Beyond the forest glen, the realisation struck her – Dead Deer

Beyond the forest glen, the realisation struck her

Waking slowly she took some time to recognise where she was. Maybe it would be more accurate to say she registered where she was; she did not recognise it. The soft dew lay all around, a crisp but bright morning. She was not cold (warm would be going a little far) rolled up in her clothes and bags. She shook her head. It was beating. She needed coffee. Sitting up but staying covered she reached for her tiny lightweight stove and fired it up. Relieved that she had been alert enough last night to fill a water bottle, she poured the water in and the coffee grains were also to hand. She was just a little concerned that she had no recollection of organised that or finding this spot to sleep – it was an ideal place, too. Secluded at the edge of a forest with a view across the gentle hills ahead.

Maybe it was just that she’d been on the road so long all this was automatic now.

Ah yes, a flashback. Last night. Drink and laughter. A lot of drink and laughter. No wonder she felt so awful, dry mouth, terrible stomach and all the tell tale signs of a hangover. Maybe rather more drink than laughter, it occurred to her. Now she was up and packing her few things away. Where was she? Which way to go?

She knew she was broadly heading east, so she struck off toward the rising sun. What had happened last night? How strange to have such little memory of it. More flashbacks.

Oh God, no! I didn’t did I? She was leaving the little forest when this realisation hit here. Oh God. Frantically she searched through her bags, her small one with the valuables, and the larger one (so large) with everything else. She turned everything out. Ripping at all the pockets and pulling out all she owned.

It was gone. How could she have been so foolish. She sobbed as she re-packed her bags. A light drizzle fell.

Today I wrote from 09:55 to 10:05. I was prompted by ideas here. My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, and my tweets here

A blanket, soft and warm, with just the faintest hint of her perfume – Dead Deer

Today I wrote from 20:13 to 20:23. I was prompted by ideas here. My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, and my tweets here

No real idea at all what I can do with this? The deliberate juxtaposition of the comforting opening with the sense of loss in the second half leaves me, well, lost. Again.

Once again I find myself with no options, stuck and defeated. By this prompt, as in life. What am I doing? Where am I going? Nowhere good, that is for sure. Clinging, clingy, needy and unneeded. What next? Accept I suppose. But it is this element of looming acceptance and clarity that has led me here.

The concept was bad, but when considering it more carefully, the actual reality of it, it is considerably worse than I first envisaged. So, I have agency. Accept it, live with it. Or I can choose what I want. I try. It seems that that choice is in fact closed; no it is open but I would lose, and end up in a worse situation than the one I cannot abide the thought of, the vision of.

I am in circles again, but it feels now more like a spiral. I have spiralled many times, of course, but downwards. Now it feels like it is spiralling outwards, ever outwards. Fifty percent? Twenty percent? Zero. Why? Why, why why should I tolerate this diminishing role.

Because I am, as I have always maintained, optionless, without agency, out-manoeuvred and continually manipulated. Kept in the dark, misled. Stuck. Lost and bewildered whilst all goes on around me, not by me but to me. And the constant imploring to take control, to form my own destiny is nothing but mocking laughter. Cahoots. They are all in cahoots. How can I move? How can I continue? Well, the same chorus tells me how;

“You just have to.”