Sometimes it’s hard to know what to do, even when you know action is the only thing that can help you.
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I am frozen. I should be walking across the courtyard, past the ancient trees my great-great-grandmother planted for my wedding day, knowing they would take five generations to reach their full maturity and beauty. Her efforts were worth it; the trees line the path I’m to take, the first and last time I will walk through the courtyard.
Mine will be the only feet to touch the paving stones that were laid so many years before. Their smooth surfaces, worn down by five generations in the blessed river, will be satin under my feet. There is nothing to harm me, only empower me.
And I can’t move.
Even indecision is a choice. I know this. My spiraling mind, unable to force my legs to move because of the fear that grips me, is searching desperately for any sort of hold that it can find to push me forward. But there’s nothing.
I have been meditating my whole life to prepare myself for this wedding. My mind is blank, a pure slate for my new husband. I know only the mythology that surrounds me, my purpose to be the pure binding between my fathers nation and my husband’s. There is nothing for my mind to grip. There is nothing to move me.
I don’t understand this fear, only that it has its hands on me and that I will not move. I couldn’t even say what it is that scares me so.
I am alone.
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Dancing along The Idea, a Plot Bunny appears from the grove and is snatched up by The Author, saving it from certain death by Writer’s Block.