Writing

And there it was once again. The rhythmic dripping of water falling from the ceiling into one of the countless puddles that lay on the ground all around. Once again it had pierced through my focus allowing the thoughts I’d corralling to escape back into the the either. As that initial frustration passed, I couldn’t help but chuckle at how something as small as a drop of water could be so disruptive.

I sat for a moment longer deliberating the benefits of getting up verses remaining seated, but it was too late. My senses were slowly awakening and along with that every fibre of my being began to voice its desire to move in it’s own way with each letting out a sigh of relief as I began to move. During the chorus of groans, clicks and cracks my bladder had decided its contents wished to be as free as the dripping water which had disturbed me.

Rising to my feet, my thoughts continued to roam wild freed from whatever captivity I’d held them in previously. I found myself thinking about a the town festival one warm summers day when I was barely six summers old. I didn’t fight the memory. I remembered walking from stall to stall, high on excitement as I chatted away frantically with my friend every so often shouting back an acknowledgement that I’d heard what my parents had been said. We spent the day playing games, eating and watching the other villagers dance away. I couldn’t help but smile as the memories came flowing back.

Once more my attention was snapped back to the present by the rhythmic dripping, which was no longer competing with the sound of my emptying bladder. It was almost time to begin to continue onwards.

After a quick swig from my water skin, replacing some of the water I’d just lost, I patted myself down making sure everything was where it should be. All my belts, buckles and laces were tight, but I seemed to have picked up a couple of hitchhikers who’d tucked themselves into the folds of my cloak during my break. Setting them down I gave my pack a once over making sure no one else was looking for a free ride and using that as an excuse to check it’s contents more throughly.

At least that’s what I told myself. But I think if I was being honest, I was just trying to put off continuing my journey. Delving into a labyrinth of connected underground tunnels sounds like a great idea when you’re sat staring out across golden fields, rolling hills and distant mountains, as the hot summer sun shines down on you. Enjoying a moments peace and daydreaming about what lies beyond what you can see. But down here in the dark with only the luminous stones faint glow your only source of light, you begin to fantasies about those lazy days in the field.

Still, I think I can afford to lose myself in my daydreams a little longer. The labyrinth isn’t going anywhere, and I’m not either.