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ordinary day
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ordinary day |
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Allysa 
since 1999-11-09
Posts 1952In an upside-down garden 
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The remains of an ice cream sundae melted in the bowl on the coffee table next to her feet. Useless commercials flashed across the television; she had chocolate smudges decorating the smile spread across her face. She clasped her hands in her lap and wiggled her toes, admiring the glittering red nailpolish that covered them. The walls in the room were decorated with pieces of her; the canvases stretched and painted, each one filled with different shapes, vibrant and dull colors. A confused portrayal of the same emotion. The bewildered girl glanced around her, afraid of the pieces of her life that surrounded her. Her train of thought was interrupted, briefly by the ringing phone and she moved slightly to answer it, eyes still focusing on that one particular painting hanging directly ahead of her. "Hello?" she asked by found she was speaking to no one; nothing but a dial tone. She replaced the phone on the cradle, amused by the smudges of crimson that now decorated it. "I'd rather be a blueberry," she muttered, and chuckled to herself. Oh, those were the days. With a slight shake of her head, she regained focus on the painting, distracted only by the color staining her hands, acrylic paint smeared on her palms, across her fingers. Crimson. She hummed to herslef as her television moaned on, pausing only to utter the words "you make me happy, when skies are gray". It was out of her hands, the world was out of her hands. Painting an attempt at escaping, deseperately exchanging parts of her for something a little more subtle, more normal. She violently tugged at the short strands of her hair, eyes unmoving. Unshaken. She touched her face, felt the cold paint smudging her imperfect skin. the paint was still wet, smearing with every move of her hand. She slid her fingers across the fabric of her jeans, the skin of her feet. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," She sang as she stood up, stepped over the coffee table that she had once been resting her feet upon. Slowly she approached the wall, the haunting painting that she had only just hung earlier that day. Reaching out one shaking hand, she touched it, the paint rubbing off on her hands. She pressed her fingers, her palm into the painting, savoring the touch of the masterpiece on her hand. Almost suddenly, she pulled her hand away, pressing it quickly into the whiteness of the wall. The crimson paint as thick as blood stained the perfect cement. She sent her hand sweeping down, smearing the hand print across the wall, and, stepping back, she admired the work of just another ordinary day. |
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| © Copyright 2004 Allysa - All Rights Reserved | |||
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miscellanea Member Elite
since 2004-06-24
Posts 4060OH |
Very interesting writing! An ordinary day? the writing is definitely not ordinary! Intriguing. miscellanea |
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Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
Allysa, A very intriguing write. Seems you should do some more. You have a nice comfortable style. Yet you push us to think outside of ourselves. Hope you write some more prose.  If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, |
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latearrival Member Ascendant
since 2003-03-21
Posts 5499Florida |
Allysa, I apologize for not posting to your writing. Fact is I always read you.You have a special talent, placing people right where you are. Enjoying you. Keep writing. martyjo |
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nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
I listen top the commercials and infomercials ...too many...boring my days (I don't have cable) Anyway you brought back memories and I am sure your poetry walls are stained with talent.  M |
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the_girl_next_door Senior Member
since 2006-02-26
Posts 591USA |
This was amazing. Great job. I agree with the others.. you have a lot of talent. I can't wait to read more from you.. ~Heather~ Desire nothing except desirelessness. Hope for nothing except to rise above all hopes. |
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