(dark fiction)

Oh, how I long for freedom—to simply do what I wish and ignore what I choose. Freedom surrounds me, yet I can’t find it anywhere, constantly having my decisions made for me, causing this dark life to lose its last spark of hope. No matter what I did, it seemed futile, and my day-to-day life was just a day like all the others.

Right now, I was walking down the street, one step after another, trotting on the gravelly path below. My groceries were only filled with the essentials—nothing extra. What would be the point anyway? The plastic handles dug into my palms, burning red lines into them, but for me, it was nothing more than a tickle. After all, I was incapable of feeling.

I tread down the path, walking past the warm-looking houses with happy people enjoying themselves—playing with the kids, arguing about nonsense. On the other side were couples holding hands, swinging them like little kids with smiles plastered on their faces. The woman giggled, and the man laughed alongside her over dumb things, just like in those old movies you sometimes see on TV.

I pushed past that light atmosphere, as someone like myself didn’t belong there. I slipped into an alleyway—almost home now. The shopping bags were starting to become heavier. The sun hid behind the buildings, finally letting me breathe. I went down the alleyway to the abandoned-looking apartments—smashed windows, falling-apart doors, all sorts. I went past one house, past the second and third, to the fourth. I walked through the shadows into my house. I closed my eyes before the horrible memories could come rushing back.

Oh, how I wish to be freed from this state of empty, silent, and cold agony. I wish to be freed like a dove from a dark, tight cage that’s miles from any spark of warmth, hope, or peace