New Fiction (gasp)
So, most random thing occured. Lying on my bed, having just finished a uni reading and freecell game a plot hit me like a meteor and I was terrified if I didn't get the first sentence down then I would lose all hope for ever finishing it. So I wrote that sentence, and then the next and then the next... twenty minutes and two edits later, this is the final product.
Title: Locating Salvation.
Original Fiction.
Rating: Um. Let's go PG. It has a slight adult theme, but nothing serious.
A/N: Apologies for errors, I have no beta. Point them out, I'll fix it. Also, feedback welcome and in giving constructive criticism, please make it as kind as possible. I'm a little sensitive about my writing sometimes and am prone to giving up when getting cons-crit, despite how it helps. Otherwise, I appreciate your reading time.
***
The small box eludes her grasp, and she rifles through several different endless textures in a desperate search for what seems like, at this moment, salvation. It is always impossible to find exactly what she is looking for at the time. Hours ago, she was going through these same motions in search of car keys and she had brushed against this cardboard box and flicked it carelessly away with a single digit, having only a need to locate cold hard metal.
But it is now that same cold metal that passes between her fingertips over and over, as if they are desperate to be held in her hand. She impatiently pulls the keys out and for a moment in between the smooth caress of fabric against her skin, the hard corner of cardboard grates against her little finger and she jolts, dropping the keys back into the bag while her hand races them back down.
It was futile to think that it could be so easily reclaimed. The box as well as the keys have disappeared from her reach and she pauses, takes a deep breath and hauls her bag down off of her shoulder. She kneels and uses both hands to hold the bag open. Homeless receipts wink at her in the sunlight and forgotten spare change blinks dully, having not seen blue sky since the moment they were tossed haphazardly in amongst pens, scraps of paper, lip balm and a perfume bottle.
She really thinks it’s about time she sorted through the mess, knowing one day she will lose sanity over the ridiculous amount of time it takes to locate a single item. But she spots her beloved box trapped beneath a cluster of lolly wrappers and, eyes solely focused on her prize, not daring to look away in fear it might be lost again, she smooths away hard plastic. There. Finally.
Cigarettes.
The lid pops open gently and she slides out a cylinder almost reverently, placing it in anticipation between spit-slicked lips. She stands, still holding the bag in both hands and resumes her walk, already feeling much happier about having to stop in the first place. She lets one hand grip the junction between leather and zip, while the other braves again the war zone of the bag to find an adequate spot for the cigarette packet. Having determined the bottom right hand corner as perfect and shifting her wallet in order to create ample space, she takes another deep breath.
Now, she has to find her lighter.