Here's my entry for this week. My challenge prompt is at the bottom. Enjoy.
She slammed the door for dramatic value as she ran out. But she only got as far as the back yard. She realized she might as well just stop because he wasn’t going to come running out after her. He wasn’t going to say he was sorry or beg her to come back in the house. She was certain that he was glad she was gone.
It was a chilly night and the wind made it seem even colder as it whipped her long dark hair around her face. She could feel the cold settling in but she refused to turn around and go back. She sat down on the wrought iron bench at the end of the brick path, its white paint had chipped off over the years and rust began to leave brownish red streaks on the bricks below the sturdy legs of the worn bench.
Her eyes followed the streaks, thick and bold in color towards the source, then getting weaker and narrower as they moved away from the source, as they reached out on their own further down the brick path. That is how she felt right now, weaker and so much more fragile, as she found herself moving so far away from him.
Her eyes continued down the brick path that led back to the house that she had moments ago stormed out of. The path itself now appeared as treacherous as the feelings housed inside of her. The foundation of soft sand was now worn down in spots, leaving the once sturdy and straight pattern of the bricks disjointed and uneven. She was uneven, the pieces of her, of them, not fitting together any longer, making it dangerous to try to take a step forward.
How did it get like this, she wondered to herself as she thought back to weekend they had spent together so many years ago making that pathway. She remembered the feel of the cool sand as they smoothed it down to serve as the perfect foundation and the sturdiness of the bricks as they carefully placed each one in just the right spot. They had built it together, much like the life that they had so carefully planned and built together inside the walls of the now-distant house.
The years and the neglect had taken the toll on both, the brick path and the life they built inside the house. Moss and weeds crept up between the cracks in the bricks, forcing them into jagged, uneven places, not at all what they had intended when they worked so hard to build it. Arguments and hurt had done the same to their marriage. They both now, she sadly realized sitting on that cold bench in the dark of the night, were beyond repair.
This week's Indie Ink Challenge came from Kelly Garriott Waite, who gave me this prompt: Bricks in a sand patio. I challenged Chaos Mandy with the prompt: Despite the ocean in the way, the were as close as they had ever been