Scribblings, Part I
So, I've decided to post some of my creative writing on here, like when I started this blog thing. So here is a self portrait I did a while back to introduce myself to a writing group. Enjoy!
She sighed the potent sighs of longing and sank against the wall, sweat pouring in rivulets down the side of her face. Crying sobs of a violin flowed in through the window, drawing the soft bow of nostalgia across her core strings. She was alone in this foreign land. It was strange to her, and yet frightfully exciting in the same breath. She hadn't realized how much she missed the music. She left her country to find a new life of rich simplicity, but, in doing so, had forgotten to bring the former part of her self to support the new one as it grew. Weeks without the comfort of threads of notes woven together into a tapestry of music had worn her soul thin. But now, she closed her eyes, listened, and breathed in the spice-laden air of this tierra nueva.
She thought of home.
A duck just flew by and a small fish kept jumping on the other side of the sun kissed rock. The sun was behind the mountains, but a faint glow of peach-colored light still lingered above the horizon. Mayflies fluttered above the water that rippled by the rocks. The light gave the water the appearance of steel-gray silk. Azure clouds dotted the sky as stars began peeking from behind their puffy skirts. The waters sounded gentle applause to the Creator. Here was home. The smell of the river, the house, even the cows--the cool of the dusk near the river, near the earth. Here was here her heart dwelt.
She sighed the potent sighs of longing and sank against the wall, sweat pouring in rivulets down the side of her face. Crying sobs of a violin flowed in through the window, drawing the soft bow of nostalgia across her core strings. She was alone in this foreign land. It was strange to her, and yet frightfully exciting in the same breath. She hadn't realized how much she missed the music. She left her country to find a new life of rich simplicity, but, in doing so, had forgotten to bring the former part of her self to support the new one as it grew. Weeks without the comfort of threads of notes woven together into a tapestry of music had worn her soul thin. But now, she closed her eyes, listened, and breathed in the spice-laden air of this tierra nueva.
She thought of home.
A duck just flew by and a small fish kept jumping on the other side of the sun kissed rock. The sun was behind the mountains, but a faint glow of peach-colored light still lingered above the horizon. Mayflies fluttered above the water that rippled by the rocks. The light gave the water the appearance of steel-gray silk. Azure clouds dotted the sky as stars began peeking from behind their puffy skirts. The waters sounded gentle applause to the Creator. Here was home. The smell of the river, the house, even the cows--the cool of the dusk near the river, near the earth. Here was here her heart dwelt.
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