* This was a piece inspired by one of the prompts on Inspiration Monday over at the blog Be Kind Rewrite. The prompt I partook of was — “used words”. Pop over and get inspired to write something.*
Rosemary sat cross legged on her bed and swept her long brown hair behind her. She placed a pillow in her lap, then opened her journal upon it. She turned to a blank page and began writing. Writing had become one of her most treasured past times.
Rather than speak, she used words written on paper to express herself. Of course, she dared not let anyone read the words. She only wrote when she was sure no one was around. The words were hers and she finally had power over her words. She had a secret hiding place for her journals, so no one would be able to read her words.
She had tired of talking long ago. It had been a couple of years since her lips had uttered words aloud. Being condemned every time you open your mouth can have that effect. Her husband had even told her once she could have opinions as long as she didn’t express them. Of course, he had lightly said he was joking, but she knew him. She got so used to swallowing her words, she just stopped talking one day.
No one, including her mother, had been able to get her to talk again. Speaking simply hurt her heart too much. She had felt sure no one truly listened to her anyway and her spoken words had always failed to protect her. The words just ceased to flow as they had no purpose.
The door to her room opened silently and in strode a tall man. He was dressed in faded jeans, long sleeve buttoned down shirt, and cowboy hat. She knew he was there by the sound of his boots on the wooden floor. She remembered the sound. She stopped writing and looked up with a smile on her face.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took his hat off and somberly said, “I’m sorry, he’s passed.” Tears silently began to fall from her eyes. He embraced her and she cried more. She cried not only for his passing, which she hoped would give him peace he had never had on earth. She cried as well, or maybe more so, because she was free. The man stood and turned to leave. A single plea escaped her lips, “Stay”.