I gazed through a gap in my curtains, at the silhouettes and twinkling streetlamps.
It was too late to be awake after the weekend I’d had.
My prominant fatigue was a grim reminder for me to go to sleep, yet it kept my brain buzzing with a desperate urge.
I sat upright in bed, writing in a small black notebook as an attempt to relax.
Oh how fustrating it was that my most tired hours were early evening at best.
A while ago I was in the school library with a couple of friends, at lunch, to do some creative writing. We each picked a season to write about, and I picked Winter. I know, it’s a bit cliché but I enjoyed doing this tiny prose and so I thought I would post it.
Delicate snowflakes eddyed from the ash sky and melted on her eyelashes. A crown of glistening droplets adorned her baby hairs as she trudged through the snow. Her cheeks and nose were rosy and freckled, her countenance solumn- yet she was content trampling crystalline ice over white hills. Miles of this frozen landscape dipped and rised, with a trail of footprints fading behind the girl.
Stumbling, panting, aching. My legs and shoulders burned from an excruciating weight. The waves thrashing at my tear gates did not extinguish the fire, but sent billows of potent smoke into the air which choked and blinded me. I heard a twig snap ahead, and peered through the haze to make out the shape of one of my teammates. She turned around rolling her eyes, “Hurry up Flo,” she sighed “we’re almost there.” They were losing their patience so I didn’t ask for a break. Insecurities engulfed my ego, my positivity, exclusion inundated my brain, my countenance.
As you may have guessed, I enjoy writing short pieces. This is a snippet of one I wrote about a recent experience. Hope you enjoyed
Midges hovered in the air as the sun started to set. I thought they looked like dancing fairies. Watching them as I sat, picking grass and carelessly flinging it across the garden, I felt rather languorous. It was a mild summer evening, the sky cesious-grey and made of layers of bunched cotton wool. The blue sky peeking through these clouds ran along the scene in fluffy cracks. The grass was yellowing at this point in the season, yet our raspberry bushes had started to produce ripe incarnadine berries. Like the rest of my family I thoroughly enjoyed indulging in these, they never lasted long. Laying down in the greenery, admiring my surroundings, I was soothed by the dulcet sound of chirping birds. Gazing up at the vast sky I smiled, and decided to go in for the night.
I’m trying to improve my writing by practicing a lot. This paragraph is just me attempting to get better, so feel free to give me constructive criticism :)) Thanks for reading.