This is a stream of conciousness piece, totally unplanned. Just what came into my head as I wrote. It is unedited. (Just typos corrected. I make a lot of those.) For today’s Daily Prompt: Ready. Set, Done.


Heartbeat. Breathing.

These things I was aware of.

Softness beneath me. The air warm. I sniffed. Something good cooking somewhere.

My eyes opened and light hit them, filtering in a gentle wave through closed curtains.

Morning. Breakfast.

I held my hand up in front of my face and and rubbed at my eyes. They were grainy. A little sore.

Sounds filtered through along with the smells. A toaster popped. Fridge door opening. So familiar. Comforting.

and they didn’t fill me with dread.

A stark realisation that.

I sat up and covers fell from me in a wave of cloth. I was warm. Comfortable. The sun lit the room wtih a summery brightness that I loved.

Happiness. So hard won.

Humming started, drifting through from the kitchen, down the hallway, into the bedroom. A tune I recognised. A voice I loved. Soft, yet deep and resonant.

My feet found the carpeted floor and I stood in a patch of sunlight. The curtains slid open with a gentle hiss of the rail, and the morning truly shone. The traffic below was a distant buzz. People looked like ants.

I liked living this high up. My little bubble.

I touched the glass. Warm.

But despite this, despite all the love and warmth of the summery morning, coldness touched my heart as a memory, unwanted, unbidden flashed trough my mind. The last time I’d stood at this window? Had I stood there since? I couldn’t remember.

But that time. It had been open, the ground below so far away and yet so close, beckoning, calling…

“Breakfast’s ready,” her soft voice called out, still half in singing mode.

The memory disappeared as quickly as it had come. I turned to call back, even though I knew she couldn’t see me. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

“I’ve got eggs. Don’t be long.”

Stomach rumbling. Hunger. Good to feel. Good to want to eat. To experience the tastes and textures and smile across the table at her without faking anything.

My hand pulled away from the glass and I walked around the bed to the door.

The darkness followed me. I could feel it like a shadow at my back. Small, but there.

Even the summer sun couldn’t completely banish it.

Someday, maybe, it would fade into nothingness. Maybe. Unfed. Unwanted.



2 thoughts on “Shadows

  1. The rhythm was a surprise to me. I don’t usually write that way. It’s amazing what comes out when you’re just writing and not really consciously thinking.

    Thank you for the comments. 🙂


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