She was restless. . .

Friday's writing prompt was: She was restless. . .

She was restless and fidgety, staring out the window as the rain pelted against the glass. The walls were closing in, slow and steady, trapping her. “When would this damn rain ever let up?”

Jane raked fingers through tangled hair as she paced the wooden floor on her bare feet. The thump of her feet against cold floorboards broke the monotonous sound of rain drumming against the metal roof. Oh, how she hated being cooped up indoors for days. It made her feel like a caged animal. Only it wasn’t an animal keeper holding her in, it was Mother Nature.

“Mother Nature, my ass,” she muttered, curling her fingers and fisting her hands at her sides.

“Rain, rain, go away!” Jane demanded beating her head against the rain-splattered window. “Please, I have got to get out of this prison.”

She could handle being inside for one, maybe two days, but beyond that, she wanted, no needed escape. She needed fresh air, the grass under her feet, tickling between her toes, and dirt. Jane loved digging, getting dirty, planting her flowers because she loved the end result. With the vision of her garden in her mind, she would work from dusk ‘til dawn in her yard then come inside exhausted, filthy, and drop down to her floor, arms out to her sides and sigh with satisfaction. Satisfied because she had taken one step closer to seeing that colorful rainbow of tulips, daffodils, mums, lilies, hydrangea, lilacs in the flesh and not just a faded glow in her dreams.

Being cooped up inside only made her think. She could not focus on anything because niggling little thoughts crept inside her head. She could not take a nap, not because she didn’t want to, but because her body would not let her relax and settle. That and the minute she closed her eyes her mind would start playing images like old movies in her head. Jane shuddered. She did not want to go there.