Seeking Solitude

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: The Imaginarium
Another story inspired by Reaper's prompt challenge at the Imaginarium House, this time about intentionally trying to find solitude.
Cover image: pixabay.com

Submitted: June 08, 2019

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Submitted: June 08, 2019

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Seeking Solitude

Greg slammed out of the door and he ran. He might just about make it to the bus if it was late as usual. He hoped, and hoped, and pushed himself onwards. He HAD to escape the crescendo of noise.

His brothers were fighting, his older sister was yelling at their mother and his father was shouting at them all to ‘SHUT UP!’ Greg could not stand it a moment longer; he felt like he would pass out from the stress of it.

The bus was just pulling away as he ran towards the stop. Greg waved it down and climbed on board. Money? He scrabbled in his pocket, pulling out just enough change to cover a one-way journey. He’d worry about getting back if and when he decided to return.

Even through the rumbling of the engine, the chatter of the other passengers, he could still hear the raised voices of his family. The shouts reverberated through his head, echoed through his mind. Greg had to get away from them and find some solitude.

He knew just where to go. The cliffs, the rocks well away from the beach. There was rarely anyone else around there, and as he climbed from the bus, walked along the path, he saw that he was in luck. Peace! A few distant voices rising from the sands somewhere below, cries of gulls, but no shouting, no screaming, no throwing of insults and hurling abuse.

Greg sat there with his head forward, feeling the stress flowing through his mind, his veins, then he flung back his head and let it go. For a while he just sat there, watching the waves ebbing and flowing. The sea was not rough and there was something very calming about the sight, the sounds. Slowly but surely the echoing voices retreated.

Would any of them have missed him yet? Possibly, but there’d be no panic; he was almost nineteen and they were used to him coming and going. Of course, this time he’d not planned it out properly. He’d gone too far to walk back but did not have the money on him to pay the bus fare, not even part of it.

No one knew where he went when he was seeking solitude and he wanted to keep it that way. His phone was in his pocket. He pulled it out, checked the power. There was a bit of battery there, but no signal, not on the cliffs.

Greg stood, took one last glance at the sea and then reluctantly turned away. He’d walk, not all the way but just to the next town, then he’d phone his Dad, ask for a ride. If, and only if, there were no raised voices to be heard in the background.

 


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