by Alicia Evans
She was ridiculous in the way that spinning until you're sick is ridiculous, but you do it because it's fun and it makes you laugh when you live in an unfunny world. Most days, she would get ahead of herself; always moving towards something that no one else could see, but something she was convinced was there. They told her she was irresponsible; chasing dreams and shadows as if something solid would come of it, so they locked her away in the attic. The other sister wept though she knew their intentions were good; but she also knew that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. The attic was drafty and it smelled like mold and beautiful beginnings gone terribly wrong. They sat her by the small port window facing a concrete wall and gave her a sheet of paper, a pen running out of ink and told her to write a beginning.
Alicia Evans is a mother of one, pregnant with her second child. She's actively pursuing a writing career and balancing motherhood, life, and everything else in between. She blogs here.