Many of us walk through life wondering what would happen if we truly spoke our minds. If we honestly answered that questions, “Does this make me look fat?” We may even have pretend conversations with ourselves, telling that certain person just how we really feel. We reflect back on past encounters or confrontations and realize all the things we should have said but never did.

I spend my days with a constant filter. Deliberately screening my every thought, mindfully choosing my words. I am careful not to inflict harm and cautious to never speak the truth. This filter forces me to exchange daily pleasantries with people I loathe. It constrains me to tolerate their lying grins, their backstabbing ways. I am always on guard, buffering all information to protect my soul. I try to come across as intrigued to buffer the fact that I am truly disdained by their utter existence.

Now, imagine trying something new. Envision a day where there is no filter. Where every word, thought and pondering flows freely from your lips. Imagine a day where we are no longer bound by social convictions, restricted by our inner ego. Imagine a day when our id rules our conscious, no longer bound by responsibility. I wonder just how the world would react to such freedom.

What is the first thing you would say?

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, SAM challenged me with “Try something new.” and I challenged Dim Dom with “Write from the point of view of a virus about to infect an important document.”

The booming voice on the microphone became muffled as I shut the bathroom door behind me. My heart was racing in my chest and it took everything in me to not have a complete and utter breakdown.

I walked over to the sink and turned on the cold water. As I looked in the mirror I hardly recognized the person staring back at me. My face was pale with beads of sweat trickling down my hairline. “Seriously man, get a grip“, I said to the pathetic reflection staring back at me.

I knew I only had a few more minutes before they were going to begin the awards ceremony and I wanted to make sure I was in my seat before they dimmed the lights. Tonight was the culmination of my life’s work and I was not going to miss my big moment. Countless hours of research, days upon days away from my family, holed up in my office till I found the ‘perfect’ chemical combination. Tonight, the ultimate prize was mine.

I quickly splashed some water on my face and turned off the faucet. When I turned to grab a hand towel I heard the distinct sound of a dead bolt sliding into place.

Well that’s weird, I thought as I tossed my crumpled towel in the garbage can. I quickly ran my hand through my hair and straightened my tie. Now’s my time to shine!

I pulled on the door handle but the door didn’t budge. I tugged and yanked with all my might, but each time my pull was met with resistance. “What the……”  I began frantically tugging at the door handle. What is going on? Why won’t this door open??

Outside I heard the ceremony music begin to play. NO! This can’t be happening! I began to pound on the door. “Help! Somebody please help me!”

The music was too loud and was drowning out my pleas and I was sure everyone was already back in their seats. How could this be happening? Why now? After everything I have done to get here.

I turned and slid my back down the door till I hit the floor with a thud. As I rested my head in my hands I heard the president our company begin his introduction – MY introduction. I sat and listened as he went on and on about my research, my discoveries, my progress for the human race. When he announced my name it was welcomed with silence, or at least I thought. His next words hit me like a punch in the groin. “Since Jack had to leave unexpectedly and will unable to accept his award this evening, his assistant Tim has graciously offered to accept on his behalf.”

And with that, everything became clear.

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Trencher challenged me with “A character is locked in a bathroom at the worst possible time. ” and I challenged Melissa with “Create a story or poem inspired by a line in a Charles Bukowski poem: “some suicides are never recorded.”".

The sounds of children splashing in the lake woke me from my afternoon siesta. I leisurely opened one eye, not ready to commit to being fully awake. The midday sun was pleasantly toasting my back and lulling me back into my state of slumber. Oh how I love lazy July afternoons. Nothing to do but bask in the sun and enjoy an afternoon nap or two.

Being in this position too long had begun to make me feel stiff and achy. I gingerly stretched one leg, and then the other, before resituating myself back into my comfortable position.

The wind rustling through the trees made the sunlight dance between the leaves. I sat mesmerized, watching their performance. Entranced by their movements I began to feel myself swaying to their rhythm, lost in my own world.

WHAM

Suddenly without warning I was grabbed from behind. I tried to struggle. I tried to break free, but every time I did his grasp tightened. I was carried for a while before being thrust into some sort of rectangular compartment. I tried again to escape but he was too strong. He pushed me back down and shut the top.

Everything surrounding me was dark. I fumbled around, trying to get my bearings. I frantically felt around the insides of my confines, hoping to find the opening so I could escape. The confines had not left me much room, making it difficult to brace myself during the sudden jolts inflicted by the bumpy ride.

After what seemed like hours we came to a stop. I could hear the muffled voices outside getting louder and louder and I knew he was coming for me. A sudden shift in my confines had me sliding down to the bottom of the box. The top lifted and sunlight streamed into my face. I tried to adjust my eyes when I began falling through the air.

My arms and legs were trying to reach out and grab anything that might possibly break my fall. I landed with a thud. Dazed, I looked around to assess the situation. This new confinement was different. While I could not get out, I could see the outside world.

His big eyes peered in at me as he tapped against the side of my new surroundings my new surroundings. As I attempted to gaged how high my new prison walls went, a shower of green grass sprinkled from above.

“I’m gonna name you Mantis.” He tightened the lid, sealing my fate.

For the IndieInk WritingChallenge this week, Kurt challenged me with “And if you cut yourself, you will think you’re happy. He’ll keep you in a jar, then you’ll make him happy. He’ll give you breathing holes, then you’ll think you’re happy. He’ll cover you with grass, then you’ll think you’re happy, now.” -Kurt Cobain, “Sappy.” and I challenged Tara with “If I could accomplish one more thing, I would…“.

I pulled my feet under the blanket, careful not to disturb Piper. While he was quite old for a cat, he still would playfully bite wiggling toes when given the chance. Perturbed with my movement, he took great care as he resituated himself atop my blanket, snuggling closer and looking for warmth.

The late morning sun was slowly beginning to break through the foggy haze left over from last night’s storm. I was enjoying the slow start that the dark morning provided as I sunk into my favorite chair with a cup of hot coffee, Piper and a good book. The downed trees had taken out the phone lines leaving me, a morning without interruption.

A rumbling in my stomach reminded me that I had not yet had breakfast. I gently placed Piper on the floor and plodded my way to the kitchen. As I opened the fridge I was faced with little choice. With a sigh I grabbed two eggs, an avocado, some sharp cheddar and three small tomatoes. Omelettes it is!

With the days of rushing out the door, long days at the office and scarfing down fast food on the run behind me, I took solace in the comfort that cooking brought me. Who says mental burnout is a bad thing! Its stark, slap in the face reality was exactly what I needed to reevaluate my life.

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Reinaldo Martinez challenged me with “Use the following words and terms in your post: morning, burnout, book, avocado, cat” and I challenged Leslie with “Use this cliche anywhere in your writing: burn the midnight oil“.