Kennedy Fenno

Writer’s Block

A stone wall stretches for miles, separating me from the lush gardens of my creator. No longer can I frolic with the memories of the past. It seems so distant now, the happy times. Now I am stuck, stuck in this desert of a land where no happy memory wishes to go. As I glance about, I see no sign of civilization. No towers of shining metal and vines. No stunning rainbows in the crystal sky. This is what it feels like to be forgotten, to be exiled from a world of imagination. I will not sigh and submit to this dusty sentence; I will persevere and fight my way back into the world I was once a part of! I may take many names, but QUITTER is not one of them. I have traveled all over, but I will not stay here for long! 

I faltered and thought for a minute, do you think they miss me? Wonder where I ventured? Will I be forgotten? No matter. I reach into my imagination and this time think of escape; I have been here before, trapped, this will not stop my heartbeat, close my eyes, I will not wait for a miracle... I will make one! 

I marched west, along the wall for miles, never seeing a change of scenery, steeling myself against the harsh winds that seemed to be whispering “forgotten”. I always took for granted the security of my adventures, but no more. With each step I take, my resolve seems further and further behind me. Sighing, I sink to my knees and touch the hot jagged structure of this wall; I remember this wall, from the other side, colorful with murals, imagination painted. I sift my fingers through the scorching sand, reminiscing about “Used To Bes” and I lift up my palms, letting the sand run off like water, when I see it. A little green sprout, vibrant amidst all the dust, and my hope is restored; if it can grow here, I will too, I will do whatever it takes for the seedling, but water it with my tears I will not!

 I march now with new determination, not along the wall, but out from it! The green shoot guides me, I search for water, even the smallest trickle to feed my seed when I see a well, a beautiful well, and as I stumble up to it, all I grasp is sand, a mirage. But even from this, I will be encouraged, I will build a well, I trudge back to my little hope, the small defiance in the form of a bud, and I dig a well, with my bare hands, and I water that seed and watch it grow. It becomes a young little tree, and then it flowers and bears fruit of the most delicious quality. Salivating, I pluck one from its branches and split it in half, seeds scatter and I smile, knowing that these seeds will bring hope to many others.

By and by my seedling becomes a beautiful tree and gives shade and plentiful fruit to all who rest in its branches. Soon, with my grove of trees, a pond begins to form and rain clouds gather sprinkling me with fresh water that washes away the grime of the desert, and after that shower comes a stunning rainbow, in the crystal sky. As my imagination flourishes, I wonder aloud, does the wall even exist anymore?