BEATING WALLS

 

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I kept trying to hold on.

The rope was slipping through my fingers. The length from me to the truck was growing.  My feet were planted but I was still being dragged.  There were two long trenches behind me.  Evidence of how hard I tried.

I am not sure how I got here.

Just this morning I had opened my eyes to the underside of a canopy of trees.  I was wearing flip flops and a Mickey Mouse nightshirt that barely covered my thighs.  Dead leaves were tangled in my hair and my knees and elbows were sore.  Dried blood had matted my lips shut.  My eyelids felt gigantic and were numb to the touch.

I was still for nearly an hour trying to recall the moments that lead up to me lying half hidden in a swath of trees. It was sunrise so the only noise I heard came from the beaks of birds. No sounds of people anywhere.  I finally moved when I felt a huge ant walking through the hairs on my arm.

Sitting up made my head swim.  Trying to regain my equilibrium I cradled my face in my hands and it was when I pulled my hands away I saw the message.  Written in the palm of my hand in small petite cursive letters was a question.

WHOSE FISTS HAVE BEEN BEATING ON YOUR WALLS?

I rubbed the message with my index finger and it stung.  It had been burned into the surface of my skin.  I didn’t know who I was or where I had come from.  I did not know how to answer the question or why I would need to.

I stood slowly and began to walk.  Which direction?  Any direction would do.  Just walk.

I happened upon a group of people who just stopped to stare at me.  They were statues.  Deaf to my pleas for help and blind to my agony.  Desperation came and went and I moved on.  Through the motionless people with jaws dropped.  Through the eyes coated with soot.

I eventually found a small town.  Beautiful cottage buildings a multitude of colors.  Horses tied up here and there.  A narrow dirt road right down the center of the town.  I walked the road and realized I was thirsty.  All the signs said CLOSED.  The horses were everywhere but there were no people.  I drank from the horse trough and thanked the horse that was tied there.

The cottage lead into a wide open field where I sat and rested for awhile.  It smelled of lavender and felt peaceful until large birds began to circle above.  Screaming.

WHOSE FISTS HAVE BEEN BEATING ON YOUR WALLS?

I felt like crying.  It was like a burning stone in my throat I couldn’t dislodge.

I stood and began to walk when I noticed something glistening up ahead.  Something shiny reflecting the sun.  Keys.  I picked up the keys and continued on.  I could hear children crying somewhere nearby.

Just up ahead, hidden by the height of the lavender, was a crater. It was the size of 40 football fields and seemed to contain the crying children.

A truck was parked about 30 feet from me. Its engine revving but nobody was in the cab. The truck was so rusty only hints of blue remained of its original color. It was rolling slowly towards the edge. I had to stop it before it plunged into the crying children.

I realized the keys were no longer in my hand. I looked to the truck again and I saw myself sitting in the cab trying to hit the brake. I ran to the rear of the truck to try to help my other self.  There was a rope tied to the tailgate and dragging the ground.

I was pulling but it wasn’t doing anything. The forward motion was burying my flip flopped feet into lavender sand. I had no traction. I dropped the rope and ran to the edge of the crater. The screaming children was a lake of cats. I was about to risk my life for a bunch of trapped cats.

I ran back to the truck and untied the rope as it slowly rolled toward the edge. I threw the rope into the hole and one by one the cats turned into monkeys and climbed out of the pit. They all stood watching as each monkey found safety next to me.

The truck stopped and my other self got out of the truck and handed me the keys. She smiled and then said,

WHOSE FISTS HAVE BEEN BEETING ON YOUR WALLS.

Just then every monkey began pounding its chest. And one by one each monkey morphed into a different version of me. All of them pounding their chest.

I looked at my other self and she said.

STOP BEATING YOURSELF UP

 

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