At Last It Was Evening…

At last it was evening and I was finally out the door. I was running as fast as my feet could run, forgetting the coldness that enveloped my entire being. My mind and pulse were racing against each other. I tripped and small stones cut my palms but it didn’t hurt. My lip hurt more than these little cuts on my hands. His huge hands were strong and his wedding ring contacted my upper lip in one fast blow. I tried to escape but he was faster than I was. He stood by the door and stayed there all night, staring at me like a mad man. His eyes were on fire and I thought I saw his demon looking right at me. This was the man I married, the man I thought I knew, the man I never expected to lay a finger on me. He was the man I swore to never hurt but as he lay on the floor with broken glass and drops of his blood, I knew I was forever changed.

***

Today’s writing prompt from Robin Tuthill of LinkedIn’s Freeing The Writer Within:

Write, starting with this first line from John Steinbeck’s “In Dubious Battle”: “At last it was evening.”
(Remember to go with your “first flash,” and write for 10 minutes without stopping or thinking.)

 

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