Supporters of Love

Friday, March 18, 2011

The Locked Vault, By: Anonymous

Here is the second in my friend's trilogy of creative writing.

The Locked Vault is about the aftermath of abuse. It's about the fear of trusting someone with your heart again. It takes so much time to heal and trust is something that doesn't come easily after a relationship of abuse. It's about the desire to want to never love again but the curiousity of what is out there...if you really could be loved by someone again.



I keep trying to decide what to do with the key.

I stare at the locked vault as I bite my lip and tap my foot.

I walk over to it, eye it, pace around it and walk away.

The contents are most precious and I certainly don’t know if it is worth it to unlock the vault at this moment.

I fear that if I don’t, the contents won’t hold the value they once did.

Some things lose their value over time, and I’m afraid my precious assets will to if I leave them locked away.

But opening the vault is tricky and doesn’t come without consequences.

I sigh out loud and look to the ceiling, my hand’s up in the air and look up at Him and ask “what now?”. I know what could happen if I make the wrong decision. Fear gets to me. Something is pulling me away from the vault. I open my mouth to question the force that disengages me but nothing comes out. I cannot speak.

My mind races, my heart pounds…my eyes twitch. I cannot remember the last time I felt so confused. So weak and without control.

I’m such a sure person. Directness has been my specialty. It’s had its ups and downs but it’s been my friend more times than not.

I want to open the vault!

Can I? Can I really exploit my treasures again like that? If they will not sale for their truest value than can I justify unlocking the gems to my heart?

I can’t help it; I’m again nearing the vault. I touch the cold metal that locks inside all my worth…my skin chills as it caresses the vault.

I look at the key…its burning a hole in my right hand. I feel the burn as I clench it in my fist.

I open my hand slowly, feeling the tingling sensation as I do so.

My hand trembles and I can see where the key left an imprint on my hand.

I take a deep breath.

I’m ready to do it.

I take the key, insert it….

And turn.

And then shake.

And then pull.

It won’t open. My vault!

1 comment:

  1. Thank you for sharing this with me, darling. My hope is that others come forward with their messages to inspire: thecompassionfashionproject@gmail.com

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