Got My Dress, Got My Boots

“No.”

The sound seems almost foreign as the vibrations in her throat erupted past her lips, cracked and pitched. She clenches her fists and straightens her back, determination leaving its mark on her palms. Each step to the door is accented by the heavy thuds her boots drum on the wobbly planks and flooring that was her prison. The doorknob, still warm, beckons to her. Twist me, turn me. She reaches out and roughly wrenches the knob around and pushes the door hard, not letting herself think it through or reconsider. The knob squeals a complaint as she turns it, protesting against the rough treatment, but she is in command now, and the world does what she wants it to do from now on. Hinges screech, wood creaks, and the stale air presses her forward as it is sucked through the aperture that for so long had remained sealed closed. Defiantly, she looks into the blinding sunlight, but Mother Nature wins the battle of wills and Jane is forced to cover her eyes. The white hot glow penetrates her hands, eyelids, and brain. The world knows her before she even sets foot out into it. Stumbling blindly out of the house, she grasps for something but only swipes the air. The breeze is cool on her arms and through her hair. Eventually, she finds her footing and stands on the curb of some random road. The streets are clear, but the area is in no way abandoned. The signs of life are everywhere, creeping from under benches and fluttering in the wind, poking out of trash bins. Jane takes a deep breath and finds a seat to simply enjoy the touch of the sun on her skin. The bench is hot from being out in the sun’s baking glare, but she doesn’t mind. As the wisps of heat lick her skin and the breeze kisses her cheeks a squealing sound jolts her from her woolgathering. A bus pulls up and the door is screeching open. Jane smiles devilishly and with a contemptuous glance back to the door she once knew as home, she stands up and finds a new seat, one that will bring her into a world ripe with the unknown.

As inspired by this deviation by Scott James Prebble.

I hope it will suffice.