Friday, August 20, 2010

Ocean/ Methodical

The sound of the ocean roared in my ears as the plane raced down the strip and began ascending. I knew it wasn't the ocean itself, but it was the closest I'd heard to it since I'd been away from home. Closing my blue eyes, I let the sound wash over my soul. I gripped the seat arms more tightly. Going home after 23 years presented many challenges.

Methodically, I planned my trip. It wouldn't be good for my acquaintances or business partners to find me. Or my family. Bloodshed would be a certainty if that happened. To ensure everyone's safety, I had to create a new identity, build a life and reputation in a place I couldn't yet step foot, plan enough goose chases for them to eventually loose interest, and of course make sure there was no trail behind where I would actually walk.

I just hoped the ocean would offer me the escape I sought. It could just as easily swallow me whole.

*** Daily Writing Practice AND One Minute Writer ***

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