They said I was mad and sent me away to live in isolation at the edge of the forest.
I had no friends, no daily interactions, no love from another human. The loneliness sucked at my soul until I learned to sit and sense the movement of the forest around my stillness.
I watched the graceful spiral of leaves, dancing and twirling on the whim of a breeze. I heard the harmony of the forest stream, chanting and chiming through its bed of stones. I felt the gentle kiss of wind and snow on my face, wafting and whirling from above.
In the winter, the snow drifted down in silent flurries, muting the forest melody with its heavy insulation that crunched and creaked underfoot. In the spring, the snow thawed and froze in newly formed rivulets, while sweet lullabies of rebirth were tweeted from newly budded limbs. In the summer, the living creatures filled the air with raucous noise, while enchanting scents floated on the sultry current of a summer storm. In the fall, the birds left in chattering flocks, leaving a wake of silence, as the trees shed their adornments, preparing once again for restful slumber.
They said I was mad and sent me away but in the rhythm of change I found peace. My madness was sanity after all.
I now have 10 followers!!! Ok. One of them is me… not sure if I did that or it’s automatic but I like me so I guess it’s all good. 🙂
Anyway, just a quick post to thank everyone who had come here hit a like, left a comment and maybe even followed me. It took a long time to have the courage to put my writing out into the world so it means a lot to be acknowledged.
And hey, if you feel like being social say hi and introduce yourself in the comments. I’ll totally respond.
It’s not like people don’t die where I work.
They do. Death is just a part of the deal when you work here. In fact, just
last week two people died. I mean, someone had to go out into the fire fields
and turn the release valves and Justin drew the short straw. Unfortunately, he
panicked and spent his last few breaths banging on the door and crying instead
of completing his task, which meant we had to subsequently send Bertha out to finish
the job. It was a complete waste and frankly, it will continue to affect morale
because Bertha made the best (I mean, hands down, the absolute B-E-S-T)
birthday cakes with buttercream frosting for everyone’s birthdays and Flora’s
crappy fruit cakes are not going to cut it.
I sigh heavily as I write up my report. Fucking Justin. He cost me a month of paperwork. He was always complaining too, “Maybe we should find another way to release the pipe pressures” or “Did you read my proposal about alternative fuel we could use to make the fire fields obsolete?” or my favorite, “It doesn’t have to be anyone’s turn. I could fix it if you just…” He didn’t finish that one because Joe slammed the airlock door right in his annoying, whiny face. Thank God. Complainers… Am I right?
Anywho, now there’s a lot of paperwork to do because some cranky bitch from HR is all worked up about our decreased safety record and feels it’s “inappropriate to sacrifice trained employees even to ensure the safety of the colony” and we should “consider using untrained labor or heroic volunteers to reduce the cost of constant retraining” or whatever. Ugh! All this and all I’ve had to eat today is Flora’s stale fruit cake.
The warning alarm goes off interrupting my
internal tirade. One by one we file to the front of the room to draw a straw
from the dispenser. People look nervous, but management always puts on a brave
face. Mostly, because we know the system is rigged in our favor. Who’s to know
when we are the only ones who have been here more than five years?
Except… I reach my hand in and pull out what
is undoubtably the shortest straw. “That’s impossible, it’s n-,“ I stutter but
Joe pulls me into his office before I can finish my sentence.
“Sorry, Steve.” He smiles his most personable
smile. “The higher ups are complaining about your performance. It’s your turn
I want to respond but my blood has turned to
ice while my feet have cemented themselves to the floor. “No worries,” Says Joe
pushing me towards the airlock, “You’ll remember what to do once you’re in the
fields. The training will kick in.”
“But… But…” I stammer as he closes the door
with a final wink waving jauntily.