An Explanation

Where’s Dreamer Girl? What happened to her challenges? Poetry? Fiction? Comments and likes on other posts?

A number of things have been getting on top of me lately. Mainly school, but also some personal issues. The hardest thing has been the inability to express myself through writing, because that has always been my coping method. Recently, I have  been too exhausted to sweat out those difficult feelings into poetry or prose. I’m getting the help that I need and hopefully as things improve I will find ways to express myself again. But for the moment, my writing is going to be put on hold.

I apologize for not reading and commenting on posts, and I am trying to get back into blogging.

DG

P.S. As I build myself back up to writing creatively, I am going to try to post more on my newer blog Dreamer Girl’s Journal, which will mainly be rambles and unedited thinking-out-loud type posts. So if you’re interested I would really appreciate it if you head on over to that site. 🙂

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The Train Ride

I breathed a sigh of relief as I slid into my seat, which was thankfully unoccupied. Plonking my belongings on the plastic table with the typical Monday-morning monotony. The familiar feel of the ridge where the seat had worn with time was a strange comfort. As the train clunked into motion, groggy as the bodies inside, my hand pressed deeper into the cushiony filling with the curiosity of a child.

***

Just in time. I catch my breath as the train pulls up. Fumbling for my ticket, a jangle of keys and coins, and relieved sigh puffs from my lips. I straighten it out, smoothing my fingers over the creases.

***


After sliding my glasses back up for the hundredth time, I dumped them on the table, perhaps a little too carelessly. The fuzzy shapes merged together like I’d dunked a painting in water and the colours had seeped into a blurry brown, vaguely resembling the original shape. I loved playing this game at night, driving through the city, watching all of the lights twinkle against the blackness.

 ***

The air is tangy with the scent of stale coffee. I scoot into the nearest seat. Beside me, behind the pages of a newspaper, is a wrinkled forehead. I wonder whether the wrinkles are from concentration or age, and settle for a bit of both. Still, the guy is oblivious to me. I shift my gaze, scanning the carriage like a bored child in search of amusement. Immediately a pair of dark eyes lock on to mine, peeking from under a thick, black fringe. Before I wonder why, my eyes wander to her mouth. Lips slightly parted, the kind of mouth that speaks without words. Just a creeping smile or tentative twist of the lips movement will tell you everything;. Her eyes are still fixed on me. She’s too far away to tell, but there’s a lost look in her. Is she daydreaming? She looks too resolute for that. Do I stare back? A wave of embarrassment flushes my cheeks. I fiddle with the ticket, smoothing out the creases. When I return my gaze she has gone.

***

My glasses bobbed up and down slightly as I hurried down the stairs. Curly black tendrils flew wildly in the wind. I’d missed my stop. A taxi was my only hope to get to the meeting on time. Why did I let myself lose track of time again? Between heavy breaths I let out curses. I needed to pull myself together. And start running.

The taxi driver asked a second time where I wanted to go. As I stared at the stranger in the car, who waited for my answer, forehead creased, I didn’t tell him the office building. Quietly, the name fell from my lips as I remembered. Jake.

***

I am walking. My legs take me to the space she left. It’s only on reaching it that I realise what I am doing. I stare at the seat, torn and faded, with stuffing poking out of the corners. Scratched into the plastic table is a wonky flower. An empty coffee cup and a newspaper. Peeking in the corner of the first page is a yellow post-it note. “Don’t be late for meeting! Bread. Cheese.” Then underneath, crossed out twice, “Break up with–.” Beside it, crossed out once, “Tell Jake.” Poor guy, I mutter. I slide into the seat, examining the long, cursive letters. My foot meets an object on the floor. A glasses case. The same looping handwriting is inside the empty case. Dorothy Poole.

All I Saw Was You


I walked.
In the distance
The moon hung
Lonely in the blackness…
Violent flashes of neon,
Pink and red and green;
An eruption of raucous laughter,
Clattering ‘clack clack’ of heels.
The hungry-eyed pack stumbled past,
Leaving their boozy breath to linger
Among the air thick with desire
And the drifting wafts of Kung Pao.
People everywhere;
A cacophony of words
That were fired into the dark,
Like the blistering blaze of the city lights-
Whispers, shouts, fiery chants,
Sparks fizzling
Out into the throng of endless noise.
My lips were closed.
I walked, soaking it all in.
“Hey, Nath!”
I turned,
Alcohol, warm and sweet,
Greeted me on his slack mouth
Twisting into a laugh.
But before my lips formed the words,
A friendly, heavy arm flopped around him
And he was tugged away,
Eyes twinkling…
I walked on.
I heard his hearty chuckle
Dwindling away
And a smile bubbled across my face,
Shuffling along in my worn old Converse,
Immersed in the buzz;
Charged on the wild, intoxicated air
Of the frenzied night

Then her hair swung in the breeze.
That flurry of feathery blonde-
Only they weren’t my fingers
Running through the tendrils.
It wasn’t my mouth pressed to hers,
My body tangled in hers.

Someone shoved past me,
Shoulders sharp against mine,
Except I didn’t feel it.
I didn’t hear the hyena laughter,
The thud of club music,
The rush of cars.
I was drowning…
Choking on her distant,
Honey laughter.
I didn’t taste booze-laden air
Only bile,
Creeping slowly.
My hands didn’t feel the swing;
Didn’t feel the crack of knuckle
Against cheekbone
My throat didn’t feel the sting
Of burning bitter words,

All I saw was you
When the Earth stopped turning.

Announcement!

Hello!

It’s time for an announcement! I have set up a new blog dedicated to my ramblings where I will be moving my ‘Dear Diary’ weekly installments. I will post at least weekly so head on over here if you’re interested!

The reason for setting up a new site was to have separate spaces for my creative writing and my personal posts.

Thanks,

Dreamer Girl

Walking

I step from gravel to pavement and shut the gate. My fingers twist inside my pockets to find the soft grey gloves. As I slide them on, I feel the familiar press of boots on damp grass. By the time my headphones are pressed into my ears and I tap ‘play’ my legs have sped me halfway across the field. The crisp air bites at my cheeks, but it is refreshing. I can feel the blood rushing through me. I feel alive. And yet all I am doing is letting the automatic function in my brain push my legs backwards and forwards: left…right…left…right. The scents of sap from surrounding trees is strangely comforting. I press ‘pause’. The distant birdsong laces the quiet air. I slow down and soak in the sights of the sky and the stretching trees. Then, I zoom into the details. The mosaic of reflected rays in the puddle. The swishing ponytail of the runner in the distance. The press of the wind against my pink ears. Soon I am back at the gate, steeping from pavement to gravel and gravel to carpet. Bathing in the warmth of the house…


My favourite thing to do during the Christmas holidays is to go for walks because of the peacefulness. Regular walks offer a multitude of benefits not only to physical health, but mental and emotional wellbeing.

Why didn’t I think of presents, or having some precious family time, or even the Christmas movies? Why of all things did I choose walking? Well, I was thinking about past Christmases and someone I miss. While I was thinking about them, I remembered all the walks we went on, especially at Christmas time. On Christmas day some years, too. Walking isn’t something that I often think about, but I do a lot of it and often. I walk to school everyday, which takes about half an hour (or fifteen to twenty minutes if I’m late and having to speed-walk). Although I haven’t done it very recently, I like to go for walks as a break from revision. And even though I do like running, sometimes a walk is the one thing that I need to make me feel better when I’m sad or anxious. As a writer, going for walks is personally very useful.

Walking is one of our most basic functions and yet much of the Western population in particular has found issues with the rise of the sedentary lifestyle in recent years. According to the BBC News article from July 2012

‘One in three adults worldwide fails to do the recommended 150 minutes of moderate aerobic physical activity per week’

Although data may have changed since then, this is still a massive issue. The article points out that a sedentary lifestyle causes around ‘5.3 million deaths a year’ (‘based on estimates of the impact on inactivity on coronary heart disease, Type 2 diabetes, and two specific cancers — breast and bowel — where lack of exercise is a major risk factor.’). Walking is classed as a form of moderate aerobic physical activity, which is one of the reasons I think walking is so important for health, wellbeing and also as a break from daily life.

In the Guardian’s online article ‘Put you best foot forward: why walking is good for you’, a certified fitness professional, Jolynn Baca Jaekel summarised the benefits of walking:

“What I love about walking is that anyone can do it at any age and any fitness level. Plus it is good for your heart, your head and your wallet”

I have found that — and many articles comment on this — walking is often overlooked as a form of exercise in comparison to more intense forms like running or working out at the gym. Many people might consider walking to be a form of exercise solely for older generations and a lot of people my age would agree with that idea. However, walking can be just as beneficial to health, if not more in some situations, as running and similar activities.

According to the Guardian, regular walks can reduce stress levels and boost your mood. Also, a study at Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory in California found that brisk walking reduced the risk of heart disease by 9.3% in participants aged between 18 and 80 over a six-year period. This was higher than running, which reduced the risk of heart disease by only 4.5%.

So you don’t have to be intimidated by the fitness-fanatics in the gym to improve your health. This is an issue largely among girls and women rather than boys and men, which I understand. For a long time, although I went to the gym, I was very conscious about sweating and my face going red. To some people, this is an insignificant matter, but it took me months and months to build the confidence to push myself in the gym and get the most out of a workout without worrying about what others think. My point here is that walking is a great way to stay fit alongside building the confidence to do the more challenging sports or exercises. So don’t underestimate the power of a good walk!

The popular YouTuber ‘Sprinkle of Glitter’ aka Louise Pentland made a video highlighting some of these ideas. She commented that her way of keeping fit is taking brisk walks. The main point of her video is to explain the campaign ‘This Girl Can’, which aims to build confidence in women in terms of exercising. She says ‘it doesn’t matter what you do. It doesn’t matter what size you are..’ and ‘it’s about doing it’. So, you may be already ‘doing it’ without even realising. Either walking as a means of transport or during their free time. This is why I think it’s important to recognise the benefits of walking, especially regular walks.

In terms of mental and emotional wellbeing, walking can be the break you need to boost your mood, as mentioned according to the Guardian. I like to run when I’m angry or upset to release those emotions so that I can move one. But sometimes walking is a better way to relieve sadness or overwhelming emotions because it gives you a chance to pause and reflect. When you’re busy all day every day, it can be refreshing to just take a quiet peaceful walk. On the other hand, like I sometimes do, you can stick your headphones in and let your emotions flow with the music while you take in the surroundings. I find that walking through fields or woods and being around nature incredibly calming.

At Christmas time, a walk means a chance to spend time with family which I believe is more meaningful than a game of monopoly or falling asleep to a film with a bellyful of turkey. This is because all distractions are removed. You don’t even have to think about moving — it’s automatic. All of your attention can be focused on your thoughts and getting those into the (admittedly very cold) air is a relief is they have been weighing you down as well as a great way to bond. It’s beautiful when it snows, too.

Another personal reason that I love to go for walks is to help with my writing. The physical action of moving forward is a great way to combat negative thoughts rather than staying at home and letting myself sink into a dark mood. The change of scenery can offer inspiration for ideas, whether it’s a detailed description of the beautiful nature or a unique character as a result of people-watching.

The NHS Choices website stresses that walking should be made a habit. For example, my walk to school everyday. There are many simple ways to increase the amount of walking you do, like using the stairs more often than lifts; trying not to use a car for short journeys and making time for an after dinner stroll. There are tons of pedometer and health monitoring apps you can try, but it’s important not to get too bogged down in them. One I have used in the past is called ‘Moves’ and monitors walking, cycling or running (as long as you keep your phone with you) in terms of steps, distance, duration and even calories.

Personally, apart from travelling to places , I go for walks whenever I feel like it. You Beauty. com advises that you’d have to walk longer than you’d have to run for the same effect, so longer but regular walks are most effective if you want them to significantly impact your health.

Walking often is the free, easy way to improve your health and your mood. And it gives you a rare chance to pause from the rush of a busy life, leave technology behind if you want to, and just reflect on your thoughts. Walks are for everyone —family, friends or alone. With heavy metal screaming through headphones or absolute silence. Weaving through the bustling crowds of the city on your way to work or driving out into the countryside to have an hour-long walk in the hills. Don’t be a grumpy couch potato!


This post was written in response to the Daily Post Writing 201 challenge: ‘The Thoughtfully Considered Opinion Piece

Further reading:

  1. BBC News Article, July 2012 ‘Sedentary lifestyle can kill’ 
  2. The Guardian, June 2014 , ‘Put your best foot forward: why walking is good for you’
  3. You Beauty, July 2013 ‘Walking is Just as Good as Running’ 
  4. Louise’s (aka Sprinkle of Glitter) video: ‘This Girl Can’
  5. NHS Choices: ‘Walking for health’ 

How to be (or try your best to be) a good friend

Being a friend is one of the most important roles we have in life. Without friends life wouldn’t just be boring-we wouldn’t have anyone to laugh about all the stupid mistakes we make, ring up when we feel worthless and pour out our hearts to and share our passion for XYZ.

We make friends with people for a number of reasons. Proximity: the first person we see on our first day at school at the sandtray can often turn out to be our best friend just for that reason. Then there’s a shared interest or passion. The main point is that we have a choice with friends, unlike family. Though, some people don’t seem to realise this-me being one of them for a long time.

At age sixteen experienced is one thing I am not. However, I’ve had enough of them to know a fair bit about friends. And I can honestly say that I am not a bad friend. So here are my five tips based on what I have learned about friendship.

  1. Honesty. This isn’t just important. This quality can tell you straight away whether or not you should be friends with someone in the first place. Liars aren’t friends. The issue is being able tell if someone is lying. It took me two years to realise that my ‘best friend’ when I was ten was manipulating me and I was allowing her to bully me because I believed her lies. I let her tell me that I wasn’t clever or good enough and that knock to my confidence still affects me today. I was in such a close friendship with her that even when I had recognised that I was unhappy, I took a long time to break off our friendship. But it was worth all the tears and upset because now I have a much better set of friends. My closest friends are the ones I can trust to be open with and we are just honest with each other. I mean, you don’t have to tell them everything. Some things you have the right to keep to yourself. Most of my friends don’t know that I had counselling a few months ago. My family doesn’t even know that either. That doesn’t mean I’m a liar, though. That is my personal information to share with the people that I want to tell and hide from those that I don’t. My point is that I believe the importance in honesty is not spilling your every last secret to the other person, but feeling comfortable and happy enough to share your thoughts, feelings and ideas freely.
  2. YOU. A friendship is a relationship between two people and, of course, one of them is you. So be you! I don’t have much confidence, but I am not afraid to be me. I’ll be honest, sometimes I get tired of being me and I wish that I could be someone else, but I can’t and I just have to embrace my personality. Then again, if you’re in a pretty bad mood it doesn’t mean you should feel like you have to act happy for your friends. Being yourself is also being human, meaning you are allowed to have days where you feel terrible. Friends are there to help you through those times.
  3. THEM. And of course, there is the friend. Don’t be so wrapped up in your own life, problems and drama that you forget about theirs. There must be a balance of support between both friends for the relationship to work. So let them be THEM. They are allowed to be upset, angry, cranky just like you are. And even if you don’t quite understand how they feel, they need you to be there.This is really important because it’s easy to disregard something just because it doesn’t make any sense to us. But just showing the support they need is sometimes enough to help you friend. Though, you must know them and want to know about them. Tiny things build up, so let them tell you about their grandma’s favourite type of tea or their secret ability to ride a unicycle. You don’t have to remember every detail, but how can you expect to be friends with someone if you aren’t interested in them? This is what I find key in making new friends. Trying to ask questions about them is so much more effective than waffling about yourself. Don’t turn into the person that stops listening until it’s their turn to talk! Like I said, it’s all about balance.
  4. Fun. Relationships can be complicated, difficult and just plain confusing; especially during the teenage years when there’s bitching, gossiping, immaturity, hormones, drama and all that jazz. However, we mustn’t forget that friendship IS about having fun as well as the mutual support. Often having fun comes from just being yourself and letting go. A lot of people seem to think that those who laugh loudest and act craziest have the most fun. Well, I don’t think that’s true at all. Most of the times I’ve had a load of fun have been simply hanging out, walking to and from school and on the odd occasion through a phone call. We didn’t need alcohol. We didn’t have to do anything particularly silly or stupid. We didn’t need to force it. We simply made jokes or chatted or played twister (yes, I know I’m sixteen years old. Yes, it’s still acceptable to play twister, I don’t care what anyone thinks. ) and had some fun.
  5. Sometimes it doesn’t work out. Don’t beat yourself up about it. People change, things change, life moves on. Some friends will stick with you and some won’t-just like you do or don’t for others. Seeing people around school that I was once very close to laughing and talking with people I don’t even know is hard, especially when I wonder how things might have been different if I  hadn’t let our friendship fizzle out. But then I have to remind myself of all the great things I could have missed if that had happened. So the most important thing I believe to remember is to make sure you hold on to the friends you really love, and the for the ones you lose, there will be more to make. And even if you fight and do things you regret, there are ways back if they were (are!) a true friend. I called up my friend who now goes to a different school today. I haven’t seen her in person since October and I couldn’t help feeling kind of sad that I don’t see her everyday like I used to. I don’t make silly doodles in the margins of her notebooks or flick through mine to find hers. She doesn’t sit with me at lunchtime and laugh at the way I eat a panini. We don’t look across the room at each other and laugh at something only we find funny. But that’s okay. I mean, there isn’t going to be someone to do all of those things and be the brilliant person and friend the way she had, but there will be new people that do other things. One day I will look back and there will be so many memories and little things people do that makes part of their personality and part of their friendship with me that I won’t remember them all. That cheers me up.

In the end,the key to friendship and being a good friend is not through a set of rules. There is no recipe (and even if it was, it would be a souffle or something pretty darn hard!).

When you’re little your parents and schoolteachers try to teach you to be kind and respectful and polite. But they don’t teach you how to deal with the huge number of assholes you come across in your life. You have to make your way past them and learn to let go of them when you realise that no, they are not friends, they are simply assholes.

Even when you find the best friend or the group of friends you love, no one tells you that puberty and parents deciding to move across the country and just change in general have chosen to shake everything up like a tacky snowglobe. You land on the ground and have to start rebuilding again, whether it’s your fault or not. And that’s before people start dating. No one warns you that you are going to end up being the fifth wheel on what should be a double date; or that you and your best friend would have a crush on the same person. Or even that you might have to face heartbreak alone.

Friendship is harder than it seems. Often harder than romantic relationships. But I know that it’s worth it. It’s worth all of the tears, all of the lonely years and all of the pain because one day you look around and every face you see you trust and love.

This was a (late, sorry!) response to the writing challenge for Writing 201

The Trail

I leave a trail.

The half-eaten sandwich;

Traces where mascara and tears splashed

As they rolled down flushed cheeks;

The stain of painted lips pressed against cold glass,

Or the white paper cup;

Fading scents of vanilla perfume

That linger where limbs have been;

Long hairs that fell from the sweeping chestnut locks

I left my trail,

Never to be followed by you.

Just Let Me Fly

Water trickles from the tap weakly, cold and numb on my hands. I slap my cheeks and stare at the puffy circles beneath each eye in the grimy mirror. Stale alcohol lingers on my breath. Distant voices blare from the hotel-room’s old TV. I can’t tell what the program is-I don’t care. It’s better than the silence.

I dry my face, dragging the rough cotton over my face. Falling on the linoleum with a small crack, the rail breaks from the wall as I throw the towel. I don’t think. I just kick it against the yellowing bath tub. I kick again and again, as the curses spill from my lips.

I am on the floor. My throat is raw with the taste of bile. Flexing my fingers, I feel jagged pieces of plastic dig into my skin. There’s a pile of them circling my aching body. I slide them into a line. None of the edges fit together anymore. I stare at the wall and the only signs of damage are the two metal hooks, which are still intact. Leaving the broken pieces, I drag myself out to the balcony, letting the noise from the TV drift from the open door. A stretch of blistering orange behind bleak buildings. The street below is empty, apart from two children who are chasing each other up and down. A boy of no more than twelve and a girl of eight. She screams as he darts towards her with a stick. I don’t understand what they are saying.

***

Two sets of eyes stare down at me. I can’t hear the words they whisper. Neither of them remove their gaze from my face. Knotty brown tendrils fall from the young face and tickle my cheek. Still not faltering the stare, as she lowers her face towards mine I feel her small hands curl round my shoulders. She bats away the older arms that try to pull hers away.  Attempting to shake me, her face contorts with the strain. I don’t move. Then, droplets splatter on my face and in my eyes. Some fall down my cheeks and into my mouth. I can taste her salty tears. She closes her eyes slowly, tears coating her long eyelashes. An arm embraces her and she is pulled away.

I stare up at the thinning strip of sun. I cannot move. All I feel is the hard concrete beneath me. Sticky pools of crimson glue my limbs to the ground. Why did I jump?

***

In the breeze, my t-shirt ripples across my back and chest. My knees shake slightly as I edge my feet forward slightly. My heart beats fast in my mouth, my head, and my ears.

I whisper to the air: Just take me, just let me fly, even if I fall. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere.

I want to turn up the volume of the TV, but I have gone too far to go back. I remember the bridge. Looking down at the grey concrete I wonder, would the river have been any better?

A strangled shriek shoots my eyes towards the little girl. She is yanking her brother’s arm, pointing at me, but it is too late He sees me, too. Shaking my head, I step down, off the edge. ‘I wasn’t going to-‘ I stop because they don’t understand. With all my strength I tug the corners of my mouth upwards. But I cannot smile. Even from this distance, I can see her lips trembling. My head is still shaking. I step away from them; I don’t want their innocent eyes on me. They can’t see me, not like this.

I perch on the bed again, staring at the TV, but not watching it. Just shapes moving around, just colours. I recognise the voices…Richard Gere. I try to focus on the shapes. Slowly, the figures on the screen become clearer. It is Richard Gere. And what’s-his-name. I know the film because it’s Jeanne’s favourite.

***

I can feel her laughing. Her golden hair falling in waves down her back. She shouts, imitating the accent, “Did you see that bodacious set of tatas?” Laughter bursts from my lips.

What is the name of that goddamned film? I turn the TV off.

***

Even if I had stayed, even if she were sitting beside me in this moment, she would still be a hundred miles away. A distance I will never get back.

(742 words)


This is a response to the Grammar Ghoul Press Writing Challenge #6

<a href=”http://www.grammarghoulpress.com/gg-writing-challenge-6-open”><img src=”http://www.grammarghoulpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/gg-wkbadge2.png”></a&gt;

This week’s prompts were:

Bodacious

homesickness

Homesickness by  René Magritte

Also, the film I was referring to was ‘An Officer and a Gentleman’, which was where I found the inspiration of how to use bodacious in my story.

Two Hearts

She opens the doors to the hundreds of hungry eyes. Once they have ran a calculating gaze over the ruffle of short blonde waves down to the thick black boots, they snap their heads back to their own packs of friends. She smacks her lips together, her nervous habit, scanning the faces. A few smiles. Her friends chattering away. One of them beckons her, and she trudges over. Her eyes still scan the remaining faces. Smoothing down her coat as she slumps into a chair, absent minded greetings slip from her lips. Her eyes aren’t on her friend, but they have stopped searching. Midst a sea of bodies, limbs motioning as they cram food into their mouths or cram knowledge into their brains; the great gesticulations of gossip and colliding snippets of conversation, he sits. His eyes lock on to her gaze across the room through the wisps of his dark fringe. The tiny quiver of her lips ushers a thousand words only he can read.

An exchange of flickering glances and telling smiles-a language only known to them- between their dips into conversation with surrounding friends. Buzzing in her mind, the thoughts rise and rise until she cannot hear the meaningless chattering around her. All she wants is to be with him, away from all these bodies-motioning limbs, colliding conversations…

Fingers interlaced, they stand in the cold air. Two warm hearts beating wildly; two bodies slipped out of the crowd. But now, as she stares into the crystal blue eyes, she smiles because she no longer has anything to say.


Today I was watching my friend looking across the room at her boyfriend (who is also my friend). The way they could have their own conversation through a crowd of people, made up of tiny mouth movements and gesture, was fascinating. I think I was the only one that had noticed, and I almost felt like I’d invaded their private moment. Luckily neither of them noticed me.

When I Could Finally Breathe

I watched the sheets of water crash down on to the pavement, which glinted in the pale moonlight. Once again, the thoughts rose in my belly and into my throat. He was choking me. The dark eyes, the familiar earthy scent wrapped around my skin, encasing my body in the memory of him. He’s not here anymore, he has gone, I tell myself. But my mind wanders on through every trace of him that is left to swallow. The blue T-shirt. The deep laugh, a contagious rumbling. I hadn’t laughed for months.

***

The hat still rested on the table, ‘Taylor Swift’ printed across it. Running my finger over the stitching, I could feel his smile.

‘Okay, okay,’ he waved his hands in the air in surrender. His arms were so long that they nearly hit the roof of the car.  ‘You’re right. I did like the concert. She actually can sing.’

‘Actually can sing!’ I scoffed, ‘You loved it!’ His smile burst into a chuckle. He mussed up my hair, grinning as I scowled at him and plonked the hat on top. Then, he leaned in to whisper, ‘She’s pretty hot,too.’ Laughing at my poor attempt to punch him, he grabbed my waist and the war began. Fits of giggles erupted, as we tickled each other, filling the air with our flood of happiness.

‘I love you,’ the words escaped his lips breathlessly. It was the first time he had ever spoken those words to me. My mouth dropped open. And slowly, it curved into the biggest smile. ‘I love you,too.’

He shifted the handbrake and we drove home.

***

Zipping up my coat, I cursed as it jammed. Screw it. I threw the layer of warmth and protection on the floor. The thud of the rain hitting the pavement like bullets entranced me, guiding me to the front door. With one swift motion I was under the fire of the blades of water.

Every strike pierced another memory. Carrying every trace of him, flowing over my skin and away, coursing along the shimmering ground. My skin was alight with the explosions of each tiny droplet as it fired against me. The grip around my throat had melted away, soaked into my sodden clothes. The buzz of numbness, the shock of the coldness against my skin made me alive. Electricity fired through my veins. No longer the heavy shroud of pain. My heartbeat raced faster than it ever had with him. That’s when I could finally breathe.

The Hub Challenge #2: Planting a Lyric Seed

The Prompt – Run (or walk) to the nearest music playing device (radio, iPod, record player, 8-track) and turn it on.  Select a lyric from the first, random song you hear.  Use that lyric in a piece of writing of your choosing (fiction, non-fiction, poem, letter, etc.).  The Twist – work the name of the artist into your writing as well.

I was inspired to write this by Taylor Swift’s “Clean” from her new album 1989.