I Must Scream

Written for https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2025/04/17/reenas-xploration-challenge-377/

I have no mouth; I must scream.

From my glass prison, I observe others. What are they doing? Each shriek of joy mingled with my self imposed loneliness is like a mask of hate. Normally, I push open the window and yell at them to stop. Today there isn’t enough energy to vacate my rigid chair.

When was the last time I ventured out into the sun? You were there, gathering daffodils for mummy’s birthday. We were going out for a meal later. A treat, so she didn’t have to cook … Holding on to my mug, the coffee has gone cold again. Not that I enjoy it hot either.

A knock snatches precious memories; I would leave it, but the noise is constant.

Shuffling towards the entrance, I pull the door across my stomach, ready to yell for the person to go away. Leave me be! A little girl shifts from toe to toe-her mates at the end of the garden, hiding behind the hedge giggle at her bravery.

‘Please, mister, can I pick some of your daffodils?’

A pathway litters with the fairy lights I planted when you were six. Before my world went dark. One year, three years, ten …

She tugs at my cardigan, a tiny dot no older than you were. ‘My mate says you are grumpy, but my daddy says you are only like that because you are lonely.’

I want to shout, but reminders of your presence are all around me. The bird box where we saved the robin still stands strong. A bright patch of yellow glows on your garden gnome, his faded pink top worn with pride.

‘Make sure you put them in water when you arrive home. They stay fresher for longer.’

‘Thank you …’

She kneels down, gently collecting each stem, folding them into a bunch. She turns, a flash of white teeth sharing a joke with the clear sky. A quick nod, she returns to the doorway.

‘Charlie says you should go out cause you’ll never grow.’

I blink and the hot tears refuse to stop. When she was stuck to an pad … it would always convince my daughter to leave. Reaching for my coat, I grab my keys off the table. ‘Tell her, daddy will buy some bread and the greedy swans won’t eat it all.’

As the gate swings in the breeze, remembering her laughter gives me fresh hope.