Posting Something for the imagined category that was nearly missed this month. Since that was all I did last month (I may be wrong, I’m tired and trying to figure out which month which post was posted in is confusing me… I’m surprised i could even create that last sentence) so… a little pun/ line that has some dialogue placement possibilities
You can’t be a little rock, you’ve got to be a little boulder.
The wind at first was absent
then suddenly it came
and through its combing fingers fell
the first of frozen rain
The clouds they bloomed, they BeLLOWeD, they rolled
insulating the world under a blanket of cold.
And through it, two together, forced through the whirl
li ling world.
ng, tu st
They slipped over sidewalks
and bumped into others,
who were searching for their own, storm chasing lovers
They walked through drifts and jumped over cracked rivers
until finally sensing that something was near
they both looked at the ground and saw something appear
The frost turned to mud which looked such a mess
but again they both knew this was only a test.
They circled & crossed this area of light
and found the beginning of the end of their plight.
for it started out s l o w l y then grew as they peered
at this answer to questions resulting from fear
The clouds they shrivelled, they fractured, dispersed
allowing warmth to bake the earth, in the echoing silence
from the wind, done with tangles, as it
drifted around while the lovers sat down
in the low sun
under the tree that grew from their struggles
and ate their mud pies.
When I’m writing, I tend to need a song to help me get going. In this unit, Short Story writing, having my iPod work would be really helpful. Unfortunatly it spased and shut down completely, BUT it was able to play this song (Little Lion Man – Mumford & Sons) on repeat long enough for me to write this scene. It needs work but iPod = dead until I get enough time/remeber to plug it into the computer and clean it up, so feel free to comment and make suggestions!
I can feel the warm cement, rough and dry under my bare feet, so different from the cool shade of the Business/Apartment complexes that line the sidewalk on your right. I’m standing beside the empty lot on the corner, a bus stop covered in flyers is to my left. The broken fence is a wall of multicoloured posters, some held on with gum, barely hiding the wild growth of the empty lot. Through a missing plank I can see the remains of a dog house and a chain, vines growing over discarded popcans. Ahead of me, after crossing the road where cars gleam by, the cool shade begins again. The sheets on the cross light beside me flutter in the wind, made by the passing cars and buses, carrying the prevailing smell of exhaust, chinese and fast food restaurants, and the sweet smell of flowers from the florist on the other side of the street, which is feeling the full force of the sun. A few people walk by but it’s not too busy, nice weather for biking, the brave ones taking full advantage of the lack of cars parked along the curb, weaving through, making their own bike lanes.