(no subject)
another prompt
Prompt: She had a record
Three suitcases littered her floor, barely enough for the avalanches of clothing and notebooks falling out of her closet. The makeup was packed, the bed stripped of linen, and the pens and colored pencils were wrapped up and tucked into the corner of her purse. The posters she tore off the walls were thrown away - you don't fly your teenage attachments over the ocean, not when you're 24, not when you're running away.
A record caught her eye, crushed beneath the stack of magazine-bound diaries. She stared at it in surprise, reaching for the cardboard wrapping with a shaking hand, the black and white photo of the artist staring at her with moody eyes. Johnny Mathis. She hasn't touched her record player in years but carefully, she slipped the record out, holding the black disk by the edges and loading it in.
Piano filled the room like raindrops, caressed by a velvety voice. The song was wrong for the occasion, she didn't need visions of love and night stars, but it left her strangely calm, like she imagined trees feel after a storm, dripping yet eternally broad. It left her whispering "chances are" as she packed the rest of her life up and grabbed her plane ticket, choosing to leave the record behind, along with her cellphone and her address book.
Kind of like what I feel like doing right now...
by the way, has anyone here heard the song "chances are" by Johnny Mathis?
Prompt: She had a record
Three suitcases littered her floor, barely enough for the avalanches of clothing and notebooks falling out of her closet. The makeup was packed, the bed stripped of linen, and the pens and colored pencils were wrapped up and tucked into the corner of her purse. The posters she tore off the walls were thrown away - you don't fly your teenage attachments over the ocean, not when you're 24, not when you're running away.
A record caught her eye, crushed beneath the stack of magazine-bound diaries. She stared at it in surprise, reaching for the cardboard wrapping with a shaking hand, the black and white photo of the artist staring at her with moody eyes. Johnny Mathis. She hasn't touched her record player in years but carefully, she slipped the record out, holding the black disk by the edges and loading it in.
Piano filled the room like raindrops, caressed by a velvety voice. The song was wrong for the occasion, she didn't need visions of love and night stars, but it left her strangely calm, like she imagined trees feel after a storm, dripping yet eternally broad. It left her whispering "chances are" as she packed the rest of her life up and grabbed her plane ticket, choosing to leave the record behind, along with her cellphone and her address book.
Kind of like what I feel like doing right now...
by the way, has anyone here heard the song "chances are" by Johnny Mathis?