WOE: Freedom

She slipped out of bed and into the clothes laying out ready on the chair in the corner of the room in movements so fluid and easy that the first uncomfortable niggle starting signalling that this was some disturbing unreality to her mind.  The clothes were High Street smart, simple, ordinary work clothes.  Then she headed into the kitchen reaching the cereal down from the shelf and pouring the bottle of milk in those same fluid, easy movements.  She watched as if she was some other external being from this body that was apparently she, accepting the reality but still bemused.  She ate, browsing through a magazine, glancing at the clock.  She washed the bowl and spoon out in the clear and tidy sink then left them on the side to drain.  Her coat and bag were hanging ready on the hooks by the door and the shoes underneath were High street smart, black court shoes like millions of women wear every day.  She took the key down and unlocked the door. Time to go to work.  A day, a routine just like everyone else’s.  It would be a beautiful day.

Her subconscious was fully disturbed now and her conscious started to clamour too, causing her to shift painfully and rouse slightly, calling her back to reality.  A reality where there would be no going to work, where there would be no easy slipping on of ‘normal’ clothes.  A reality where there was only pain and limitation.  The tears smarted in the corners of her eyes as, now fully conscious, she realised the vicious trick that her subconscious had played on her, luring her, deceiving her.

It would have been a beautiful day in that reality.  A day of freedom.

She lifted herself carefully, resting automatically for a moment before stiffly swinging her legs out from under the covers and letting them rest carefully on the floor.  She sighed then chuckled.

‘Normal’ women would have got up and had a shower in the morning, spending time on their hair and makeup before heading out of the door.  Even her subconscious had forgotten what freedom was.

She sighed again.  Ah, freedom.  She missed it when she could remember it.

The dream left her morning tinged with bitterness as she slowly navigated the reality that made her a prisoner in her own body.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood


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24 thoughts on “WOE: Freedom

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  1. Hello just wanted to give you a quick heads up and let you know a few of the pictures aren’t loading correctly. I’m not sure why but I think its a linking issue. I’ve tried it in two different web browsers and both show the same outcome.

  2. I know this if off topic but I’m looking into starting my own weblog and was wondering what all is required to get setup? I’m assuming having a blog like yours would cost a pretty penny? I’m not very internet smart so I’m not 100% certain. Any suggestions or advice would be greatly appreciated. Kudos

  3. This is an amazing piece. I had no background so thought it may have been fiction – but following on from the other comments, I see now this is actually a very personal piece. No wonder you captured the moment so well.

    1. Ah, but you see that they are technically wrong. It is a fictional account (I never have such pleasant dreams!) although inspired by personal battles. Thank you very much for visiting and commenting. :)

  4. You are such a ray of sunshine in your comments on my pages that i forget that you struggle with things i just climb over.. you are a star honey! Go slow and keep going! Obviously there is a powerful horde of freedom in your head! c

    1. I have no idea how an eternal pessimist like myself can end up being ‘such a ray of sunshine’ but hey! I don’t know about freedom but I do have a stubborn streak. Thank you for your uplifting comment, for some reason I found you in the spam, I do apologise! Hope you’re feeling better. :)

  5. Ouch. That’s gorgeous. You don’t moralize at all, but you pain a picture of how distant ‘normal’ and ‘free’ are for you. Wishing you peace and comfort, wherever normal finds you. And just so your subconscious can feel better, I don’t wear make up, and I always showered the night before when I worked outside the home. So it didn’t get things wrong. I loved High Street Smart, by the way.

    1. I can’t wear synthetics so no High Street Smart for me now. I like how you’ve sussed that this is a personal piece, it’s probably because of all the other cheerful posts I’ve been turning out of late. Thank you so much. :)

  6. Hay. I’m stopping over from the RED link-up. This is such an interesting piece. I loved the slant you put on freedom. And, after reading this, you’ve left me asking lots of questions and wondering about this lady and what happened to her. It’s great!

    cait from notebooksisters.blogspot.com

  7. What a harsh wake up call! I can, to some extent, sympathize with her as I struggle to get out of bed some days being as pregnant as I am. At least mine is temporary whereas her doesn’t sound that way. Great job creating that tension!

I'd love to know what you think, concrit is especially welcomed on fiction pieces. Thank you.

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