Have you ever thought of screaming “FIRE” in a crowded theatre?
I’m back for this week’s prompt, after being away on vacation last week.
She wanders, aimless, through a huge crowd of preoccupied people, all focused on their own troubles.
She can’t say she entirely blames them for this. She is doing the same.
She feels her smallness in all their size. She feels bodies shoving her, this way and that, like a vessel being tossed about on a restless sea.
When will it end? What will it take?
Invisible is she, though she exists like the rest. Her desire to be heard and seen battles with her need to be left alone, to hide away from all of them.
The urge to jump, step, fly from the subway platform.
The fleeting thought when standing at the railing, at a waterfall, bridge, or river’s edge.
Who would notice? Invisible is freeing.
When she screams in that theatre, for someone to notice the flames, does anybody actually look away from the action going on on the screen in front of them?
As she ambles through the crowd, out somewhere, but still in a sea of bodies – who sees her amongst themselves?
I hesitated to write this the way I wrote it, with the terrible events having taken place in a movie theatre in Louisiana, but I wanted to grab my own attention to the helplessness of life, if nobody else’s.
I simply read the prompt for this last SoCS in July:
We can’t even go to school or watch a movie now?
What is this world coming to?
And still my voice feels muffled and silent, but I keep writing and I don’t remain quiet.