Wednesday, 7 February 2018

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 41

This picture was created by Ana Prazeres or Aegils, a Portugese artist. You can find her work on Deviant Art and also on 500px. She has some incredible creations. She calls this one 'The Craft' - which offers a story in itself.

I looked at this picture and saw chaos. And for me the biggest type of chaos is that of the mind. So that is what I focused on. This one poured out easily, but I need to provide a TRIGGER WARNING for suicide/suicidal thinking.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.




Chaos & Paranoia

You know she doesn’t like you; that’s why she moved away.
Not it wasn’t, it was to talk to the new girl at the other table.
Sure that’s what you’d like to think, isn’t it? They think you talk too much.
They’ve never really liked me.
No they haven’t.
Did you see that look she gave her friend, that roll of the eyes?
I know, they don’t like anything you say. They don’t like you.
They’re a clique.
Yes, and you are sitting on the outside of it.
I don’t want to be in it.
Yes you do, otherwise you wouldn’t feel so sick.
It doesn’t matter though because I won’t be here long.
Ha, that’s what you told yourself ten years ago.
I’m not going to be here for the rest of my life, no way.
Sure, and what are you doing about that? A big fat nothing.
There’s nothing I can do about it. I haven’t got the money.
You could find it if you wanted to.
It’s not that easy.
You don’t really want to do anything about it; it’s too much effort.
It’s all too much effort. I don’t want to see any of these people anymore.
Then who are you going to see?
No one.
You wouldn’t survive being a recluse; it would kill you to be alone every single day.
I’d be better off dead.
Yes, you would, and no one would miss you.
They all pretend they’re friends, but they aren’t really. It’s just fake. They were all relieved when I left.
What do you think they’d say if they found out you’d topped yourself?
Would it matter? I would be dead and wouldn’t be here anymore.
Do you think they would feel guilty? Or would they think you were selfish?
They already think I’m selfish.
Did you hear her make that dig about how people are bad listeners; it was directed at you.
I don’t want to be here anymore.
How are you going to get out?
Where am I going to get the money from to get out?
You don’t have any skills. You don’t bring any value to anyone.
And where would I go to?
It’ll be the same everywhere you go.
There is only one way out.

Larissa’s mind whorled as she left the drinks night, her mind buzzing with the chaotic noise of her inner voices, their conversation rushing through her head as though she’d pressed fast forward. By the time she’d reached her car, they were debating whether or not to go home.

They’ll be asleep.
They won’t know you’ve gone.
They wouldn’t notice until the morning.
It would be over by then.
They’d be too late.
It would be simple, so simple.
And painless, don’t forget that.
It might take them a couple of days to find out.
The police would eventually find the car parked up.
Maybe dust and sand on it after the days it’d been sitting there with parking tickets piling up.
The phone call to say they’d found it.
The police at the door.
It wouldn’t be fair, it just wouldn’t.
Their little faces.
They’d blame themselves.
It would affect the rest of their lives.
They need you.

Larissa held back tears as she turned the key in the lock, sparking the car into life. She had to stop this; she had to get the voices under control. She had to stop them escalating. She sighed. It took all her strength to keep her head above water, to keep holding on. She wanted to stay social, but it killed her. She didn’t trust any of them.

She wished a door would open; she wished she could step through into a bright new world where she could escape from the chaos of her mind and the emptiness of her life; where no one knew her or pre-judged her, where she was valued and needed and appreciated. Was it really so much to ask?

By the time she reached home she’d brought the noise down to a background babble. The house was dark, just the small lights left on for her to see by. She checked on the kids, smiling at their tiny snores, and climbed in next to the big snorer– her husband.

She knew she had to find a way out, but it had to be a way that worked for everyone, not just her. Larissa lulled herself to sleep with visions of what that might be. 




6 comments :

  1. I have another real short one, a horror story this time, called Chain of Dreams.

    It seems that sleeping plays a big part in my story, too!

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    1. Intriguing premise, wonder where it ends. Thanks for joining in.

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  2. Just don't ask me where this came from. Godz, I need a drink...

    Raine Took Liliana Home

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    1. It's a great tale Mark, thank for joining.

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  3. I told you there was more than one story in that picture.

    She Set The Sky On Fire

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    Replies
    1. Another excellent piece. Really perfect.

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