All tagged creativewriting
“Life was quite lonely at first as a wall. Sure, I was accompanied by the specks of dust that hung tightly onto the little mishaps in the paint job, but it wasn't much. They never said anything to me, only focused on tightly holding onto me so that they wouldn't fall down to the floor. I can't quite tell how long I lived like this, nor do I really want to remember it in the first place. You know how awfully lonely being lonely can get, don't you?”
“A large shadow appeared on the other side of the fire. A big, black shape nearing the villagers from the forest. No one moved. The shaman stood in front of me, still holding my hand, looking at me with those eyes that could not see. The shadow in the forest got closer and closer, and then, at last, I saw him.”
Spring has arrived at last. This winter was longer than those of years long past. This winter was cold and dark. I was alone. I was afraid. But not to worry, spring is here, winter is over. Oh, maybe this year I’ll find a four leaf clover, my dear.
[Begin apocalypse log #59]
Date = corrupted
Battery = <35%
!!Error = Left limb status non-functional, contact maintenance
Log purpose = “I love the small one for offering mouth storage items to the quiet one. Showcasing human emotion.”
Video = active Sound = active Speech = disabled
Autumn leaves waltz on the melancholic floor while I straighten Veronique’s hat. I give her a kiss on the forehead and tighten my grip on her tiny fingers that always radiate intense heat for the whole world to feel.
She was brought up by the seaher mind was the ocean...
Fay felt something tighten around her chest.“I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard music”, Nicole whispered from somewhere far away.
My hands are sweaty,
My heart beats too fast (not fluttering like the wings of a bird but
thumping like stones being thrown into water).
The sneeze-like sensation warms up your long-time memory and drowns your consciousness in expired feelings. The voyage of déjà-vu can take you from overwhelming happiness to sinking sadness in a couple of seconds. It acquaints you with your memories afresh, releasing what I am addicted to: nostalgia.
The scent of the pages of fifty-year-old booksup in the cold
up,
Your breaths twirling up,