Who among us doesn't have scars? - SHORT STORY

in writing •  last year


There once lived a Woman somewhere on the thin line between dreams and reality, in the land of stories and myths. She lived long ago when wishes were still magically granted, and where Nature would talk, and a Man would listen. It that time birdsong was different than it is today, and again, maybe it was completely the same. Maybe the mountains were higher and lakes deeper, and maybe everything was as it is today, just as our imagination creates it and Life enables it.

A Woman loved to run, and on every new Moon, she would run fastest and she would run farthest. She would prepare herself for that event and plan carefully what to wear and which path to take, she would count the days until she would once again cross great distances. There once came such a day and she put on her clothes and running shoes that had a purpose to follow her along her journey which she thought as an adventure even though every step was always the same. She sett off the first street and as her muscles were still warming up and getting used to strain, she passed by well-known patios and houses decorated with flowers that always flourished with white curtains on clean windows that hid some other people, similar or different from her. Sometimes she would imagine them and wonder what were they like. Were they pretty and kind, were they surrounded by love and were they happy? From that first street, she turned right on the dirt track that separated two estates. The field was always to her right and the forest to her left. As she was reaching the crossroads her feet lifted a small amount of dirt and dust in the air with each new step. She heard only her heavy breathing and Nature that surrounded her and blended with her breath becoming a part of her being. At a crossroads, she stopped and wiped the sweat off her face with a sleeve then looked at the well-known crossing and turned on the left path that led between two fenced meadows. After a couple of moments, a sharp piece of metal cut her right leg. Her stopping had more to do with the surprise then it did with pain that she felt. She looked at the crimson blood that begun to flow down her pale skin and wondered “HOW DID I NOT SEE IT? ANY NORMAL PERSON WOULD HAVE SEEN THE WIRE…” The wire stood behind her as if nothing had happened, and only a small red drop was opposing its metal grayness.


A month had passed a new Moon showed its face once again. A Woman went on her run. She passed the houses smelling the flowers that grew in their gardens and smiled at the clean windows and white curtains that were hiding stories behind them. From the first street, she turned right on the dirt track with a field on its right and a meadow on its left. She was running fast and she was running nimbly. The breeze rustled through her hair sticking it to her salty face. She stopped at the crossroads, stretched her sore muscles and turned left on a path between two meadows. She thought about crossing to the other side but didn't do it. After a while, a sharp piece of metal cut her right leg. She stood in disbelief, moving her look from the wire to her leg and back again on the wire. She allowed herself to feel anger as she realized that her scar had opened up and fresh blood had begun dripping from it. “BUT I KNEW THERE WAS A WIRE…,” she thought “HOW COULD I MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE? ANY NORMAL PERSON WOULD HAVE SEEN THE WIRE…

Days had past and there came a time of another new Moon. The Woman got ready and went for her run. She sett off the first street smelling the flowers and looking at the windows that stared at her like big eyes with white curtains as lashes on them. Her first turn was on the right dirt track that left a field on its right and a green grassland to its right, filled with wildflowers that gently dangled in the wind. Her hands were moving harmoniously next to her body, following her legs that carried her like a wild animal who enjoyed its sprint. On the crossroads, she stopped and moved a lock of hair from her face and put it behind an ear, she saw better then. She took a left turn, like every other time, that led between two meadows. In the distance, she saw a wire, and as she was moving closer and closer to it her whole being started screaming at her to cross to the other side. She heard her thoughts telling her to move away from the spikes. Intuition, the feeling in her stomach, tingling in her back, her whole existence in time and space contracted to a single point, single thought “MOVE AWAY”, but she didn't. A sharp piece of metal cut her right leg. She stopped and looked at the barbwire that had a little red mark of her on it. The wound on her leg started to hurt and burn. “WHY HAVEN'T I MOVED? CROSSED TO THE OTHER SIDE? DID I GO THIS WAY ON PURPOSE? ANY NORMAL PERSON WOULD HAVE SEEN THE WIRE…”


For her next run, she prepared herself even more carefully than before. With each passing day, she would think about her feet moving across great distances, her hair being messed up by the wind and all the beautiful things her senses would experience. When a new Moon arrived she began her journey through the first street smelling the flowers and waving at the windows that hid their tenants. She took a right turn on the dirt track that led between the filed and a grassland. So much nothingness on the right and so much life on the left. At the crossroads, she stopped and looked around herself. Above her head, she saw a bird, picturing a scene of freedom, flying through the clear blue sky. She took a left path like she always had and with each new move she fought with her thoughts. She was decisive and indecisive, prepared and unprepared, brave and frightened at the same time. A few steps before the wire she crossed to the other side of the path and passed over the prickly metal. As she was passing it by she saw that familiar spot with brown and dried up piece of herself on it. She turned around and starting running slower, still in the same direction but backward, moving away from the wire looking at it as it became smaller and smaller in the distance. “ANY NORMAL PERSON WOULD HAVE SEEN THE WIRE…,” she thought.

There once lived a Woman somewhere on the thin line between dreams and reality, in a time when everything was different and yet the same as it is today. A Woman loved to run and on each new Moon she would run the farthest and she would run the fastest. She would always start down the same street with colorful houses that had windows crowned with white curtains and delightful flowers in gardens. She would turn right on the dirt path that led between the dead field on the right and a grassland full of life on the left. One time, at the end of that dirt path, just on the crossroads, she stopped, inhaled the world deep into her lungs and for the first time, took a right turn. She felt satisfied with her decision and the change that took place. “WHO AMONG US DOESN'T HAVE SCARS?” she smiled and run into some other story.
If you like my story feel free to upvote, comment and/or resteemit. I'm looking forward to reading your thoughts and impressions about this metaphorical piece on our scars that we all have and carry with us.

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Bok @zen-art pridruži nam se na novo podignutom Discord serveru za Hrvatske Steemit korisnike detaljnije o ideji možeš pročitati u linku ispod
(ispričavam se ukoliko si već tamo, ovaj komentar post-am po redu svima)


I'm so glad that we found each others blogs and that I got to read this :) :)


Thanks Janine 💚 I'm glad we found each others blogs too :)

This reminds me of a fishing wire someone tied over a steep path in Verdun, close to canal Lachine. What kind of sadist would do that?