PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Up here, at this height, Felicia saw the world perfectly, everything was clear.
Up here, there wasn’t a thing Felicia couldn’t do.
Her artwork covered the walls, her journals were packed with poems.
Down there, her mind went all muddy as if she were a fish swimming in flood water.
The air became thin. Noises grew louder. Her skin felt too small, itchy.
She slid along the wall when men passed by. Ran if one moved behind her.
Women? No better.
Today the scars on her back feel swollen and raw.
Each man is her father, every woman her mom.
Up From the Ashes 
Depressing. She only has her place where she feels safe.
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I think that would be far too confining but the alternative is worse. Thanks for reading!
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“She slid along the wall when men passed by” – chilling and beautifully crafted
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Thanks very much, Neil. I always appreciate your input.
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This reminds me of that phrase, “Surviving but not very well.” Nicely done.
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Yes, you’re right it does. Thanks for reading and leaving a comment.
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Her world has been robbed of hope, it seems. The desperation of her situation comes across vividly, Alicia. Well done.
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People can have such a harsh effect on one another, can’t they? Cheers, Sandra.
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That’s a very dark past she’s carrying around with her. Wonderfully written, you convey a true feeling of isolation, Alicia
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Thanks, Lynn. It’s sad how people can rob each other of hope. Alicia
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Very true. Happens all too often
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Those last lines told the complete story of why… growing up with abuse, and abuse itself… I’m actually glad that she has found a way to cope.
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Yep, me too. I think her own space is quite comforting! Thanks, Bjorn. How was your birthday?
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Surviving her abuse yet only in a confined space. So well told, Alicia!
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Thanks, Dale. Not sure why I always lead people to the darker side of life. Shoulder shrug. Glad you stopped by.
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Hey, if it ain’t broke… 😎
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Even more sad than your story is the fact that there are real people out there who have had this very real experience.
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Oh, boy, don’t I know it. I think part of the “deal” of becoming a parent is to love, respect, and protect the little ones. Thanks.
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I’m a therapist. I’ve seen the sad results of abuse at every level. You’ve described it very well.
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That’s a tough job! Thanks for being there for those that need you.
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What a horrible burden that woman bears. I like to hope that she gets the help she needs.
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Thank you, Joy.
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Sad situation but at least she has her little refuge up away from it all.
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I imagine it as very clean and bright. Thanks.
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You are one of my favourite writers ever. This was so moving.
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Oh! Louise, you have just made my day!!!! THANK YOU!
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Powerful images, I hope that her art restores her faith in life and humanity.
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Thanks, Michael. I think art in all forms, restores the spirit.
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art was her refuge. hopefully, it represented the ideal that she was aspiring for.
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Art in every form can help one heal. I truly believe that. Thanks for reading and leaving a comment.
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Is this the caged bird who sings?
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Possibly! Thanks for reading, Russell.
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Thank goodness she had an art-filled oasis. A depressing tale and so different from mine which is also about a girl called Felicia!
My story is called Stardust
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Art helps, I think. I will zip on over to read about your Felicia! Thanks.
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ouuuu, you captured the after-affects of abuse perfectly. good writing. ❤
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Thank you very much. Glad you stopped by. Alicia
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Harsh stories become more bearable when they are shared. I like the way you describe the difference point of view makes.
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Thanks, Honie. This picture seems to have brought out the dark side for many FF folks.
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Wow, this is heartbreaking. She has a tough life, has clearly survived but the scars are still clear.
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Thanks, Laurie. Perhaps she’s stronger than she thinks. Awfully glad you stopped by.
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That last line sold it, Alicia. Good capper!
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Thanks! The story started out quite differently in my mind, then Felicia took over as characters are want to do.
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This is tragically realistic. You describe her isolation so well.
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Thank you, Clare. I don’t know anyone in this position and wish that no one was.
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I liked her refuge as a haven and a perfect place that I would like for myself until, I realised it’s also her prison. I loved the line about every man’s her father, every woman her mum. (You say mom, I say mum 🙂 )
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Thanks for mentioning that line. It’s my favorite, too. I couldn’t figure out if I should mother instead of mom then thought the rhythm was better with mom.
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I could FEEL her isolation so viscerally in this piece, Lish. Very powerful! “She slid along the wall when men passed by” is chilling, and the final lines clinch it.
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Thanks, Dawn. I think that in a situation like this isolation would be the way to go… I really don’t know. I’m so glad you stopped by.
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This isn’t your usual stuff, is it?
A great description of someone who has suffered enough. Poor thing. Can she survive?
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Oh, I don’t know. Depends on my mood, I think. Thanks for reading and wondering.
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I was commiserating until those final blows.
Yow…that one packed a powerful punch!
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Thanks for reading and commenting, Dawn.
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Oh! This gripped my heart.
Thank you for sharing.
Found your blog on FF and hope you can visit mine also 🙂
– Lisa
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Thanks. I’ve seen your blog on FF and thought I’d visited. Will go back and check.
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I can’t find your story – maybe I’m blind.
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We learn why she’s so traumatized from her physical scars. It seems she survived but only “just”. Good writing, Alisha. —- Suzanne
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Thanks so much. I was hoping the scars would show what had happened.
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This is awesome.
Well done.
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Thanks.
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Coming rather late to this (sorry) but what an evocative piece! The line “Up here, there wasn’t a thing Felicia couldn’t do” says it all for me. She’s found a comfort for herself – I like that.
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Louise, better late than never and I appreciate your taking the time. I like that she found comfort, too.
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Terribly sad but then she has her art 🙂
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A nice place to escape, I think.
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Yes indeed!
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