Stumble It!
Fearlesss
Saturday, April 12, 2008 at 11:20AM 
I used to be Fearless. As a child there was nothing I would not dare to do. My meditations took place on the windowsill, contemplating the art of falling. I designed wings to attach to my flapping arms- in order to fly. Alone for so much of the time, there was no time for fear- everything was do or die.
I am dismayed to report that the body that was Fearless has been kidnapped. Held hostage and tortured for the truth. Fearless has been gone now for so long, we fear it is too late. As soon as I noticed Fearless was gone I sent out a rescue crew, but they have been searching for years and are tired. We received a distress call once, Fearless seemed to have discovered a moment of freedom from bondage, where it was able to call for help.
Please send help! I'm still alive and able, though I have been beaten to a pulp and have spent months close to the edge of breath, every time I am sure to fade into oblivion they come back and resurrect me enough to torture me some more. Please don't give up on me. Send help!
I want to keep looking. But the rescue crew is tired. They want to return home to their families who they haven't seen for years. Many of them have full grown children that they have never met. It's not fair to keep them searching. They try to tell me it's no use anyway, they say Fearless will never come back and I should just accept it. They say that if by some miracle a return were ever to happen, Fearless would never be the same anyway. I am growing weary and am inclined to believe my rescue team and relieve them of their duties.
I look around to these four padded walls with only a hole with which to see outdoors and think maybe it is time to send the rescue team home. Maybe this white room is home now and I have to accept it. If it weren't for those damn Memories, that visit me every dawn. They walk right in through one of the padded doors I try to keep locked. They walk in with their faded colored robes and taunt me. The Memories remind me, what it was like to feel, taste, see and smell life. They carry little nostalgic vials of blood that rush, crash and surge like waves to be alive the way I used to be. They keep me hoping Fearless will one day walk through that door and set me free.
http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/
Reader Comments (10)
I see a woman trapped, trapped in her walls, the walls of mundanity, same job, same worries, same day in day out hum drum...time to break out, fearless is knocking at your door. OPEN IT!
Interesting, makes me think that we find ourselves in similar situations once in a while. Let's keep searching.
Children are fearless, because they think they cannot die.
This is also why they are honest.
What a powerful entry--so beautiful! If you experienced it once, you can experience it again!
What a powerful, imaginative and original take on the prompt. Excellent.
OH you're funny :)
It seems odd that instead of growing stronger as we age, we grow more fearful. Does this mean life is tough?
I think it is we who are lost. We hide from fearlessness in the hope that we may hide from the disasters of life, perhaps even death. We have but to ask and fearless will come running back to embrace us. ;)
Well done girl!
rel
I enjoyed this inspired response to this week's topic... although I am suspicious: can anyone who creates so much as you really be as fearful as you claim in this post?
I enjoyed this take on the prompt. Coupled with your photographic triptych (which I think is great!) you have crafted an evocative piece. I wonder if Fearless will ever return...
Love how you personify fearless as a powerful personality.
Gemma