I don’t mind being alone. I actually like it quite a bit–not all the time, obviously, but going for a long bike ride or walk by myself can be refreshing. I’m abnormally busy because I give myself too many things for one mere human to accomplish, but forcing myself out of the house with nothing to do but bike or walk s one of the few times I ever just let my brain do its thing without trying to force it into doing something else.
When I was a kid, I’d spend most of my wandering time imagining I was somewhere else. Sometimes the places I imagined were versions of my favorite books. On one memorable occasion, I thought of a very detailed scheme in which I’d end up in one of the most horrifying stories from Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. Being alone has its merits, though not ones I want to experience all the time.
I’m going to be at PAX next week, where I will most certainly not be alone. I plan on writing a convention diary for Women Write About Comics, but I’m probably not (definitely not) going to write a drabble. Even I have my limits.
Anyway, here’s a drabble.
(Adjective) From Latin solus – for ‘alone’ + vagans for ‘wandering’
She wanders the forest alone. She does everything alone. She has heard nothing for years but the sound of wind through branches and the babble of rivers. Birds fly away at her presence, their wingbeats fading before they reach her ears. Maybe the forest is infinite. Maybe not.
In all these years, she still has not come to love silence.
On her back is a sword she polishes daily. It doesn’t matter that she never meets anybody who might want to harm her; you never know when a curse will break, when something worse will come to meet you halfway.