Tell me what you think.
This is a story NOT done by me, but by Manuel Rivera, tell me what you think.
Waiting at this paper again, as well as inspiration returns to the building. Its has been taken by the dew on the glass of this window. It makes everything hardly translucent. The only thing decent that comes through is the light thats been needed for awhile already because the candle burned past its own wax. The Sun rays still barely shine here. All you can see is the mess of paper around me as if a hurricane blew trees into sheets and inked them with rain. The window is still yet to clear its never been fogged like this for all that I've looked through it. I still back and wait seeing what I may see in this room. Still just the same old situation in here. Rusted nails in each floor board, tentnis would be easily contracted if I were to even wall on this floor. Food scraps and empty glasses litter the desk to the side while the army of mice can be heard in the areas were the lights yet to shine. Some of the dew started clearing as i was looking away and the first speck of life can be seen. I gase at the dirt surface the goes out until it drops steeply into a sea of white crysanthamums lined with a few others in shades of dark purples. I look to my paper and start drawing what I'm witnessing out that little corner. Every stroke mimics true nature catching very bit from the drop of the slope to the bugs at the flowers. Sometimes I feel that when I look out there I am there and I hear those bugs and their wings squeak. My pen doesnt leave the surface as more dew clears off and reveals more. To the west there is some old silos and bails of hay picked at by time. When I see it, it reminds me of birds picking and feed and leaving behind what they dont wish to consume. I continue with my work capturing that old farm and those bails of hay with the pines in the back and the combs so dark they look as old ball bearings. This is my last glance at this window all the dew is finally gone I look in disgust and fear as I startle to see a mad man looking back at me. I run over to the side of the window my paper falling to the floor and as he runs as well and i wait for the dew to reform.
Waiting at this paper again, as well as inspiration returns to the building. Its has been taken by the dew on the glass of this window. It makes everything hardly translucent. The only thing decent that comes through is the light thats been needed for awhile already because the candle burned past its own wax. The Sun rays still barely shine here. All you can see is the mess of paper around me as if a hurricane blew trees into sheets and inked them with rain. The window is still yet to clear its never been fogged like this for all that I've looked through it. I still back and wait seeing what I may see in this room. Still just the same old situation in here. Rusted nails in each floor board, tentnis would be easily contracted if I were to even wall on this floor. Food scraps and empty glasses litter the desk to the side while the army of mice can be heard in the areas were the lights yet to shine. Some of the dew started clearing as i was looking away and the first speck of life can be seen. I gase at the dirt surface the goes out until it drops steeply into a sea of white crysanthamums lined with a few others in shades of dark purples. I look to my paper and start drawing what I'm witnessing out that little corner. Every stroke mimics true nature catching very bit from the drop of the slope to the bugs at the flowers. Sometimes I feel that when I look out there I am there and I hear those bugs and their wings squeak. My pen doesnt leave the surface as more dew clears off and reveals more. To the west there is some old silos and bails of hay picked at by time. When I see it, it reminds me of birds picking and feed and leaving behind what they dont wish to consume. I continue with my work capturing that old farm and those bails of hay with the pines in the back and the combs so dark they look as old ball bearings. This is my last glance at this window all the dew is finally gone I look in disgust and fear as I startle to see a mad man looking back at me. I run over to the side of the window my paper falling to the floor and as he runs as well and i wait for the dew to reform.