The exercise:
The Sunday starter this week is: lost in the mist.
Mine:
Going for this walk was a bad choice. I can hear someone calling from beyond this wall of gray but I can't find the voice. I should have stayed home tonight, I should have listened to Joyce.
Every direction I look it's all the same: gray picture in a gray frame. In my heart terror is fighting with shame. I think I might die out here but I know that I will shoulder all the blame. Leave me to this please, this is all my fault; I wish they would stop calling my name.
My footsteps are so heavy and slow. I stand still because I don't know which way to go. I look up to the sky to pray but instead see the first flake of snow. I am captivated by this final falling show.
3 comments:
all the colours
stirring at my feet:
rain-washed dreams
of gutter street
falling through
concrete cracks
and metal grates
thoughts thoughts thoughts
carry beauty beneath
having writer's block...
i like yours.
That's interesting - this prompt was inspired by a writer on Protagonize who is suffering from a severe block.
The only way I know how to get through the wall is to start writing and not allow myself to stop, no matter how crap it is.
It's rarely pretty, but it usually works.
It was the first cool morning in a while. I looked outside and then eagerly began to pull on a jacket before rushing out the door.
I loved the way the mist obscured everything around me. The trees and building were hazy making the familiar street suddenly seem mysterious. I breathed in the freshness of the air, reveling as it traced its way into my lungs.
****
That's all I could come up with. Not really having to do with being lost. :P
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