Prose

The Suitcase

I haven’t blogged for quite a few months now. After a challenging year last year I lost contact with my Muse for a while and despite many attempts I was unable to write anything worth sharing. Then a writing prompt on a group I am a member of seemed to trigger something and below is my response to that prompt and once again I’m happily writing again.

 

The Suitcase.

The black suitcase was unzipped and lay open, tempting me to peek inside. It didn’t belong to me, because I didn’t own one, I have never owned one so I turned away. Something was pulling me back towards it, perhaps the triggered memories of past holidays or those backpacking days and the excitement and freedom of visiting new places. I longed to look inside but I ignored the feeling and walked away.

The suitcase remained in my thoughts and there were plenty reminders. A friend selling two suitcases on her Facebook page; suitcases for sale at the tills in the supermarket; another plain black suitcase randomly placed in a small gift shop and finally a brown suitcase with buckles in the staff room at the school where I work. The final suitcase was the strangest and the type I have always wanted to own and store my writing in, I have wanted this since I was a child after I had watched Swallows and Amazons. These constant reminders sent me back to visit the original suitcase.

I stood in front of this black suitcase, there didn’t seem to be anything special about it, it was fairly ordinary and yet it made me tingle inside. I needed something from it, it contained something that belonged to me. Nervously I approached and glanced inside, as my eyes stared at the contents I could feel a swarm of butterflies whirling around within me. Piles of paper and old notebooks lined the bottom of the case, creating a bed for someone as she slept peacefully on top of it all. What a relief to have found her, it has been a year since I have felt her presence and I have missed her immensely. Gently I lift her out and hold her close, she sleeps but we are reunited and now I just have to gently wake her from her hibernation. I pick up my pen and notebook and start to scribble these very words you read now… I have found my Muse once again – oh how I’ve missed her these last few months.

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2 thoughts on “The Suitcase

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