{ORIGINAL} Chasing Shadows & Coffee Stains
| Chasing Shadows | G | Slice of Life | ~300 words |
Description: The ice reflects nothing but the truth.
The skating rink is the plain of life and I am the lone skater that stumbles through the space. I skate alone, trying to keep my balance and concentrating purely on staying upright and on the short distance in front of me, with shallow goals glaring in my eyes. Other people glide by fast and confident with direction and purpose. People occasionally skate beside me; slowing to my pace, give quick remarks and advice before flying away never looking back, leaving nothing but the remnants of their dim shadow. Our paths cross again and again as fleeting moments in time. When I fall, I fall due to my own faults, lapses in concentration, and distractions from whisks of flashing colours that zoom past. When I hit the ground hard I lie there for a moment, letting the chill shoot through my body as the pain sets in slowly afterwards as a burning conflicting rush. I get up on my own when no one else is around. Even when an outstretched hand is there, I refuse. I know it's not good to cling onto things that won't last for long.
Despite the satisfaction of self achieved accomplishment, a wave of sadness much colder than the ice washes through from time to time. The laughter of the pairs and groups permeate into the cool air, their shadows merging and dancing in unison in the expanse. It's a feeling that is quickly replaced by the war between icy tingling and the burning fire that shoots through. It’s just a mere lapse in concentration.
The lone skater continues to glide in repetitive circles with bruised knees and a bruised heart, chasing nothing but their own shadow.
---
| Coffee Stains | G | Slice of Life | ~120 words |
Description: Resistance against the temptation is futile. You'll only lose yourself to the taste of addiction.
The smouldering bitter aftertaste lingers familiarly on the tongue as a distant vague memory. The light frothy texture of the milk leaves a reminiscent trail on the lips. The brown circular stamp marks the pristine white table. The remaining dark liquid swirls in a lethargic motion at the bottom of the china cup.
A harsh awakening lies in the warm hands of a smiling face, waiting at precisely the same time each morning. The whisper of your name grants you the addiction. It's an addiction void of sweetness and full of the burning of adrenaline and the glistening of ignited eyes. It's an addiction that traps and consumes you from the moment it touches your begging lips, at the very first unwilling sip.
---
Written with the lingering taste of coffee on my tongue.
Description: The ice reflects nothing but the truth.
The skating rink is the plain of life and I am the lone skater that stumbles through the space. I skate alone, trying to keep my balance and concentrating purely on staying upright and on the short distance in front of me, with shallow goals glaring in my eyes. Other people glide by fast and confident with direction and purpose. People occasionally skate beside me; slowing to my pace, give quick remarks and advice before flying away never looking back, leaving nothing but the remnants of their dim shadow. Our paths cross again and again as fleeting moments in time. When I fall, I fall due to my own faults, lapses in concentration, and distractions from whisks of flashing colours that zoom past. When I hit the ground hard I lie there for a moment, letting the chill shoot through my body as the pain sets in slowly afterwards as a burning conflicting rush. I get up on my own when no one else is around. Even when an outstretched hand is there, I refuse. I know it's not good to cling onto things that won't last for long.
Despite the satisfaction of self achieved accomplishment, a wave of sadness much colder than the ice washes through from time to time. The laughter of the pairs and groups permeate into the cool air, their shadows merging and dancing in unison in the expanse. It's a feeling that is quickly replaced by the war between icy tingling and the burning fire that shoots through. It’s just a mere lapse in concentration.
The lone skater continues to glide in repetitive circles with bruised knees and a bruised heart, chasing nothing but their own shadow.
---
| Coffee Stains | G | Slice of Life | ~120 words |
Description: Resistance against the temptation is futile. You'll only lose yourself to the taste of addiction.
The smouldering bitter aftertaste lingers familiarly on the tongue as a distant vague memory. The light frothy texture of the milk leaves a reminiscent trail on the lips. The brown circular stamp marks the pristine white table. The remaining dark liquid swirls in a lethargic motion at the bottom of the china cup.
A harsh awakening lies in the warm hands of a smiling face, waiting at precisely the same time each morning. The whisper of your name grants you the addiction. It's an addiction void of sweetness and full of the burning of adrenaline and the glistening of ignited eyes. It's an addiction that traps and consumes you from the moment it touches your begging lips, at the very first unwilling sip.
---
Written with the lingering taste of coffee on my tongue.