Roots

 

 

She spent seven years looking for an anchor. That’s what everyone said she needed. A partner who could ground her, keep her rational, responsible, sensible. Keep her from herself.

She found him and attached herself to his sanity. His kindness soothed, his composure balanced. He tethered her to this world like a kite string. Often, she thought of him when she gardened, digging her hands into the soil, marveling at thin strands stretching, reaching down to set themselves. She daydreamed about roots reaching up. Why not? Into possibility? Into open sky where they might breathe? No, the fragile flowers grabbed earth and wrapped around and held so tightly that it took great force to rip them out. Like the plants, she lived because she was smothered.

Yes, he tethered her—and that is the only way she existed at all.

She could have been as happy as her mind was capable of letting her be. That is when temptation decided to push its way into her pretty life. It shone not like the soft streaks of sunlight through tree branches, but like a flashlight—its beam bright and unforgiving. It exposed her, the delicate ribbon tying her to him morphed into a thick chain. A leash.

She wouldn’t be a dog, even a beloved one. She was a bird and needed to fly. Wiping her palms on her jeans, she picked up dirt-caked shears, cut the cord, and walked away. Away from the home, the computer, the garden, and him. Away from the dust of the place where she had established respectable roots to a place where her thirst for what she wasn’t supposed to want could be satiated. Because what she needed wasn’t an anchor, but an oasis.

 

 

#Blogbattle is a weekly writing prompt for flash/short stories hosted by Rachael Ritchey 

Week 23 Prompt: Oasis

P.S. Thanks to Blondewritemore for alerting me to this fantabulous writing challenge. Cheers!