Agoraphobia

A woman who fears the outside world searches for what she needs in order to start anew and leave her fear behind.

            It began when she found herself unable to sleep at night.  The minutes once reserved for slumber soon became devoted to pacing the halls relentlessly, wearing patches through the dingy carpet.

            She wanted to leave, she wanted out.  But each time her hand reached for the door, she faltered.  Was it doubt that restricted her?  Doubt in herself, in the outside world? 

Or was it something else?

            Was it fear?

            And so she remained indoors, secluded in her quiet enclave, untouched by time.  And each day she would sit by the window and stare out through its locked pane, wondering when she would be free of herself.  She wanted her life back, lonely though it’d been.  But where was the impetus?

            Night fell once more, and her futile restlessness to do something once again drove her to pacing the halls.  It led her to the door, where she was once again yanked back by the other “her” " by that fear deep inside.

            It was only after her fifth round past the window that she saw him.  A man in a black coat, a scarf the colour of roses.  He was silent and still, standing in the neglected driveway and staring at her with deep dark eyes.

            For the first time in a while, she ran to her bed and sat beneath the covers.  He frightened her, this man.  She was scared of being pulled in.  She was scared of the things he stood for.

            She found that she was tired, and she slept.

            She woke abruptly and scuttled to the window.  He was gone.  She lay on her back to stare at the ceiling. 

            It was atrocious!!  Webs hung from every corner, dust coated every surface.  Things were strewn about the floor and haphazardly heaped high.  The house smelled " an animal’s scent, the scent of something trapped, the scent of a stagnant life.  The carpet was filthy and covered in crumbs.

            She rose.  It seemed as though the walls had constricted, as though the lights had dimmed.  It seemed that she was suddenly suffocating in the life she’d made " a life which no longer seemed safe.  The restless longing flared up higher this time and she flew for the door just as the feeling passed.  She was flung back once again and weeping, she fled.

            But a flash of red y the window caught her eye.  It was he, the man in black, standing among the dried-up vines and staring with soulful eyes.  And she saw herself, reflected, unable to protest the pull.  The desire to do something returned and propelled her forward towards the window and the man.

            She put her hand to the glass and met his gaze.

            Slowly, he pulled the worn leather glove from his right hand and placed it upon the window, slim fingers extended.

            She saw in him the impetus, the holt she needed to shed her prison " to leave her ruined life and start anew.  And as he watched in quiet approval, palm still pressed to the glass, she walked to the door.  Turned the knob with a steady hand.  Pushed, and breathed for the first time.

           

            If only we could all be as lucky.

Author's Note

It's kind of a mash-up of psychology and a fairy tale. It's about a woman with agoraphobia, but as I wrote it I kept thinking of ghosts and how they are unable to leave without an impetus, without something prompting them to do so. And then when the man showed up, I thought of Sleeping Beauty - except, of course, the woman in this story has insomnia broken only when he shows up (the opposite of Sleeping Beauty). But anyway, I wrote it because it's kind of something I'm going through now. I hope I can be as lucky too.

Reviews

[A.C. Davis]

Very nice ending.

[Treo LeGigeo]

Wow, that ending has great impact. I'm not sure I understand it, but it made a very nice psychological landscape.