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a memory wrapped its cold, rough hands around my throat, squeezing it tightly. as I tried to walk away, the memory stuck its foot out, blocking my path. I could only muster a pitiful squeak as I fell face first onto the ground, and the memory fell on top of me, effectively holding my body hostage. its hands were still on my throat, but it was invisible to everyone else. they only saw me fall to the ground. they asked me what was wrong, but I did not have air that could breathe life into the powerful words that were begging to leave my mind. a sheet of paper suddenly appeared underneath my right palm, and a pencil rolled my way. I gripped the sturdy pencil with every ounce of strength I still had, steadying the paper with my wrist, and I wrote the words I couldn't say so they would stop begging to leave, even as the memory gripped my throat. as I kept writing, I noticed the memory stopped feeling as heavy on my body. it was getting ****** into the paper. it resisted at first, but after a while, the memory slowly let go of me and relaxed into the pencil marks. when I had no more words left, I picked myself up off the ground, placed the pencil above my ear, took the paper, hugged it to my chest, and walked away with a smile on my face.
0
Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 12:39 AM UTC
the power of writing.
a memory wrapped its cold, rough hands around my throat, squeezing it tightly. as I tried to walk away, the memory stuck its foot out, blocking my path. I could only muster a pitiful squeak as I fell face first onto the ground, and the memory fell on top of me, effectively holding my body hostage. its hands were still on my throat, but it was invisible to everyone else. they only saw me fall to the ground. they asked me what was wrong, but I did not have air that could breathe life into the powerful words that were begging to leave my mind. a sheet of paper suddenly appeared underneath my right palm, and a pencil rolled my way. I gripped the sturdy pencil with every ounce of strength I still had, steadying the paper with my wrist, and I wrote the words I couldn't say so they would stop begging to leave, even as the memory gripped my throat. as I kept writing, I noticed the memory stopped feeling as heavy on my body. it was getting ****** into the paper. it resisted at first, but after a while, the memory slowly let go of me and relaxed into the pencil marks. when I had no more words left, I picked myself up off the ground, placed the pencil above my ear, took the paper, hugged it to my chest, and walked away with a smile on my face.
soulmusings
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Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 12:39 AM UTC
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