After scratching my head for a while I decided to just start typing, anything at all that came to me and the result is beneath, here's hoping I don't tire of this project before the closing date! Mind you I have already told myself to treat this as a relaxed exercise, just to see what happens and this seems to be holding off the jitters and self doubt.
No title yet...should reveal itself in due course :)
Fight or flight response they
call it, that adrenalin fuelled moment of survival.
I have always felt that these moments betray our true selves,
revealing cowardice or courage depending
on the situation in question.
I ponder this as I crouch shakily against the cold tiles of public
toilet wall, heart pounding as if determined to be heard above the desperate
ragged breaths that rip through me continually.
As my breathing finally slows to
a manageable speed I uncurl myself so that I am sat on the dubious floor, and
looking down realise my shoes are gone.
I note this with only vague recognition then
regard the rest of my legs. One tawny stocking is furled pathetically around my
left ankle and my big toe appears to bleeding, a plaintive patch of rust red is
seeping into the sheer fabric.
A violent burst of nausea takes
me, and I begin to crawl towards the cubicle, away from the mildewed wall. As I
retch I close my eyes and imagine that every heave will somehow undo what has
happened, erase it and leave me cleansed.
Instead I vomit a small amount of bile and dry
heave for what seems like an eternity, feeling more wretched with each painful
undulation.
Thats it for now, 207 words of 2200 done. But lets not word count (she says pointedly to herself) going to let it breathe awhile and return tomorrow!
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