Short Fiction: “To Walk.” #shortreads

To Walk, by Pamela Schloesser Canepa. (c) 2019

I don’t care if you believe in reincarnation or not. Either way, I was once a seasoned philosopher. People would come from miles and miles to hear me speak.

As public transportation became more popular, I resisted. What use did I have for a horse or chariot? I would walk everywhere I could. The sun would warm my face and the cool breeze would whisper around me, telling of the season. There would be happy children, dogs, or squirrels along my route. I was one with nature.

Now, I live a somewhat different life. Oh, there’s still plenty of time for philosophizing. I put other people at ease. There is obviously purpose in my life, if nothing other than to remind people to lighten up. But I await indoors, always anticipating that one word: Walk. I will lose my composure whenever it is uttered. She seems to understand and doesn’t get after me too much for lounging on her couch or comfy chair. All I long for is to hear those words.

“Want a walk?” She asks, like she doesn’t know the answer. I’ll immediately jump up and down, pawing her legs, begging.

“Do I want a walk? Woman, what do you think? Don’t make me beg!”

The moment we walk out of that door, I am me again, regardless of the leash around my collar.

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**Every day there is a new prompt at Rag Tag Community in the form of one word.  On RDP Saturday, the prompt is “walk.” This was my response.  I hope you have enjoyed it.    Check out other posts or the writing instructions at https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/03/09/rdp-saturday-walk/

Affront

I’d just rounded the corner to my street on the way back from a pleasant evening walk with Sparky, my dog. There it was in front of me.

This evening’s cold front was rapidly advancing. I wouldn’t make it home in time. The approaching air was thick as a blanket, appearing palpable and alien. My dog just looked at me with my gaping mouth, probably wondering if I’d feed him again when we got home.

Yes, if we make it home, I’ll fill your dish again.

I grabbed the leash more firmly and picked up the pace. It seemed like the wind was being knocked out of me.

Not only that, but the wind around me was really kicking up some dust. I started a slow jog then accelerated as much as possible.

Coughing and sputtering, I made it to the door. I fell in, the dog following me. Bravely, I reached into the rolltop desk for my weapon.

That old inhaler does wonders. I peered out the window as the dust demon hurried down the street, a cloud of fog on its heels. Survived, again.

(C) 2019, Pamela Schloesser Canepa

Photo obtained via Pixabay.

Alone, (a short story). #writephoto

Photo provided by Sue Vincent at scvincent.com

No one knows where I am.  They’re probably saying I’m crazy.  That’s okay; I don’t expect most of them to understand.

I’m out here, all alone.  Miles away, on another continent.  The view is breathtakingly beautiful.  The sounds are inherently calming.  I don’t wake to an alarm; the slight hint of dawn and the chirping of birds is what wakes me every morning.

Chastity might understand.  Maybe one day I’ll go back for her.  Or maybe I won’t, if it could mean losing everything I have right now.

What I have now is freedom.  Like the gulls cawing above, I have freedom from my uncouth boss, freedom from bills, the mortgage, that ex-wife and her constant prying for alimony.  I have freedom from the stress.  The only thing I have to stress about now is what I’ll eat.  So far, I’ve been able to find a way, every time.  This is a life of survival, and I’m doing it.  I never thought I could give up that false security back home.  Now, I know it’s totally possible.

The beach breeze brings a pleasant, salty smell to the air.  Some days, I remind myself that the lack of a shower means a lack of interest–on my house, my credit cards, my car.  I let them repossess it, and the house went into foreclosure.  Some will say I was only trying to jilt my ex-wife, but they don’t see the larger monster that I needed to escape.

Money is what ruled me, and what was bound to kill me.  I was working non-stop, fueling myself with caffeine, Redbull and barbecue.  Now, I take my chances on a steep mountain or waking up in a hostel, not knowing if I’ll gather money to buy my next meal, but I am getting better day by day.  Instead of getting  heart disease, I will get leaner.

In a day or two, I’ll go to visit the monks on the next mountain.  I think they’ll agree with my decisions.  Learning to do without is really freeing.

 

 

*Every week, Sue Vincent posts a photo prompt and a challenge to fellow bloggers.  Directions are:  Use the image (below) as inspiration to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… light or dark, whatever you choose, by noon (GMT)  Wednesday 16th August and link back to this post with a pingback.

I invite you to visit the post on Sue Vincent’s blog at https://scvincent.com/2017/08/10/thursday-photo-prompt-alone-writephoto/