The Route
The Route
By: Marsha K. Rodriguez
She was the smallest girl in school. The world seemed to tower over her. She buried her face in the comfort of a book. She pretended she was the protagonist: tall, strong and brave.
She didn't make friends. She didn't make enemies. Only those who sneered at her. Preying upon her insecurities as if she were a bag awaiting the impact of a punch.
She could relate to no one. Their words too bland; their actions too automatic. She neither envied nor pitied them.
She lived in the smallest town. Words of others traveled quickly along the wind to hungry ears and repeating lips.
She possessed an automated existence. An existence that road along the rails to the same destination as all the others.
She could not allow herself to follow the others; to live only for the moment of death. She had to find an alternate route.
She had read of other places. She had learned that the path of least resistance only leads to the rails of non-existence.
She felt terror creep inside her as she dreamed of a greater destiny. The preying automatic bodies with repeating lips would scorn her more.
She realized that no difference would that make. They will live. They will die. She will not live to die.
She drew the path out of the town. She picked up her quill and wrote it down. She finally merged with the text as she had so longed to do.
She wrote for days, never stopping to eat. The more she wrote, the more her inspiration grew. She created people and worlds yet in the end, it was them that created her.
She finished the last sentence, closed the book as she clenched it over her heart. She grabbed her coat and quill and boarded the plane.
She looked out the window as the clear clouds flew...it was in that moment she finally knew. She had escaped; had found her route. She would stand out from the group. She would be resisted and perhaps even die. But, at least she knew...she had given LIFE a try!
By: Marsha K. Rodriguez
She was the smallest girl in school. The world seemed to tower over her. She buried her face in the comfort of a book. She pretended she was the protagonist: tall, strong and brave.
She didn't make friends. She didn't make enemies. Only those who sneered at her. Preying upon her insecurities as if she were a bag awaiting the impact of a punch.
She could relate to no one. Their words too bland; their actions too automatic. She neither envied nor pitied them.
She lived in the smallest town. Words of others traveled quickly along the wind to hungry ears and repeating lips.
She possessed an automated existence. An existence that road along the rails to the same destination as all the others.
She could not allow herself to follow the others; to live only for the moment of death. She had to find an alternate route.
She had read of other places. She had learned that the path of least resistance only leads to the rails of non-existence.
She felt terror creep inside her as she dreamed of a greater destiny. The preying automatic bodies with repeating lips would scorn her more.
She realized that no difference would that make. They will live. They will die. She will not live to die.
She drew the path out of the town. She picked up her quill and wrote it down. She finally merged with the text as she had so longed to do.
She wrote for days, never stopping to eat. The more she wrote, the more her inspiration grew. She created people and worlds yet in the end, it was them that created her.
She finished the last sentence, closed the book as she clenched it over her heart. She grabbed her coat and quill and boarded the plane.
She looked out the window as the clear clouds flew...it was in that moment she finally knew. She had escaped; had found her route. She would stand out from the group. She would be resisted and perhaps even die. But, at least she knew...she had given LIFE a try!
Comments
Post a Comment