ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
46 year old wife and mother who is trying to put her past behind her. [July 2006]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (13) Alien Within (Poetry) What comes with self examination. [15 words] Angel Of Death (Non-Fiction) A corrupted childhood contaminates the present-writing purges, but just slightly...*Caution, could be considered graphic* [706 words] [Horror] Dark Anger (Short Stories) A follow up, sort of, to Darkest Fairytale, sort of. [815 words] Darkest Fairytale (Short Stories) A story written out of the depths of confusion so it's a bit confusing to follow. *Could be considered graphic* [1,571 words] [Drama] Ending (Poetry) Just a few questions I asked once upon a time ago... [21 words] God's Retribution (Short Stories) A follow on story written in early January. God is displeased and one child suffers the consequence. [425 words] [Spiritual] Remember...Do You Remember? (Genres) A long prose that asks tough personal questions which require deep internal self-examination to find the answers...if answers can be found. [271 words] [Mind] Seeking God (Short Stories) This story was written in December when a vision of the god from my childhood came crashing into my present. [767 words] [Spiritual] Taken Fetus (Non-Fiction) Ripped from within her. [697 words] Tempest: Calming The Storm (Short Stories) Inner turmoil ... can it be calmed? *Caution, could be graphic* [771 words] The Frustrating Switch (Short Stories) What happens when stress takes me beyond the breaking point? This is glimpse into my world... [667 words] [Psychology] Washed In The Blood (Short Stories) During a particularly depressing time and trying to find a way to cleanse myself of shame...well this story came to be. *Caution, could be graphic.* [631 words] When I Was Eight (Genres) A long three part prose about a dark desert night when a child was scared into submission. [501 words]
Escaping Reality Monica L Sprague
Part One
The loss is overwhelming though she doesn’t recognize the loss as being the reason that she feels so chaotic and out of control-hasn’t calculated all that is lost to her, all that’s gone. Her move to Virginia just over nine years ago, leaving Dr. Margee behind; the death of her father-in-law nearly seven years ago; her mother just four years ago; and now Kathleen, her therapist of nearly ten years and which appears to be the most traumatic.
aside:
the therapeutic relationship is extremely complex and difficult to explain. imagine that the client is a raw egg; the therapist is the master chef. carefully the therapist takes the egg, gently shaking it-to see if something’s deep inside. the shell is hard, but not impenetrable, the therapist must be gentle as she builds trust (which is like a fine thread of web-once broken, it can never be repaired). cracking the shell, the egg is placed in a bowl to be examined and evaluated. the client, feeling raw, exposed and scrutinized scrambles the egg so that there are no discernable parts. as the therapist works with the client, there are words of wisdom- salt and seasoned insight to accomplish great goals-pepper. sometimes the therapist plops a tomato or two but the client can keep what’s needed and pluck out the rest. spices liven up the relationship and cheese glues it all together, then tossed into the frying pan to work things through. the end result is no longer a raw, exposed egg but an amazing change that is tastefully and wonderfully unique. the egg is new and refreshing. however, just as the scrambled egg cannot be placed back into the shell, the client cannot go back to what was before. the change is complete and magnificent.
end aside.
She left the office of Dr. Sarah in tears, crying bitterly as she sat in the car thinking of all the ways Sarah isn’t Kathleen. She felt lost and out of control; she immediately thought to call Kathleen but the heaviness of realization sunk in - I can’t…ever again, she thought dramatically. She cried hard desperate tears for another few minutes before leaving the parking space.
I can’t take this, she continued crying unabashedly, I’ve got to get away from this, get away from here she thought. Her thinking steered her course, guiding her direction south on Warwick, east onto Bland and to the airport, to escape. She thought slowly that Boston sounded particularly appealing. Her head pounded as she entered the terminal, she fumbled in her purse and found the pill bottle-fifteen Advil and one Concerta tablet. She took all the Advil, after all her head ache was killer…
Part Two
Slowly she began to emerge from what felt like a fog. She groggily opened her eyes and peered up at the ceiling. “Fudgesicles, I’m at the church!” she thought angrily. She attempted to focus on the ceiling fans whirring high over her head. She raised slightly, caught sight of the bell tables set up and the sunshine streaming through the window of the door. She tried to rise but dizziness took her and she lay back down upon the pew. “Crumb, I bet I didn’t even make it to Boston!” She lay quietly listening for a moment-the sounds of the construction crew cleaning up their equipment came floating into her consciousness as well as the sound of the traffic hurrying by on Mercury. She looked at her watch-2:40? Is that what is says? She rose carefully, found her shoes on the pew near where her head had just lain and put them on. The sanctuary was cool-Adam must have turned on the air for the bell choir tonight. She wandered all through the entire church-alone, totally…nobody else in the whole building.
She found her car in the parking lot by the fellowship hall, her keys in her pocket. She got in the car and left the parking lot, the gas gauge dinged three times. “Darn, need gas…don’t know what to do-don’t want to go home, don’t want to do anything, and don’t want to face any one…” She got to Fox Hill and swung into the left turn lane. When the light changed she turned left onto Cherry Acres, toward Crystal’s house. She pulled into the driveway of the home of her best friend in the entire world, tears streaming down her face again. She sat in the car, debating within herself, finally deciding to go in and be stupid with company rather alone. Suddenly, just as she reached for the door handle, a giant bumble bee smacked against the drivers side window. She startled and looked about her seeing another large bumble bee and another. The front yard was thick with the things. Panic set in, she hated bugs but especially flying stinging bugs. She started the engine and left the driveway.
I don’t want to go home, don’t want to deal with this…I don’t have the energy any longer, I’m so tired of trying-to tired to carry on. She pulled into the motel parking lot and got a room. Walking up to the 7-11 a short distance away, she bought a Slurpee and a package of razors and then returned to the room. I can’t live this out of control any longer but Crystal is wrong, I can run away it. She took the razor and pulled it across her wrist-sharp and quick it bit the flesh and separated the skin underneath. She dragged the blade across her wrist again and again. Taking a long sip of the Slurpee, she turned to the other arm. “Now I’ll find peace” she whispered to herself. She sliced into her other wrist-once, twice, three times for good measure. Dropping the razor, she lay on the bed letting her life force slowly seep from her wrists. I wonder how long, she thought, before sleep overtakes me and I find rest…
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