I started taking this class online for creative writing cuz I've never done it before
Assignment find a candle, find safe place for it, write a paragraph describing it avoid soldier/dancer cliches.
Candles are easy enough to find I remember where I stash them it's the lighting that proves problematic. Lighter no where to be found and the matches, well matches are tricky. Strike to hard and you've a blunt toothpick in your hand, to light and you keep making the same motion over and over just that little bit harder right up until the bloody thing snaps off in your hand again, in a fit of pique and annoyance the match is lit, the flame flaring with chemicals I could likely name if not laughing at myself for using the recently located bic to light the match head. The candle already a veteran of breeze and flame standing forlorn in the nearest glass object I'd found the last time I found a need for fire, when alight is untold possibility for a mind that jumps to random associations for the sheer joy of annoyance, the only thought standing out in a shouting crowd is one of duality, fire helping and hurting. Up until the moment the dyslexic Buffy reference stands on it's shoulders babbling about fire pretty, tree bad and I give it up as a moment to let the chaos reign rather then sort into things making sense.
Candles are easy enough to find I remember where I stash them it's the lighting that proves problematic. Lighter no where to be found and the matches, well matches are tricky. Strike to hard and you've a blunt toothpick in your hand, to light and you keep making the same motion over and over just that little bit harder right up until the bloody thing snaps off in your hand again, in a fit of pique and annoyance the match is lit, the flame flaring with chemicals I could likely name if not laughing at myself for using the recently located bic to light the match head. The candle already a veteran of breeze and flame standing forlorn in the nearest glass object I'd found the last time I found a need for fire, when alight is untold possibility for a mind that jumps to random associations for the sheer joy of annoyance, the only thought standing out in a shouting crowd is one of duality, fire helping and hurting. Up until the moment the dyslexic Buffy reference stands on it's shoulders babbling about fire pretty, tree bad and I give it up as a moment to let the chaos reign rather then sort into things making sense.