The Things That Harm Us by Joseph Seta

 

 

silhouette_1            I have no idea where we are headed. Peering around the rugged roads as they ascend what appears to be a mountain, a trio of birds descends before us whilst the glimmering sun slowly rises behind us. I imagine that we are revisiting a childhood memory, and suddenly my blood pressure begins to elevate. “Get out,” I say to myself as the old man drives way too fast towards the crest. “Get the hell out,” I wish I could have said. Yet, curiosity trumps my irrational fear, for I know I have never been here. Perhaps my fear of the unknown is the reason I signed up for this – to confront memories that have cursed me into mental bondage.  Continue reading