Walking

Another 100 word story - with some extras letters tacked on to make complete. The prompting line for this piece "Each walk should be taken as if it is the only thing you have left" was hard for me. I wrote multiple stories; hated each and every one. Then, finally, the night before I was to meet up with my writing friend, I wrote from my truth. Delved into my struggles with over-exercise. My knowledge that walking is not always a good thing, nor a gift. It can sometimes be torment.

So, without further ado...

~*~

I walk through streets of bloody leaves. Their pulsing so white hot, merely moving past them burns. Yet inside, beneath my skin, I'm freezing. A frigid cold; it scalds the very lining of my heart. 

They say each walk should be taken as if it is the only thing you have left. As I look back at the desiccated remains of my childhood, I have to wonder what fool ever saw fit to spew such nonsense.  

Because when your mind has stolen your freedom, has ripped away your poetry and reason, has encased each step with jail bars so impossible to break you would shatter your soul trying...walks become nightmares. A reminder of power lost, of joy destroyed. 

I no more own each step than I can grasp the whole of the wind and yank. 

I can only keep walking.

~*~*~