Wednesday 15 April 2015

Stuck - MWBB

I hadn't written for Mid-Week Blues-Buster for a while, and as I am judging the next one I will be missing another one too. I liked the song for this one even though there was already a clear story in the lyrics. I went with my emotions in response to it and didn't feel it was much of an actual story, just the suggestion of one, and probably why it didn't get noticed by the judge. But I liked it. Hope  you do.


The prompt song was:

“Through the Glass Darkly”, by Annie Lennox
Helena stepped out of her house, and felt their eyes on her. They followed her down the path and out onto the street. Even when she climbed into her car she could still feel them watch her as she pulled out and drove away. She wished she didn’t have to come back.

He would be home later, and it would be better. She hoped. She refused to acknowledge the voice that said she hoped every day but she was always let down.

She thought about just driving on and on, and not turning back. She ran through the scenario in her head. The reaction, the gossip, the chatter behind every door - the place would thrum with it. How she was a foreigner in their midst, she didn’t fit, she wasn’t good enough, they were better off rid of her - that he was better off rid of her.  But she always faltered when she thought of him, how he would feel, what it would do to him, how difficult it would be for him to continue without her, juggling it all, work, house, kids.

Kids. Helena took a deep breath and felt her foot come up off the accelerator as the frustration ebbed, churning in her stomach, turning into guilt.

Her mind spun, trying to find a focus point, trying to find a path that didn’t lead to a dead-end. She needed to find a way forward, a way to continue. It started with him and it ended with him.

She arrived at the supermarket and went through the motions, getting what was needed for them, to nourish them, to cherish them and keep it all together. Then she drove back, pushing down her feelings, refusing to allow any more mutinous thoughts to surface.

His car was there. He was home. On the one hand she was elated, but on the other she was afraid. She tolerated the curtain twitching, the eyes of the neighbourhood on her as she took in the shopping, and she smiled at him at the door, and he smiled back. But there was something missing, something tangible. He was there, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t been since they’d moved here – his home town. It was as though she had lost him in the move and he didn’t want to be found, even though he was standing right in front of her.

But had she lost him or had she lost herself? Helena let that thought echo round her mind as she prepared the evening meal and stared out the window at the tainted life around her which had once been filled with so much hope.

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