Creative Writing - Portrait
Just like sitting on the edge of the world; just like sitting on the edge of a cliff. Perched on the rim of a bathtub, her feet dangling over steep declines, a girl watched water fill her over-sized basin. Hair willowed into the steaming water, blackening it and making the strings billow. Soon, the water streamed to the top, then over, water falling under her thighs and down to the tiles. Distorting her bare skin and burning it into a lively pink.
Not once did she move, nor did she think of moving. The burning turned into a dull tingling. The water still poured out of the faucet, and was probably soaking the carpet in the hallway. She was a statue on the brink of a waterfall; grave, immobile, and grand. A being to watch over you with eyes that could not see.
The fan hummed its wordless song, creating the wind that pushed her over. The statue fell, the forehead of stone shattering against the faucet. Inside were not core-deep marble, but flesh and blood that tainted the water. The shaving razor near the soap, drawing blood from stone, scathed her feet. A soap bottle fell from the edge of the summit, bobbing on the surface near her shoulder, before trapping itself near the waterfall's ledge.
Her moments were emotionless, feeling nothing but suffocation. Panic didn't exist to statues... pain numbed by a constant flow of frigid water. Suddenly, the exotic jungle where a Goddess' statue perched in the center of a magnificent oasis fell. There was no cliff, no statue, only a maniac-depressed girl in a bathroom. Nothing grand or mysterious in the hotel room bathroom.
The feeling of being on top of the world was never there. Only the feeling of being submerged in despair had been in her heart.
Not once did she move, nor did she think of moving. The burning turned into a dull tingling. The water still poured out of the faucet, and was probably soaking the carpet in the hallway. She was a statue on the brink of a waterfall; grave, immobile, and grand. A being to watch over you with eyes that could not see.
The fan hummed its wordless song, creating the wind that pushed her over. The statue fell, the forehead of stone shattering against the faucet. Inside were not core-deep marble, but flesh and blood that tainted the water. The shaving razor near the soap, drawing blood from stone, scathed her feet. A soap bottle fell from the edge of the summit, bobbing on the surface near her shoulder, before trapping itself near the waterfall's ledge.
Her moments were emotionless, feeling nothing but suffocation. Panic didn't exist to statues... pain numbed by a constant flow of frigid water. Suddenly, the exotic jungle where a Goddess' statue perched in the center of a magnificent oasis fell. There was no cliff, no statue, only a maniac-depressed girl in a bathroom. Nothing grand or mysterious in the hotel room bathroom.
The feeling of being on top of the world was never there. Only the feeling of being submerged in despair had been in her heart.