in the dark, but come morning, I will. She and I both know it. She hoped she could outfox me; I am the fox. Darkness is descending now, and she doesn't have that much fight in her. Let her loneliness cave in on her. Let her mind make an enemy of itself. All I have to do is wait. I'll give her the rest of the night to build up her false sense of security, but come morning, she'll be mine again. The night has ways of turning perception into deception...

"Do you want a fresh cup of tea?" Asks my boyfriend from the doorway to the lounge, pointing out my now-cold beverage. The question breaks the hypnotic trance my mental television had been broadcasting.

Turning to my boyfriend, "Yes please," I smile before looking back at the blank word document in front of me, my fingers poised in anticipation. Now, where to begin writing?