Where Wild Women Are Born
A Microfiction Monday Story
Where do wild women come from? The kind that rattle the air with defiance and stare with purpose-filled eyes before tearing down your world. They seem to spring out of nowhere, don’t they? You had just set down a meek, obedient girl for a moment, only to return to a vengeful goddess demanding reparations. It’s enough to make anyone wonder.
Come with me. I'll show you where they're born.
We're going to a forest at the heart of everything. That it's in the center of the world should make it easy to find, but you’d be surprised just how many people ignore what matters most. Even if you know where to look, it takes a great deal to get there.
First you must wade into the waters of expectation and drown yourself in others’ need. You must believe in their insistence so much you give yourself to it.
You'll awake on other side of this river, coughing up standards that no longer suit you. When air fills your lungs you must run. Run faster than you ever have, because hands will spring from the ground to claim your body. It is theirs, they demand.
If you make it to the forest you will find it calm and quiet. You will be naked, clothes ripped clean off you by the hands, but you finally feel safe in the nudity. You drowned and were reborn into a fight that you just won. You relish in this holy vessel. You know that it contains a resilient soul. Because you love both, you retreat to a hollow tree and in the heart of everything you rest.
Rage awakens you. Your softened heart alights with anger that you should have this peace only after suffering and that others will meet the same fate. So you burst from the tress and go out into the world that wrought you. Taking your revenge on greedy hands, drying a river of expectation and extinguishing all that came before.
Now you know where wild women come from; you are one too.
This story was written as part of a visual writing prompt project I started on Instagram. Each week I offer an image to spark stories and poetry. I make sure to always share a response of my own. They’re short; micro-fiction, really. Still, they’re stories I put energy into so I’m giving them a home here as part of a microfiction series. I hope you enjoy.
Have I forced you to read Women Who Run With the Wolves yet? Because this reminds me of it ♥️