Author Information
Short Story
Folder:
Old Writings
There she sat. Her tongue blistered, and her eyes piercing the bodies that filled her frame. There was no judgment in her glare, only observation. A young child a couple feet away danced and hummed, enclosed within the bubble that is in the eyes of the small—innocence. A loss of insecurity, self-doubt, and hesitantion—a fluttering stream. Someone else in her field of view, a man, about age 22, sits to the left a little ways off. Under investigation she sees ruffles in his eyes. His limbs lie timid. His mannerisms lead to slight jerks of his fingers and feet. A heavy breath feeds his chest; it grows and collapses like a wave crashing on the rocks at night with no one around to take note. Peering at the rosy colored lips of this man, she discovers scarce movement—a murmuring of some kind. Looking to his head, she imagines she can peer inside to the network that scurries around. This leads her taste buds to sizzle with curiosity and deficiency. All of a sudden a women's voice comes blowing in from the right, stealing away the study she had commenced. A couple words enter her ears, something about last nights scandalous and promiscuous endeavors. With gossip wavering between the women and her friend, disinterest brings the girl back to her self. Closing her eyes now, she pictures the similarities between the array of personalities accompanying her. She peels back the layers of each individual and herself, connecting the primitive nature of each one. Time passes and leads to the trailing off of feet, as well as to her own departure back home. Stars came out of hiding and shine the way they always do, and each soul continues to embark on their own. The girl, now lying in her freshly washed bedsheets, pulls them up to her nose and inhales. The smell of laundry crashes in and soothes her like a cup of wine. As she slowly sways into slumber she recalls the crowd from earlier that day. She lets her thoughts linger with them. As she sinks deeper into the cushioning of her mattress, these thoughts slowly dissipate and freely run along—running and running along, she climbs up to the contents of her dreams. For a narrow amount of time she enters a foreign, but always familiar, world. Until once again, the sun reappears through her window, scarcely reaching her eyelids, reawakening her alert and agile mind.
Sorry moonchild !! I just made it easier to read..... trying to
There she sat. Her tongue blistered, and her eyes piercing the bodies that filled her frame. There was no judgment in her glare, only observation. A young child a couple feet away danced and hummed, enclosed within the bubble that is in the eyes of the small—innocence. A loss of insecurity, self-doubt, and hesitantion—a fluttering stream. Someone else in her field of view, a man, about age 22, sits to the left a little ways off. Under investigation she sees ruffles in his eyes. His limbs lie timid. His mannerisms lead to slight jerks of his fingers and feet. A heavy breath feeds his chest; it grows and collapses like a wave crashing on the rocks at night with no one around to take note. Peering at the rosy colored lips of this man, she discovers scarce movement—a murmuring of some kind. Looking to his head, she imagines she can peer inside to the network that scurries around. This leads her taste buds to sizzle with curiosity and deficiency. All of a sudden a women's voice comes blowing in from the right, stealing away the study she had commenced. A couple words enter her ears, something about last nights scandalous and promiscuous endeavors. With gossip wavering between the women and her friend, disinterest brings the girl back to her self. Closing her eyes now, she pictures the similarities between the array of personalities accompanying her. She peels back the layers of each individual and herself, connecting the primitive nature of each one. Time passes and leads to the trailing off of feet, as well as to her own departure back home. Stars came out of hiding and shine the way they always do, and each soul continues to embark on their own. The girl, now lying in her freshly washed bedsheets, pulls them up to her nose and inhales. The smell of laundry crashes in and soothes her like a cup of wine. As she slowly sways into slumber she recalls the crowd from earlier that day. She lets her thoughts linger with them. As she sinks deeper into the cushioning of her mattress, these thoughts slowly dissipate and freely run along—running and running along, she climbs up to the contents of her dreams. For a narrow amount of time she enters a foreign, but always familiar, world. Until once again, the sun reappears through her window, scarcely reaching her eyelids, reawakening her alert and agile mind.
©bishu