No Filter

Writing Short 7. Exactly what it says on the tin. Brain flowed and this came out. Apart from the odd fixing of grammar and adding of words here and there to help with flow, I'd say this is pretty much it. No filter. No crossing out or taking anything away. I'm hoping to write a few book reviews over the next few days. I've not really been on top of it all but I'm getting there... Too much reading, not enough reviewing and editing. So many great books out these days.

No Filter

From: http://rebloggy.com/post/photography-animals-trees-green-animal-dark-skull-fall-nature-forest-autumn-dead/68681318796

           The haunted, hated, echoing silence, cries; wallowing endlessly with no reply. She seeks help, something to drag her from her dark, deep, depths of sadness. She’s running, feet moving faster than her legs can carry her, faster than her brain will respond. The twigs creak, snap and crack under the weight of her urgency.

There must be someone to help her; eyes searching desperately for something, anything, to save her from this enveloping, all-encompassing end. The winter-bare branches scratch away at her face as she tries to get away. Her arms flail dramatically in front of her, shielding and protective. It knocks her off balance, her centre of gravity lost. She trips in slow motion, and a loud thud, to the floor. Scurrying, clawing, clambering away at the roots, rotting leaves and mud caked thickly over the floor.

She doesn’t know where she is. Nothing is familiar. No memories are evoked from this place; she just knows she needs to get out of here.

Her jeans are soaked, full of damp, freshly watered mud. The dirt clings to her trainers and her fingernails as she digs her toes and hands into the sludgy mess; trying to gain enough friction to pull herself to standing. Her hands claw at the chaos in front of her, searching desperately for something to aide her in her quest for freedom from this nightmare.

The blackness is following her, desperate to refuse her any sanctuary, and it encircles her; blocking any way out. All she can see is woods, thick branches, twigs, wet rain-sodden leaves, thick shoe-squelching mud; sucking the soles of her shoes from her feet.

Gaining momentum, she lunges herself from the floor; body now in full vertical position. Her head whips around, body following, a graceful ballet twirl; under different circumstances. She can see no-one. She stays stock-still, retrieving her balance and equilibrium, taking down a mental, less-distressed, note of her situation.

Besides the thumping of her heart, pounding in her ears; and her breath, deep and heavy, begging for serenity and calm before her lungs break her ribs, she can hear nothing. No birds, no animals or people chasing away.

She got away? 

No. It’s never been that easy. Yes, she’s outrun it this time, and sometimes the pills help. But, other days, it drags her in; and down, chanting phrases of worthlessness so deafening into her mind that she can’t get rid of them. Sometimes it’s just too exhausting to run from it; even after the pills give her a head-start, and she’s had a good day. There’s just no stopping the big, greying, dark fog taking over her mind. It controls all her senses, debilitates her and freezes her body away from doing anything productive. The sludge in her mind makes it almost impossible to move any of her limbs. They’re so heavily weighed down that even the small motion of eating and keeping herself alive and functional to the world outside her is exhausting.

If she pretends it’s not there, it doesn’t help. It won’t go away. It never does. Always present, laughing at her, mocking her useless defence systems every time it breaks them down. Brick by brick. Chain by chain, until she’s running. Falling. Tripping over the muck and mank in her life.

 There is no release.