Glass #theprompt

In part, she couldn’t remember how she had got here. It has been a wondering, meandering morning. The hub-bub of the busy world going on around her seemed distant. Like that funny thing that happens on a plane when your ears are about to pop. Softly anaesthetised to the noise. She hadn’t noticed a single human face in the crowds, they were just a mass of movement, some brighter than others or faster or even more frustratingly…slower.

It has started that morning, her wonderings. She had decided that instead of dwelling and mulling and sitting in her thoughts like a shallow, tepid, paddling pool in the summer.  She would walk. She had read somewhere that exercise was good, improved the brain or something, Lifted your spirits and gave you some direction. So she thought she would try.

At first her feet had seemed to be trying to work against her like awkward toddlers. She couldn’t seem to find her stride, a rythmn that worked. She stumbled, grabbing onto a gate post for stability. She feared this was a bad idea. Anxiety started to build. She stood, steadied herself and breathed slowly. What had that therapist said? Focus. Breathe. Forward. She stifled a laugh as she repeated it slowly to herself..what a load of psycho-bumble crap she mused. But nevertheless she followed her script. Breathe. Slowly she felt her heart rate dropping, she could hear it in her ears, quietly thudd thudd thudd. breathe.

She stood tall and walked away from the safety of the gate posts and railing and set off towards the street. Now she felt confident and started to lift her head and think about where she was actually going to go. She paused briefly at a crossroads and then as sure footed as ever she turned and made her way across the street, thronging with tourists and up a small, cobbled street with old fashioned tin signs jauntily pointing towards little open doors. The shops that were in this little secret street where tiny and quirky. They sold little random trinkets, teas from far away lands, handmade papers and little fat budda models all sitting happily alongside some of the most gaudy, tourist junk you might have seen.

But she had loved these streets. Their crooked doorways and bumpy paths. She used to come here so often before the crippling anxiety ground away at her soul and her self belief. She had felt free then. What had happened, where had that person gone?  She shook her head, as if to throw those thoughts to the floor. She was not to be swayed. She had focus. She was moving forward.

At the end of the lane was a small building, a chapel of sorts. Barely noticeable in a city full of grandure. Small and unobtrusive and tucked away. Not many people came. There were no queues, no twinkling, heavy, donation boxes. Just a comforting stillness. She passed by the little elderly volunteer at the entrance dropping some coins into the old, frayed edged collection plate on the table. The lady glanced up at her, smiled and nodded toward the inside door.

She walked further into the little chapel, there was nothing special about the inside really. Rows of pews with edges rounded off and smooth now from the centuries. Battered copies of songs of praise stood stoically in the pocket of each pew. Like soldiers waiting for the call to battle. The air was so cool in here. The light flickered, bursting in through small windows like blasts of a light saber.  Her hand brushed over the smooth wood  as she walked to the front of the little room and turned slightly into the tiny vestry.

This tiny, un-noticeable room was dark save for the brightest shaft of light coming from one side. As her eyes adjusted, she began to see it. For the light was coming through the most buried of treasures, hidden from the world but radiant in its magic and glory. A seven foot tall stained glass window that threw colour across the room like a fountains, hitting the darkness, waking it up and dancing through the little, sad and battered pews. She drank it in for a moment watching the suns rays pirouette and tumble over the dark. Staring at the window she remembered how much she had loved the image portrayed there. A mother and her child, a baby bouncing on a knee, gurgling, giggling, bringing hope. She felt at home there.

She sat on one of the gnarly pew ends, shifting a little from cheek to cheek to find a comfortable spot. Time passed..thudd thudd thudd….

In the distance she could hear the faint sound of people passing by, a musician bravely busking along to an old Beatles song that she had once loved. She felt calm. She laughed, it echoed around the room. Clasping her hand to her face like a naughty schoolgirl she glanced around quickly. The little old lady from the entrance must have followed her, as she was standing at the entrance to the vestry watching her.

The lady smiled at her, a knowing smile. Holding her gaze for a moment and then slowly lifted her bony hand in a little wave and turned to go.

She turned back to face the window, stopping for a moment, as if the realisation of how she got here finally dawned on her. She had done it.

Focus. Breathe. Forward.