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After the wind and rain had expended all their strength, unrelenting through the night, I waited anxiously at the window.

Cast aside the day before so that my hands were free to hang from the bars. I had forgotten him. I had forgotten that I needed him. That to hold him in my arms at night kept the bad things away and that no matter where I slept it could become my home because we had each other.

The gray hook at the top of the screen made the scratching sound I had been waiting for and as the door was released, I pushed hard against the rusted screen, the jagged edge of metal piercing the palm of my hand where the flies found entrance into the house cause no moments pause, it swung open with the loud pop as it hit the wall.

I will get in trouble for that later, I though briefly hearing the fussing muffed sounds behind me but I had long since pasted the point of caring what was said.

I learned it was the tone and inflection that really speaks the meaning of words. Even when written, there is a mood set by a metronome hidden inside the spaces that offers much more than just what the letters you put together on a page mean or, let flow from the mouth in hopes of making a sound.

My heart, thumping hard, felt like it would burst from its cage as I knelt by his side. I brushed away the pink fur matted around his large plastic eyes. Picking the flecks of mud and slender blades of grass from what had been his velvety paws. I became aware of my loss. He was my friend, my confidant, my teddybear, and I had asininely left him to his demise.

He felt like clumps of wet sand falling through my fingers as I pulled him from the damp earth and cradled him to my chest. I wept the power of silent tears that created fortress walls but at the same time suffocated my voice.

This is why the marks people and things leave behind have such a significance and value to me. The loving of them leaves the deepest marks, pleasant and painful. At times I forget the difference. It is when you fully allow something/someone to possess you, do they, in turn, become your prize possession.

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3 thoughts on “Daily Prompt: prized possession

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