And So it Goes.

An assignment for my English club(:

The bare light bulb cast shadows over the planes and valleys of her face as her white knuckled hands clasped around a navy pen.   Words bled from her fingers in the same dark color as her veins, staining her paper line after line as she turned her thoughts into permanent words.  Her pale arm, nearly the same shade as her page, was slung across her work haphazardly, guarding it with the same calculations as her eyes.  The study carol was an old and withered wood the same color as her hair, a dark and rich flavor of brown that caught your sight and held it, etched deeply with names and symbols that once meant something to someone far away.  In the set of her face and the curve of her jaw, she was writing in the same grain as the wood, of places and people that simply couldn’t stay.  Her spine was rigid, posture infallible; her mind’s way of making her appear composed was lost on most because dark tears clung to the darker hollows of her eyes, as if wishing to break her archetypal appearance.  The sums of her small failures hung in the air like smoke form clove cigarettes, sweet and cloying, refusing to be swept away by a light breeze.

Author's Note

Thank you(:

Reviews

[The Winter Grey]

Short but staggering! You could seriously write books - this wasn't written it was composed, the words you pen are absolutely mesmerizing... I couldn't look away.

[Seshat Nidaba]

I can see and feel you moving more to fiction then? Some cool lines here:

1. The sums of her small failures hung
2. The study carol was an old and withered wood the same color as her hair
3. The bare light bulb cast shadows over the planes and valleys of her face

Wonderfully descriptive!