(Josie Sayz: The, below, flash fiction piece, is
a thought that arose in my mind, this morning, while suffering from a PTSD of separation
anxiety. This piece is written from my ‘Jane Chronicles’ characters story series.
Please note, the character of Peter Pan and Jane are copyright the Great Ormond
Street Children’s Hospital, in the UK, and ‘Disney’ in America.)
Hundreds of bodies swarmed the city centre. Bobbing to-and-fro, they became a
blur, bumbling about, navigating to their place of work. Amongst the sea of
black business suits and blazers, a red head followed the flow of people.
Imagining the birds-eye-view of the scene around her unfolding, the red head
realised that she had become lost in the crowd. Her heart sank to her stomach.
'Years ago, I would have hated the thought of blending in with everyone, like
this,' she thought to herself, with a deflated sigh. As she began her morning
laps around the cathedral, a strange memory popped into her head, of a
conversation she had had a long time ago, with someone she thought she had
forgotten about.
“All office workers are boring," said the voice of Peter Pan in her brain. "All they do is work and sleep. They have no hobbies. They don't go anywhere or do anything with themselves, and they are always so drained. Bah! I'd hate to live a life like that, wouldn't you, Jane?" Hearing Peter's words in her head, Jane's intestines began to churn, and her chest grew tight. Peter's words had come true. Dark circles formed beneath Jane's eyes, and no matter how many times she tried, Jane struggled to keep her posture straight. Her hairline was also receding, having fallen out through stress. The inner corners of Jane's eyes stung, as she sniffed, trying to remember the last time she had the mental energy to do anything for herself.
Speed walking around the cathedral, Jane glared ahead, as she strode through the pavement's centre guttering. 'Even the walking I do, I no longer do for me, anymore. It is all for the cult of a workplace that I have joined.' Jane felt her shoulders droop, as she acknowledged the person that she had become. She had forgotten how to be creative. She had forgotten how to have fun. Despite her best efforts, Jane had grown up.
- Josie -
