On the Journey

Denise’s prompt this week is “JOURNEY”—do visit her to read fabulous posts, and quotations that make you ponder.Ā  Write a 6-Sentence Story, you’ll be hooked—join us! šŸ™‚Ā  Link:Ā  https://girlieontheedge1.wordpress.com/2021/03/10/its-six-sentence-story-thursday-link-up-150/


And so she left her personal Egypt, the familiar bondage she’d been born into; (they were rescued, her mother’s face begged her to accept)—led from a harsh, predictable enslavement to who-knew-where.

Life was day-and-night wilderness, and crowded camp of strangers (some related to her) who stared as though she differed from them in unfathomable ways; wellshe was different…from birth, invisibly marked an outcast, a scapegoat; (but her late grandmother had whispered that she was marked, yes—for blessedĀ purpose).

A milk-and-honeyed ‘promised land’, she’d overheard…that was their destination; so, why did the journey feel as intimidating and oppressive as the home she’d left…not quite frightening, yet cast in pallor of anxious dread?

One man was the same as the next (grim, formidable, to be obeyed not crossed); and the women, without variation—standing back submissively, muted gray powerlessness glazing their eyes; all liars, the lot of them—there was no future, it was gilded denial, a useless mantra to push them into anotherĀ wilderness ahead.

A scouting expedition had brought mixed reports—some enthused about the peculiar abundance discovered: grape clusters twice the size of average men’s heads, and more lush fruit varieties; but most scouts were terrified—there would be battles before bounty; rumors murmured there was a split…some might turn back, or go their own direction.

She lay in the tent, pondering…her brothers were favored ones, joyful adventurers high on aerated speculations about something called a covenant promise; unmarried, she’d still and ever be a slave…barring a miracle, a genuine Savior.

Ā©Zelda Rene, 2021 ~ All rights reserved.

In Theory…

Denise’s prompt:  THEORY

In theory, most people reach an age of maturity when they can measure and appreciate what’s reasonable, realistic—as opposed to what is not—and act accordingly.

Not her…she’d nursed the fantasy since childhood, and at thirty-five, by gum she was going to make it come true regardless that it was unmitigatedly insane (such is denial’s power).

She had no money, yet magically a credit card with an audacious available credit limit appeared in her hand; soon she was on a plane, then briefly settled in a hotel room, and next, riding in a taxi to the luxurious address where the ageing love of her life resided…in a “whole nuther world”.

‘Hard to believe’, she thought…no locked gates or guard dogs…the lone security employee smiled her way as though any attractive professional-appearing young woman, wearing tasteful floral dress and carrying black leather briefcase, had authorized access.

Neither was there keypad to punch in a code—she just walked in and made the mile-long, trembling-knees trek to the end of the plush-carpeted corridor where “his” elegant door to the corner suite was located; as she pressed the button which elicited melodious chimes, and waited…boulder of revelation finally crashed upon her that this journey, for all its suspect simplicity, was likely a very bad idea, would not end well but calamitously—inside her head she screamed, “why didn’t someone, something stop me??!!”

He spoke to her through the closed door, pretending he was a servant who’d relay her message—(fool! she’d have recognized his well-modulated voice even if she were deaf); he kindly directed her to leave her gifts out in the hall, and in that same beloved voice politely sent her away—her voluminous letters had meant nothing, she meant nothing to him.

Ā©Zelda Rene, 2021 ~ All rights reserved.