Bittersweet
Note: Finally, at least, done one thing. That is broken the writer's block. This may end up as a part of my original fiction book, the plotline of which is still quite dubious right now. But, at least there was some kind of finality to it, so posting it as a Drabble. This is my second original drabble. Let's see where my writing goes from here. Your comments would really mean a lot to me. So, please do write a line or two about how you found it.
Maybe I'll restart the HP fiction, maybe not. But, I'm in real need of writing something chaptered and semi-long just to get busy again. Just to be writing again. My dear muse I've been away for a looong time and I would really appreciate your musings for my writing. *smiles*
Bittersweet
Her stoic eyes stared outside the car window; taking in the whizzing buildings and landscapes that receded from her view. She realized with a start that the colors had just went out of everything, replaced by many hues of grey; blacker, greyer to muddy white. Her hands twisted in her lap with frustration. The emotions welling inside, threatened to spill over, overflowing the limit.... But, she dug her nails deep into the soft flesh of her hand and fought. With every ounce of tolerance inborn, she fought so hard that blood drew back from her hands leaving them white as marble, while her eyes ached under the burden of unshed tears.
NO! I have to control myself... I have to be strong. I have to rise against the circumstances and fight the demons that are eager to get hold of me, she crooned to herself decidedly. Still, the invisible hands of doom clutched at her throat as she gulped down the threatening tears. Forgetting to blink, she tensed as she felt the moistness of tears on her eyelashes. Before it was too late, she quickly opened the window, willing the tears to dry with breeze. The merciful wind swept in, gently stroking her face. She relaxed, taking many deep, grateful breaths, and closed her eyes momentarily, now free of the short-lived tears.
Things could’ve been worse, she thought, I was wrung before I could get hurt. Maybe there was still God. Maybe the moon hadn’t stopped shining and the winding pathways hadn’t straightened. Momentarily she flashed back to her past, a little child, balled in a baby-pose, hidden from the rest of the world inside her own world.
However, the time didn’t stop; neither her heart nor breath. She felt numb, bittersweet, burned all at once. She closed her eyes to imagine a road with an unseen end. She’d be all right, she knew, even if it was at the price of bearing few scars forever.
‘Though, wasn’t I a fighter forever? Haven’t I become used to the pain?’ she asked her heart quite naively, looking at the stretched and long-winding road.
No reply came, so she concluded, she had to be.
I would come back again. I AM a fighter and I would rebuke. I wouldn’t reprieve. She started walking on the path destined for her. I walk away now, to live another day.
Maybe I'll restart the HP fiction, maybe not. But, I'm in real need of writing something chaptered and semi-long just to get busy again. Just to be writing again. My dear muse I've been away for a looong time and I would really appreciate your musings for my writing. *smiles*
Bittersweet
Her stoic eyes stared outside the car window; taking in the whizzing buildings and landscapes that receded from her view. She realized with a start that the colors had just went out of everything, replaced by many hues of grey; blacker, greyer to muddy white. Her hands twisted in her lap with frustration. The emotions welling inside, threatened to spill over, overflowing the limit.... But, she dug her nails deep into the soft flesh of her hand and fought. With every ounce of tolerance inborn, she fought so hard that blood drew back from her hands leaving them white as marble, while her eyes ached under the burden of unshed tears.
NO! I have to control myself... I have to be strong. I have to rise against the circumstances and fight the demons that are eager to get hold of me, she crooned to herself decidedly. Still, the invisible hands of doom clutched at her throat as she gulped down the threatening tears. Forgetting to blink, she tensed as she felt the moistness of tears on her eyelashes. Before it was too late, she quickly opened the window, willing the tears to dry with breeze. The merciful wind swept in, gently stroking her face. She relaxed, taking many deep, grateful breaths, and closed her eyes momentarily, now free of the short-lived tears.
Things could’ve been worse, she thought, I was wrung before I could get hurt. Maybe there was still God. Maybe the moon hadn’t stopped shining and the winding pathways hadn’t straightened. Momentarily she flashed back to her past, a little child, balled in a baby-pose, hidden from the rest of the world inside her own world.
However, the time didn’t stop; neither her heart nor breath. She felt numb, bittersweet, burned all at once. She closed her eyes to imagine a road with an unseen end. She’d be all right, she knew, even if it was at the price of bearing few scars forever.
‘Though, wasn’t I a fighter forever? Haven’t I become used to the pain?’ she asked her heart quite naively, looking at the stretched and long-winding road.
No reply came, so she concluded, she had to be.
I would come back again. I AM a fighter and I would rebuke. I wouldn’t reprieve. She started walking on the path destined for her. I walk away now, to live another day.