The Place Between
They know where you live, know that the rock is slowly but surely bearing down on that hard place where you have come to reside, that only place you’ve ever known.
You hear the contempt, the disdain and disbelief in their voices, “Just move, Man”; hear them mutter, “Some people can’t get out of their own way” but you can’t move, you’re feeling the pinch; the pinch has become a steady grind and an oppressive weight, as heavy as their contempt.
Though from the inside the opening to a trap cannot be seen, from there you hear their derisions for your scrabbling and scratching, but they will not help you away from the hard place where you have come to reside.
The rock now your only view, blocking out the light, its interminable rolling the noise that keeps you awake at night, squeezing any hope from your constricted dreams.
They are afraid; for if that rock, the one bearing down on you in your hard place, if that rock should shatter and fall apart, they are afraid of what you might do with the pieces as you pick them up.
For now you scratch your art into the face of that boulder, fingers bleeding and raw.
The Six Sentence Story prompt from Denise this week is “place”. This is the place the prompt took me to. Be sure to click over to GirlieOnTheEdge to add your Six Sentences to the mix, or just to read and comment.