A picture says a thousand words. Write them.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about this picture.
Be sure to tag writeworld in your block!
No sooner does the door behind her slam closed than I know I’m as good as dead.
Once upon a time, when I was a little girl, I deemed that I was worthy of someone’s love- as mother would braid my hair before bed, she would narrate all types of beautiful romantic stories I desperately wanted to be the protagonist of.
By now, however, I foster no delusions.
But she… she was different. Or so I thought. The shade of her eyes underneath summer sunlight was reminiscent of cognac. Once I ran my fingers through her hair the first time, that evening by the sea when I finally screwed up the courage to press my lips to hers, I learned just how overrated silk was.
As twilight descended upon us, I felt her mouth move against mine in a barely audible whisper. Forever.
What a fool I was! They all leave after they learn; every single man or woman I’ve ever loved. I’ve walked through the centuries, neither aging nor ailing; I’ve come across too many such situations not to know better. Now I dare to laugh at myself.
Why would she be the exception to my fate’s rule?
I try calling her name, only to be made aware of the apartment’s emptiness once again. All my people have found their mates and live their happily ever afters.
But not me. I’m tired of searching, I’m tired of getting to my feet only to fall again. Of all these insomniac nights, of all these empty booze bottles standing by my desk.
Time to sleep.
I told myself I was powerless to refuse this beast so I accepted his bounty to find a woman. I took comfort that the girl he described couldn’t possibly exist. Eyes both brown and blue. Virtuous yet lustful. Neither dark nor light, yet both.
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