My first time at doing a Fridays Shoot-Out. I know mine is different than most entries but Im really into my writing at the moment so I just cant help myself. So, I have two different takes on the word "Metal". The first, a poem of a weird obsession with the love of metal. And 2nd is a short shory of someones hate for metal because of tragic events as a child.
Metal in my hand
The metal in my hand feels so good, cold
Like the ice in my mouth, very bold
So much heavier, smooth to touch
Didn't realize I'd love it so much
This obsession with metal things
No need for gold or diamond rings
I love how it shines, yes its true
I dont know what I should do
Except to seek out the object of my obsession
Until it becomes my posession
I really dont care that noone understands
My love for the metal in my hand
Metal Bars
When walking down the street one night, I froze dead in my tracks. Why was this happening to me. Why couldn't I ever escape this nightmare. There across the road were metal bars. Trying hard to control my breathing, I clutched at my throat. I couldn't have a panic attack here, not now. Gathering all the strength I could find I took off down the street, not sure what direction I was going because I could barely see. My eyes, blurred with the tears filling up and running over. I ran until my legs burned. Legs shaking, feeling as if they were going to crumble beneath me, I ran in to a brick wall. Looking up, I realized I had run into a apartment complex. My back against the brick wall, my body slid down slowly until I sat down hard on the ground. Eyes still glazed over, my mind flashes back to those years long ago as a child. My mother and father had divorced, and we were living with her new friend. When she was away at work, he'd lock me up in a room down stairs with metal bars. Trapped there all day until my mother was on her way home. He'd always ask her to call to let him know when she was on her way home. I knew he did this so he would have time to let me out. I tryed to tell her one night when he was asleep. My mom and I were cuddled on the sofa watching a movie. She didn't believe me. She yelled at me and made me go to bed early. What was worse was that she told him what I had said and he punished me for it. He had slapped me hard across the face and punched me in the stomach. I didn't get my food bowl that day, nor my water dish. Blinking my eyes and shaking my head, I force the memories from my thoughts. Most days its as if it never happened. I can almost forget that those horrible days even existed. Until Im rudely awakened by the site of metal bars and Im taken back to those achingly sick memories that I now realize will forever haunt me. I grab my purse that had slipped from my hand and dig inside until I feel my cell phone. Flipping it open, I dial my best friends number.
"Hello".
"Maria, I need you to come get me."
"Ok, where are you?"
"Pine Ridge Aparments".
"How'd you get over there?"
"I'll explain later, just please come get me before I freak out anymore than I already have."
"Ok, Im on my way."
"Maria, one more thing."
"Yeah, what is it."
"Do you best to avoid going down Clinton Road."
"Ok, but whats on Clinton Road?
"Metal bars."
