I wrote this for my writing class 2 months ago.
It was part of a game. My teacher gave us two sentences that had to be included ("Life is like drawing without an eraser" and "Life shrinks or expands in proportion to ones courage") and a starting sentence. Then we had to go from there.
When I got this back, he'd written "God is in the details. Great stuff"
What do you guys think?
It was part of a game. My teacher gave us two sentences that had to be included ("Life is like drawing without an eraser" and "Life shrinks or expands in proportion to ones courage") and a starting sentence. Then we had to go from there.
When I got this back, he'd written "God is in the details. Great stuff"
What do you guys think?
The bloody, new moon rose above the clouds that night as if she was walking with her nose held above the lowlifes below.
I stood out on my balcony swirling a glass of red wine in my right hand. I was just thinking, really, as I watched the waters of the apartment pool mirror the sophisticated moon.
Sipping the wine, I grimaced. I didn’t even like wine. It just felt like a drink that matched my mood. Not a romantic one. Just… melancholy.
She’d left me. Got fed-up. Couldn’t ‘handle my attitude’, as she’d put it. Apparently I was too laid back, and I had no goals. Id tried to tell her that, of course, I had goals. Everybody does, in some form or another. Mine weren’t, per say, as ambitious as hers were, so they weren’t counted.
God, she had no idea what she’d done to me when she left. What she was still doing to me. I couldn’t sleep, because all I could do was ache when I saw her empty pillow. I couldn’t eat, because all I could remember were those candlelit dinners she would surprise me with. Memory after memory would haunt and torment me.
She’d once said “Life is like drawing without an eraser. You make a mistake and you screw it all up.” I’d tried so hard not to make those mistakes.
I sipped the wine again. Disgusting. I kept hoping it would taste better if I drank more.
Heaving a sigh, I thought about my silent, empty apartment. She used to play music, every night. She liked George Gershwin the best, and would sit with her eyes closed in my old recliner, letting the crescendos and the fermatas run right through her. God, she was, if possible, more beautiful then.
I held the wine up so the light of the moon could filter through its murkiness. It looked like I’d dropped a pearl into my glass, and as it shone it made the wine lighter and…
She used to have a dress that exact same colour.
In a fit of anger I threw the glass off the balcony, and watched it sail through the night air, making a soft whistling sound as it went. The glass cart wheeled as the wine stumbled blindly on its decent to Earth.
They both landed in the pool, one making a delicate splash while the latter slapped the water rather insensitively. The wine floated on the surface for a minute, as if Moses had left a piece of the Nile in the chlorine, then slowly dissipated as the jets stirred the water.
“Life shrinks or expands in proportion to ones courage.” Another thing she’d said a lot. She’d had a hundred of those little sayings tucked away in her gorgeous head. I’d never really understood that one. When I asked her, she’d laughed and told me I was silly.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, and closed my eyes, thinking of her. When I did this, I could still feel my fingers run through her hair, her breath on my neck.
She’d always smelled like vanilla, no matter what.
Then I looked at the moon, and cursed it. Somewhere out there, she was probably watching the moon too, bathing in its light. The moon got to see her, but I was denied that pleasure.
Oh, to taste her skin again, tell her that I would change, that I did have goals and plans for the future, ones with her in it. Anything to get her back.
She may as well have just cut my heart out and taken it with her when she left; that’s what it already felt like anyway.
I looked back at the pool again, and felt bad for tossing the glass in. It would probably break and hurt someone. Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes…
