“She’s terrified of small spaces, didn’t you know? That’s why she moved.”

Increasingly, quite ordinary situations brought on the terror. As her terrors grew her interpretation of small spaces expanded. Being jammed into the back seat of a car was bad, worse was enduring the press of public transportation. People. Any gathering of people became unbearable; even one or two friends became an encroachment. She needed space.

Inside spaces needed to be tidy and organized, ruthlessly uncluttered. She spent more time out of doors, walking, but even there began to feel hemmed in not just by other walkers and narrow paths, but even by trees and hills, hovering, encircling topographies.

She moved to North Dakota, into an old farmhouse with a big open porch overlooking miles and miles of prairie. She spent hours gazing at the flat expanse of wheat fields that surrounded her. But then she came to feel enclosed by this surrounding of wheat that whispered and swayed in the wind, and was grateful for the combines that came and left behind only silent stubble. This was soon covered by snow and cold drove her indoors.

Here was where the real terror took hold. Alone and with no escape, would she again feel crowded, jostled and shoved by the doubts and fears that trolled her mind space, or would she find expansion there in her solitude?

The door was left open, receiving blowing snow that had already drifted onto the porch behind her. She disappeared into the unbroken, endless white of a prairie blizzard.


Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, First Line Friday, Short Fiction – November 10th, 2017  Your line for this week is: He’s terrified of small spaces, didn’t you know?” 

4 thoughts on “Spaces

  1. Pingback: Share Your Short Story Winner for January 2018 | Stevie Turner, Indie Author.

  2. Pingback: Writers showcase, February 1, 2018 – The Write Edge Writing Workshop by Ekta R. Garg

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