Monday, 19 September 2011

The Constant Companion - Week 7

Week 7 - Life Writing

Write an autobiographical piece about love.
Love lost, love found, love rejected.. your choice.

My eyes open.  It takes a while to adjust to the dark and for them to take in the dull grey blur of my prison.  I look around the cell from my flat position, great bars rise up all around me, dominating my view of everything but the space above me.  I spot my constant companion, I stretch out for him willing him to reach for me.  He sits motionless.  I call to him softly, still he sits there, his eyes fixed steadily on nothing in the room. Many nights have passed before were he remained ignorant to my plight and emotionless to my cries.  I push my legs out of their restraints, bending and flexing them, trying to further release them from the clothes that cling to my body.  I call out.  Maybe my smiling angel will hear me... nothing... no comforting words, no illuminated figure at the door.  Where is she? She normally passes through this time of night.  I start to cry.  What if she's gone? What if she has forsaken me and found another more pitiful sight.  Is this what happened to my companion? Did she once come to him but then left him so that now he sits alone, staring into the dark with his beady unblinking eyes.  Louder I cry now, my fears consume me and warm wet tears fall down my face, I scream out my anguish and the salty taste of my tears fill my mouth and choke me.  My legs move in frustration, up and down, up and down, my arms beat the space beside me again and again, I arch my back as abandonment consumes me.
I hear footsteps..  I look to my constant companion to see if he heard them too.  He remains motionless and won't look me in the eye. The door opens and I fear what new horrors it may bring and start to scream louder.
A light shines behind her as she glides across my cell.  She bends down to release me from my constraints.  She smiles and wipes the tears from my eyes.  Slowly we float across the room, her gentle hand on my back comforting me.  She sits and hums and starts to rock back and forth, back and forth.  A soft milky breast is coaxed into my mouth and with this she silences my cries and turns them to hiccups.  I look back at my constant companion, and tighten my grip on my smiling angel.  I don't want to be like him.


  1. Now that, is a scary thought, and an emotional one at that! Very perceptive, inventive and well written! x

  2. Reminds me a of a darker but at the same time more innocent Stewie from Family Guy. I guess the darkness is the reality of the environment, and the innocence is because the baby does not want to kill it's mum and take over the world!

    Great stuff.

    Where is my Teddy?

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