Tag: prose

The beach

Shimmering bodies dance in blue, like ladies in a musical. Sand like sprinkles on an iced cake, blankets on top like cherries. Clouds like cotton candy one day, other times menacing grins. Skies of different colours, changing with my mood. Drifting with the waves, the atmosphere moved. Chaos blending in harmony to create what can only be known as the beach.

The Queen of arguments

Arguments flaring with no real fuel, setting alight figurative buildings for the sake of ones enjoyment. The opponents coming with a spread of answers and questions to throw in her direction. Alas, my Queen, she may fall this time if her sharp tongue does not sneer in the right way, or if her words are mellowed and empty. My fair Queen, do not revel … Read More The Queen of arguments

Talking

Talking, but the words I utter dissolve before making an impact. Singing, but my melodies are background noise, not payed attention to. Crying, but emotion doesn’t slice into the hearts of onlookers; instead, they watch on as though my pain were merely an ant on a leaf. Dancing, but my feet are numb, stepping in a rhythmic yet dull patter; a pattern that goes … Read More Talking

The Perfect oven

Original Short Story By Sofia,
Tasmania, 2020

Fake friends

Falling. Waiting for the moment when someone catches you and embraces you in a warm manner. But that moment doesn’t come. You’re left struggling. You’re left to pick up the pieces and drag yourself up to the task of brushing away the hurt, the confusion. Pain. The people surrounding you, influencing you are willing to let you crumble into dust, crumble into a position … Read More Fake friends

My inspiration

My inspiration, my captivating song. My ball of mirrors that reflect different ideas, different sources of creativity. My inspiration, my motivation to achieve. The oasis I dream of and try to reach. My goals. My inspiration, my medicinal treatment that heals the yearning for something to work towards. The concrete of colour that fills up my gaps. My inspiration.

The Voices

The banksia. A striking flower. A well of knowledge. A mirror that reflects all the paths I’ve walked down, all the doors that I’ve opened on this journey. My feet wander on, eyes, mouth, ears opened, soaking in the voices. The voices that talk to me, lead me, tell me stories of old and new. More paths are taken, more doors are open. My … Read More The Voices

Ugly

No. No. No. My reflection ripples, teasing me. I bite my already bitten lip, as my chin quivers. My eyes dart. I take in what’s on the surface of my mirror. My frizzy, untamed hair. My squinting eyes placed smack bang on my way-too-round face. My fatty thighs standing next to each other like two, enourmous pork sausages. My pasty completion. And my tummy … Read More Ugly

Maybe

My hearts alight. Not literally. At least I don’t think it is. I can’t tell anymore. I don’t feel pain. Not really. Or maybe, maybe I just won’t believe that I can feel pain. Maybe I’m just kidding myself that I’m human, maybe I’m an ant. A simple ant. But maybe I am human. Maybe I’m not kidding myself. The flames flare, higher and … Read More Maybe

Running

Running. Pumping back and forth. My weary body groans with exhaustion. I can’t feel anything anymore. I’m all numb. I don’t know where I’m going. Or where I was. I don’t know anything, except that I have to run. I have to run. Running.

Violet La Chelair

Chairs scraped noisily as people leaned this way and that, chattering to the people next to them. Every where you looked, merry faces blabbed all kinds of news to others. The grand hall of the village was now playing host to the village itself, allowing them to hold their monthly meeting. It was as people started to wonder when the meeting was going to … Read More Violet La Chelair

Relaxation

The day is an endless assault of division and spelling. My weary mind slaves away, writing word after word, thinking of answer after answer. Voices drone on, while I struggle to string together words to form a sentence. Craning my neck, I look up at the ticking clock that hangs proudly on the white wall. 3, 2, 1.. A dull ring echoes through the … Read More Relaxation

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