Writing Practice
“Write in the voice of a rope about to snap.”
Taken from: Creative Writing Prompts
Un-beta'd
“Almost there,” I think to myself. The stretch is painful and there is not much I can do at this point.
Years and years of abuse being pushed and pulled. No one would survive for long. Not even I, with all the extra polyester to make me even more resistant than the other ones. The color that once shone brightly in red under the sun is now a pale shade of pink, almost impossible to recognize.
But I am not just any rope. You could say I’m the expensive kind, complexly braided and utterly resistant to both sun and rain. Obviously things such as these are necessary as I work in the most extreme conditions. Or better yet, worked.
I don’t know how long has passed since then. I’m only a rope, with no idea of how to measure the time. The only thing I’m capable of is sliding up and down, and even that is only possible with a human’s aid. What I do know is that I’m almost snapping. All those extra strings and nothing can stop someone like me to snap in two. In the end, we all have the same fate, no matter how strong we are.
But the job was well worth it.
Only that thought won’t stop me from breaking.
Another snap, and there it goes another string. I can’t warn anyone; it’s not like I can speak either. Maybe they’ll have some use for my parts later. Maybe not. I hope they do; the trash doesn’t sound very appealing to me, although no one has ever come back to tell me what it is like.
Another string and I look below; no one seems to notice. It will be too late by then, but there’s nothing a rope can do.
One more. I wonder whether the new one will be as strong as I was. The old ropes are always the best, although that would mean my ancestor was better than I was, which I hardly believe. Does this make me a hypocrite?
Again. Now there’s only one string between what I was and the eminent end. The stretch hurts a lot and by the time a string snap, I’m already numbed by the pain.
It’s almost there.
Any second now.
I hear a final snap and watch helplessly as the sail falls and hit the people below. There are screams, but they fade as I succumb to the darkness.
It’s over.
Taken from: Creative Writing Prompts
Un-beta'd
“Almost there,” I think to myself. The stretch is painful and there is not much I can do at this point.
Years and years of abuse being pushed and pulled. No one would survive for long. Not even I, with all the extra polyester to make me even more resistant than the other ones. The color that once shone brightly in red under the sun is now a pale shade of pink, almost impossible to recognize.
But I am not just any rope. You could say I’m the expensive kind, complexly braided and utterly resistant to both sun and rain. Obviously things such as these are necessary as I work in the most extreme conditions. Or better yet, worked.
I don’t know how long has passed since then. I’m only a rope, with no idea of how to measure the time. The only thing I’m capable of is sliding up and down, and even that is only possible with a human’s aid. What I do know is that I’m almost snapping. All those extra strings and nothing can stop someone like me to snap in two. In the end, we all have the same fate, no matter how strong we are.
But the job was well worth it.
Only that thought won’t stop me from breaking.
Another snap, and there it goes another string. I can’t warn anyone; it’s not like I can speak either. Maybe they’ll have some use for my parts later. Maybe not. I hope they do; the trash doesn’t sound very appealing to me, although no one has ever come back to tell me what it is like.
Another string and I look below; no one seems to notice. It will be too late by then, but there’s nothing a rope can do.
One more. I wonder whether the new one will be as strong as I was. The old ropes are always the best, although that would mean my ancestor was better than I was, which I hardly believe. Does this make me a hypocrite?
Again. Now there’s only one string between what I was and the eminent end. The stretch hurts a lot and by the time a string snap, I’m already numbed by the pain.
It’s almost there.
Any second now.
I hear a final snap and watch helplessly as the sail falls and hit the people below. There are screams, but they fade as I succumb to the darkness.
It’s over.