Grey.

Tags

anxiety, creative writing, driving, escape, fiction, life, rain, sharing, spilled ink, spilled thoughts, spilled words, thoughts, travel, words, writer, Writing

The sky is grey, clouds move fast in the wind pushed air. Leaves are plucked from their homes and cascade to the ground in dancing swirls, they hit her windscreen and are swept aside violently by the wipers.

The road is dark like slate, glistening with water, the dim light reflecting, making silver. She peers through the water splatter, judging her distance from the red lights in front, time is ticking, there is somewhere she needs to be.

She passes another car as it pauses at the lights, grey car, no lights, she mutters

“Grey car, you are invisible to me, show yourself, do you not know I can’t see you?”

On this grey rainy day, the sleek silver car blends into the road, the rain splashes swirl under the wipers making it camouflaged.  Her concern for the driver is fleeting as he gets left behind her, her thoughts run to jealousy.

To disappear, to escape, to feel the wind in your hair as you stand on a cliff with the waves surging loudly beneath you, to see the vast seascape and suck in the fresh air and to feel your own mortal significance decline.

To be quiet and alone in this elemental place.

Quiet. Alone.

Her attention is drawn to the road as it winds down hill, the traffic is snarling, feet lift in fear of the weather, she chews her lip in concentration, it’s not far to go now, then she must collect her life and for all the noise and confusion there is nowhere at all, ever, in the world she would rather be.

She shrugs off her cloak of insignificance and steps back into the spot light, the centre of the universe once more and hopes that here, she shines.

© Juliette Turrell

– The Exotic Lady 29/11/11

© Juliette Turrell