The River "Freedom" Cannot Go Back
(whatever the cost)
As she walks with her dog, she decides to take a new path, for a change.
All her thinking is around her life and the reconstruction time that has rung the bell two years ago. Hard decisions have brought changes inside and outside.
Of course, a cost had come -as always- with the profit.
But the profit's name was Freedom. Freedom of being herself.
, her eyes catch a tree that has raised sidewalk slabs and a bit of asphalt with its roots, within a radius of two square meters. The roots have risen so high that if you wanted to pass near the tree, your knee should form a ninety-degree angle.
"How could these roots go back in? What hand or machine could bury them again under the sidewalk? It can't be . Not because they have smelled the air of freedom over the plates, but also because they have seen that they actually can break them", she thought.
And like that, her fear that the high cost she pays for her freedom would bend her someday, vanished.
About the Creator
Anthi Psomiadou
Writing, Life coaching, Criminology, and more. But I simply do these, I am not these. I just am. I am what I am, at any given moment.
Keep reading
More stories from Anthi Psomiadou and writers in Poets and other communities.
In The Arms Of Silence
, When grief grows and acts in her chest, when the surroundings becomes suffocating, a redemptive capacity emerges from within; the ability to focus on the silence, on the quietness next to the noise, on the non-sound that hovering alongside the sound.
By Anthi Psomiadou4 years ago in Poets
TICK TOCK
11.59. Even though the glass had shattered, Lorna could still see that her watch ticked over. One minute until midnight. Her watch was the only thing she had that she could carry. The only thing to remember her parents by. A birthday present from last year, the year she turned seventeen.
By Elizabeth Butler4 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.