Beyond the Cage

There he stands,

trapped within his own world,

peering through iron bars,

gazing at the open, endless sky—

bitterness and hatred filling his heart.

“Why?” he cries.

“Let me go, you prison!”

His voice, heavy with rage and sorrow,

echoes through the hollow walls.

“How cruel you are, to lock me away

while the world runs free!”

But the prison only whispers back:

“I do no evil, I cast no chains.

It is not I who holds you—

but the whispers you heeded at noon,

the watchmen you feared at night.”

“Your thoughts are your prison walls,

your mind the warden of your fate.

The bars were never locked,

yet you remain caged,

blinded by the weight of your own belief.”

But now, the dawn has come.

The shadows have lifted.

Gone are the days of hatred and fear,

for he sees with new eyes.

“I am free.”

No longer bound by the voices of doubt,

no longer shackled by the fear of judgment.

The world was never closed—

he had only to step beyond his mind.

And now, he walks forward,

light in his heart,

joy in his steps,

at last—unchained.

********************************************************************************

Stacy hummed softly, her head swaying from side to side as she scrubbed the plates. Every so often, her eyes flicked toward the pot simmering on the stove. The warm aroma of curry, thyme, and fried pepper filled the air, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

I need to finish these plates before my stew burns, she thought, quickening her pace. Her humming grew louder, her hands working with practiced efficiency.

The sharp trill of her phone cut through the rhythm of her humming. Stacy paused, her brow furrowing as the sound echoed from the dining room. With a sigh, she yanked a towel off the kitchen counter, drying her damp hands in quick, impatient strokes. She made her way to the dining table, picked up the phone, and squinted at the unfamiliar number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” she answered. Her eyes darted back to the kitchen, unconsciously tracking the pot.

“Hello, Mrs Adler. This is Jamsie from Luke’s Hospital,” a woman’s voice said on the other end.

Stacy’s stomach twisted. She nodded, though Jamsie couldn’t see her. “Okay,” she replied, forcing her voice to stay even as she stepped back toward the kitchen.

I hope my stew is almost done…

“Mr Adler is in our hospital,” Jamsie continued, her words halting Stacy mid-step.

A chill prickled the back of Stacy’s neck. “Steven?” she whispered, her forehead creasing. She gripped the phone tighter as Jamsie hesitated.

“Mr Adler…” Jamsie stuttered.

“Is what?” Stacy demanded, her voice sharp, though it wavered with an edge of panic. Her heart thudded against her ribs as dread began to coil in her chest.

“He… He had an accident,” Jamsie’s voice shook. “And now… he’s gone.”

The phone slipped slightly in Stacy’s hand. “Gone?” she repeated, the word catching in her throat.

Is she talking about my Steven?

Her mind pulled her back to the morning. She could still see him descending the stairs, his joggers hugging his lean legs, his white T-shirt fresh and bright. He greeted her with his signature grin, arms outstretched for an embrace. His kiss had been warm, lingering just enough to make her heart flutter.

“I’ll be back before noon, Stacy,” he had said. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

The sound of the front door closing softly behind him replayed in her mind like a haunting refrain. Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall. Seven-thirty.

It’s past noon…

The phone trembled in her hand. The morning’s soft thud of the door now felt like a thunderous bang reverberating in her skull.

Was that goodbye?

“No,” she said into the phone, her head shaking as if to erase the nurse’s words. “No. My husband will be home soon. He… he can’t leave me. I trust him.”

Smoke suddenly invaded her senses, acrid and sharp. Her eyes darted to the stove. The pot was glowing red-hot, thick black smoke spiraling into the kitchen.

“Mrs Adler,” Jamsie’s voice came again, filled with pity. “I’m so sorry.”

The kitchen doorframe became Stacy’s lifeline as the world spun around her. Her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the floor.

“No… No…” she choked, her voice cracking as the phone slipped from her hand. Tears blurred her vision, streaming down her face in hot, relentless rivulets.

The pot hissed angrily. And smoke filled the room, curling around Stacy like a suffocating blanket. She coughed, her chest tightening as her breaths grew shallow and labored.

Steven… I have to find you… Her mind screamed, but her body was frozen, unresponsive. She willed her legs to move, but they stayed rooted to the cold, hard floor.

Her eyes burned, the sting of smoke forcing her to shut them tight. Tears seeped out, carving tracks down her cheeks.

It’s over now… Everything… Everything is over, she thought, She was losing consciousness as everything around her faded into darkness.

Thanks for reading.

🌟 Welcome, dear reader! 🌟

Thank you for giving Flame a chance! This story is close to my heart, a journey of buried dreams, love, and healing through connection.

✨ I’ll be updating every Monday and Saturday, so don’t forget to follow for new chapters!

This story is also a learning step for me, and I’d really appreciate your thoughts and feedback. Your support—whether a read, comment, or heart—keeps this flame burning.

With gratitude,

Oyinade Olawoyin 🌸