Fire

I was wide eyed and dim about starting high school, a big new school white polished hallways and doors the led who knows where? A scary new place filled with towering teachers, snickering students, impossible schedules, tough expectations, and endless possibilities.
The library was the only familiar place. And there was Ms. Montgomery.
"How can I help you?"
I whispered "Fantasy, please."
She smiled. "Follow me. I know just where to take you."
I followed her to places no upstanding Catholic should go.
"When you finish those I'd be happy to show you more."
Fantasy turned into darker dimensions and authors who used three whole names. By sophomore year I was deep in adult horror.
"You must try classic horror." Ms. Montgomery insisted. "There's more to life than monsters."
By my junior year, I devoured increasingly adult fare. Most, I hid under my dresser.
I began to view the world through borrowed eyes, the eyes I wanted to own. I saw that there was more than okay-it was expected-to question my little par of the planet.
I understood that I could stretch of I wanted to, explore if I dared, escape if I just put one foot in front of the other. I realised that escape might offer the only real freedom from my supposed God given roles- wife and mother of as many children as my body could bear.
Mikey way was one of the designated "hot bods" on campus. No surprise all the girls pursued him. The only surprise was my subconscious interest. I mean he was anything but a good Catholic boy. And I allegedly being a good catholic girl, was supposed to keep my feminine thoughts pure. easy enough while struggling with stacks of books, mounds of paper, and piles of adolescent angst. While chasing after a herd of siblings, each the product of lustful legally married behaviour. Easy while watching other girls chase him. But how does one keep thoughts pure while you dream.

Notes