HELLO PEEPS! What follows is a short story for my creative writing class, and it would really really help me if you would give honest feedback on it. Im desperate. Please. My bedroom did not feel like my own when she was in it. She filled every room she was in, overwhelming, like she was too big for this world and all its mundane inhabitants. She was beautiful, yes; of course she was beautiful. She was beautiful in how she lit up the place around her, in how she moved like she was ethereal, floating. She was beautiful like this, one eyebrow raised as she leant on the windowsill. Id never seen her before her mornings coffee and cigarette before. She was beautiful before she put on her armour. Id tried to leave without waking her. Shed been asleep when the alarm went off, barbed wire hair forming a messy halo around her peaceful, dreaming face. Id only re-entered the room to grab my lipstick, but here she was, wearing a t-shirt that could only have been too small because it was mine. It rode up to reveal the skin of her waist, and I half expected to see my fingerprints still painted there, but I had not been strong enough to claim her with black and blue. She was not mine to claim. I stared; I couldnt help it. Her appearance clung to the vestiges of sleep with gorgeous ferocity, and I was helpless. I was always helpless, when it came to her. Never more so than now. Everything hung on this moment, and yet the silence continued to stretch on, like an elastic band getting thinner, thinner. I didnt want to wait for it to snap. Opal, I said, like a warning, like a shield. She hated it when I used her name. She always said it made her sound like an old lady; she liked being young. Free. Her stare felt heavy on me, like an unwelcome blanket in summer. It felt like she was teasing me. There was always humour in the curve of her lips, the arch of her eyebrow; I resented it now. I didnt want her to mock me. I need a cigarette, she said. I dont have any. I know. You dont smoke. She smiled at me, then, a real smile. It made her look younger. I suppose we actually have to talk, then. She reached out like she might touch me, but she sat down on the bed instead. I didnt look at her. I looked at the covers instead. They were kicked to the bottom on the bed, crumpled red. It had been too hot. It was winter. I spose we do, I replied eventually. I stayed in the doorway; I needed to get this over with. Rip the wound open, let myself bleed out, and then I needed to go to work. Some of us had responsibilities. Lyn, she said. That wasnt my name. It was something she called me. I liked it when she used my real name. I didnt know you were... Im not. You - She paused; she didnt know how to say it. Did you mean it? she asked instead. I couldnt reply because she knew the answer, and it was not the answer she wanted. She wanted me to say that last night Id done what many a man had done to her - flippantly whispered adoration into the skin to her neck, as fleeting as a hastily sucked love bite. The problem was that I could not have said I didnt love her because it would have been the worst kind of blasphemy I knew. The problem was that she was not God, and she could not love me back any more than I could stop loving her. ~GinnytheGinjaNinja
Posted on: Mon, 29 Sep 2014 19:37:53 +0000
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