They don’t tell you this but freedom has a scent of its own. It’s powerful and feels like closure in the form of a thick, warm blanket.
But when you’ve been locked up in a room where sight is restricted to concrete and your senses diminish to fuel your hope, anything that involves air and sunlight feels free.
The warm sand that flows between my toes is a gentle reminder of where I am, a comforting hug that whispers the heralding of home.
I look across the vast expanse of sea and fix my sight on the horizon, imagining the decades of time that were stolen away and questioning if what’s left is here to stay. The sight of the glistening sea brings back memories, of ancient fables of underwater kingdoms, myths of mermaids and mermen guarding the world beneath ours.
I used to come out here as a child and pretend to be the guardian of the seas. But it all seems like a forgotten dream now. The sun is about to set and it’s a heavenly sight to behold; with the sun just above the horizon and the water glistening, with a white expanse of light down the middle, like a bridge to the heavens.
A bridge to the heavens. I like that idea. Maybe freedom shall be my paradise on earth. I’ve approached the end of the shore, I didn’t realise shores had an end or that I’d been walking for hours. I watched the sun rise on my new lease of life and now, it has set on my newfound will to live.
I turn around and go back the way I came, to live the free man’s tale.
~ dedicated to all those who have been/ are being wrongly incarcerated
“When I discover who I am, I’ll be free.”
― Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man
This was written in response to the Summer of Stories contest’s first prompt – ‘in 500 words or less, write about a walk on the beach‘. Please feel free to join in!
here are the rest of my entries for the summer of stories contest if you’d like to check it out!