What is this? Who wrote this?

I'm at the point now that I've written enough short stories, articles and other writing projects that there are things I don't remember writing! I came across this little diddy and still can't figure out why I wrote it. After revising it slightly, I remember writing parts of it, but it's all a blur. I have no idea where this came from...do you know what I mean?

Title? If I posted this early on in my blog days, forgive me...I can't remember ;) I think I wrote that already, right? See what happens when you approach 40? Enough stalling...here goes...


The tall, wet grasses brush against my old cotton sweats as I run, slipping and sliding on the slippery trail. Branches from large old trees bend and twist as I make my way alongside the stream, which is partially frozen with water still flowing. The scene of the stream, the glistening trees and squirrels scattering as I press forward should comfort me. I yearn for peace. I race to find it. Instead, strands of cobwebs fill a deep empty abyss that should be a normal functioning brain. Lead weights attach to my eyelids. I stop running and wipe beads of sweat off of my forehead. I close my eyes and take a deep breath filling my sore lungs with sweet, fresh air, exhaling to the point of a sigh.

Why can’t I escape my body and rise high above the trees to the heavens and leave this pain behind? I wonder. And, I want to continue my run. I want to scream-the kind that hurts your throat and takes your breath away. Instead, with heavy tight shoulders, I fall to the hard, icy ground. I sit in a pile of coldness and look at the whiteness and wonder how it can appear so bright when all I really see is a blackness that won’t go away.

An imaginary mass of misery and darkness swirls above, through me and finally rests on my shoulders. I can’t touch it, but sense its long, sharp teeth ready to devour me like the big bad wolf in an old nursery rhyme, which actually reminds me of another time and place-my youth and happiness, now a thing of the past. The powerful pull of restlessness takes over. A single tear falls down my face. No more will follow. Tears won’t take it away. I know.

This thing of unrest and heaviness consumes my thoughts. I want to grab and shake this endless stream of emptiness and loneliness. I want to place this crazy ball of destruction into a sling, fling it over my head and watch it sail.

I stand and spin round and round, hold my head and yell, “Move on! You can’t have me. I have so much to do.” Only silence follows. This is all too familiar.

Little gray and white sparrows flutter in the trees and bushes next to me and somehow, I know the cloud of gloom will not pass until it has dumped its ugly contents on me. I shudder and feel goose bumps rise and scatter across my skin. I sigh and remember I’ve run into the forest near my home and know much time has past as I see the moonlight peaking through the snowy twigs. I notice puffs of my breath steaming the air around me.

A light crunching sound behind me, my whole body stiffens. I hold my place, too afraid to move. And, suddenly I see them. A wide-eyed doe and her fawn stand motionless about fifty yards and stare at me. The burden once weighing on my shoulders has been lifted. Once again, I remember what peace feels like, if only for a brief moment in time.

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