I`ve tried to symbolize what I think anxiety can feel like for some people...Like being locked up in a big, black and broken mansion...But yet, it is more safe than dealing with the daily life....
The hills stretches towards the grey sky, powerful and white, it almost seem that it wants to get as far away as possible from the frozen earth. This whole world. Among all the white, lies a building. It is big, black. Lies there like a hideous mansion, not fitting in among the trees at all. It has a lot of windows, but there isn't a light in a single one of them.
On the third floor, I sit. Staring out in nothingness. I don't actually live here, this isn't really my home. How I got here I don't know, I think I'm alone here. Even though sometimes I can swear that I hear other children. The sound of bicycle wheels scratching the linoleum. The weak laughter of children that knows they're doing something wrong. But it always ends before reaching my door, the sound. Inside my head it continues. I don't know if I like the thought about there being someone else here. That there can sit others just like me behind closed doors. Even though I have never been outside my door, I wouldn't dear. Not again.
There it is again, the children laughing. I can hear it outside in the narrow hall. It's getting closer now, each second, I can hear it. Then silence.
One time, a long time ago, I thought I could see a light through the keyhole. I decided to go look, almost put my face inside, I could feel my own warm breath. But there was nothing there, only darkness. Something broke inside me. After that, I've been sitting here, right on this spot looking out the window.
The fog has arrived, carried from distant lands whit the angels. It wraps the little lake in grey cotton. It has a thin layer of ice, I can see it from here. I close my eyes, feel the sharp cold air in my lunges. I'm standing on the water, my feet are naked. It's not cold.
With firm grips I float forward on the ice like summer clouds on blue sky. Hard ice against naked feet. But it's not cold. Everything is so clear and white, the black mansion is gone. I feel free, strong, don't even notice its non existence. Not before I open my eyes, steers out of the window in what feels like endless darkness.
I've been sitting here for a long time now, in this black mansion of anxiety. Who knows if I never let out. All I know is that it feels longer and longer between children's laughter, outside the fog is getting thicker, and this mansion seems to be getting bigger and darker every day.
The cold finds its way through broken walls, I'm freezing.
Short story by Evelyn
Read 540 times
Written on 2006-08-08 at 19:47
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This black mansion of anxiety
Midwinter. A naked tree against the pale winter sun, snow crystals falls like sugar.The hills stretches towards the grey sky, powerful and white, it almost seem that it wants to get as far away as possible from the frozen earth. This whole world. Among all the white, lies a building. It is big, black. Lies there like a hideous mansion, not fitting in among the trees at all. It has a lot of windows, but there isn't a light in a single one of them.
On the third floor, I sit. Staring out in nothingness. I don't actually live here, this isn't really my home. How I got here I don't know, I think I'm alone here. Even though sometimes I can swear that I hear other children. The sound of bicycle wheels scratching the linoleum. The weak laughter of children that knows they're doing something wrong. But it always ends before reaching my door, the sound. Inside my head it continues. I don't know if I like the thought about there being someone else here. That there can sit others just like me behind closed doors. Even though I have never been outside my door, I wouldn't dear. Not again.
There it is again, the children laughing. I can hear it outside in the narrow hall. It's getting closer now, each second, I can hear it. Then silence.
One time, a long time ago, I thought I could see a light through the keyhole. I decided to go look, almost put my face inside, I could feel my own warm breath. But there was nothing there, only darkness. Something broke inside me. After that, I've been sitting here, right on this spot looking out the window.
The fog has arrived, carried from distant lands whit the angels. It wraps the little lake in grey cotton. It has a thin layer of ice, I can see it from here. I close my eyes, feel the sharp cold air in my lunges. I'm standing on the water, my feet are naked. It's not cold.
With firm grips I float forward on the ice like summer clouds on blue sky. Hard ice against naked feet. But it's not cold. Everything is so clear and white, the black mansion is gone. I feel free, strong, don't even notice its non existence. Not before I open my eyes, steers out of the window in what feels like endless darkness.
I've been sitting here for a long time now, in this black mansion of anxiety. Who knows if I never let out. All I know is that it feels longer and longer between children's laughter, outside the fog is getting thicker, and this mansion seems to be getting bigger and darker every day.
The cold finds its way through broken walls, I'm freezing.
Short story by Evelyn
Read 540 times
Written on 2006-08-08 at 19:47
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Teala |
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Zachary P. B. |
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keith nunes |
| Texts |
by EvelynLatest textsMourning palaceMy friend of misery A tale begun Without visible sign War nerve |
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