A/N:I am doing the Writing 101- Blogging University through Daily Post and this Day 1. I will place the pic on each piece that has to do with this challenge just to separate them out. This was just writing a stream of consciousness for 20 minutes.
It is only the beginning. Those were the words carved above the doors, on the sidewalk and all around the house. It is only the beginning were words I had heard for half of my life. Half of my life where I could remember words and put them together into some conscious thought.
I always heard the words and felt a wave of excitement explode through me. Even when the words didn’t actually have any real effect on me personally. A new band would pronounce it was only the beginning after their first major public appearance. A political group would shout the slogan as they waved their banners after they won their first major fight.
I heard the words and got so excited for them. I got antsy and wanted to know what was coming next. When nothing happened it sucked but I walked away with a shrug. It wasn’t meant to be, I always thought.
Now those words are mine and I’m not sure what to do with them. Now they seem like so much more than words. They are glaring and bright and I find myself trying to figure out how to shield my eyes. Where are my sunglasses? My hat? A wall or cloud or tree to block out that glaring spotlight.
The path stretches out and I can’t move. This is the beginning but it also could be the very end. What if it is everything at once? Then what? What am I supposed to do if my beginning is nothing, like so many that have gone before me.
My feet inch forward and a shove to my back almost makes me fall to my knees. I look behind me but there is no one there. I inch forward and feel another heavy push. This time I hit the ground with a cry. What is going on?
I brush off and get back to my feet. I try to inch backwards but I can’t. It is like I hit a wall. I can’t push past whatever is standing there.
I don’t move, terror inching up my neck and stealing its way through my veins. My breath comes in short bursts and I try to not cry but the tears have a will all their own. I sob and clutch my chest. I shake and find myself on the ground once again.
I can’t go back and don’t know how to go forward. Maybe I can just sit here and the world will let me alone. I will waste away and be gone but that is fine, it is safe. Safe is good. Safe is comfortable. Safe is safe.
But as I sit and shake and rock I feel that shove on my back again. I tilt forward but don’t move very much. It pushed harder the next time, almost tipping me over.
“No,” I cry out. “Please no. Leave me alone.”
“Can’t,” the voice is a whisper in my ear. One I have heard before. One I’ve taken comfort in and screamed at the top of my lungs at in an argument. One I can trust.
I get up, arms still wrapped around myself. Trying to hold myself together as best as I can. The shove is not a shove this time, it is more a gentle nudge.
My feet move slowly, one sliding in front of the other. Inch by inch I move forward, that soft push always at my back. Slowly my pace increases form a shuffle to a walk, to a speed-walk. My arms uncurl from my body and swing swiftly at my sides.
My eyes remain trained on my path, watching the ground to avoid any stones or pitfalls. Never looking around, just moving.
I stumble over nothing and slam into the pavement. The touch isn’t there. There is no voice, no help. I lay on the ground, trying to decide if getting up is worth it. I pull my eyes from the path and look to my right. The grass is so green, green from pictures and paintings. This is the grass of Eden.
I sit up and look up. Not a cloud to be mar the sky. Just blue that stretches for ages and ages. I find myself lost in its grandeur. I look down, flowers bloom in clusters. Drops of color over the ground. Like drops of paint falling to the ground. I giggle as I imagine a giant painting this picture.
I get up without looking ahead. Now I walk without looking at the ground. I walk without watching my feet. Sure I’ll probably end up on my face again but then I can see the vibrant beautiful grass up close again. I can see the lines and marks that make them up and I will smile.