Let Me Know When It’s Over

Since they told me to STAY AT HOME and self-isolate due to being over seventy and having angina, I have remained hidden away. I’ve lived on baked beans and tinned macaroni cheese for the past twelve weeks. The only company I have had is a little brown mouse that creeps in at night to stay warm and safe from the night owls.

Now they tell me that since I shut myself away, the whole world has gone crazy. I had no idea I made that much of a difference. Perhaps I should get myself back out there and spread a little love and kindness everywhere I go.

Or maybe I will stay within my interior rooms and let this corrupt world dismantle itself. Please knock on my door and let me know when it is all over. I’ll emerge when you tell me it is safe to do so.

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This ickle post was written in response to FANDANGO’S FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE:

https://fivedotoh.com/2020/06/08/fandangos-flash-fiction-challenge-69/

The Fear In My Eyes

Can you see it in my eyes? I don’t think I am doing a very good job of hiding it at the moment. The sunglasses and the hats are my protection. They aid my disguise. I am still hiding, still running from a situation I never really learnt to deal with properly. It did overwhelm me. I escaped it when I went to a park and ended up fleeing London after the injuries I sustained that night.

I sometimes wonder if the reason why it still hurts me, even though it is over five years ago, is because I did not find a way to deal with it. Being the victim to a crime did remove me from the nightmare, but it wasn’t dealing with the cause of my distress. It just gave me a different set of challenges to deal with and overcome.

I overcame my physical injuries, my loss of joy, the knocks to my self-confidence. I managed to get back to paid work and unpaid voluntary work, to socialising with friends on a small scale and colleagues on a large scale. All good things.

But I never figured out a way to deal with being a subject of trivial gossip and slanderous rumours. So I still hide. The life, the home, the paid work I am involved in now feels like a temporary blip where I can hide, where I can pretend to live. It feels safe for the moment. But there is always that threat that they will find me and do what they did again. I still have no idea how I would deal with it if they did.