Writing Cont

I included what I posted last time, and this has the continuation of it. It's still rough and I haven't perfected it so.....sorry

She was Fall

She was the season Autumn. Every vibrant, defined shade. The breeze that sent the leaves dancing. She was the scarf wrapped around your neck. She was the blazing that set every tree on fire. The evergreens that held their ground. The leaves falling from grace, the trickles of the brook that got your shoes wet. She was the spirit splashing from puddle to puddle and smiling at your reflection beside her. The aroma of the ripened fruit, the pies, the laughter of family and friends. The laborious work in preparation for Winter and the child-like intensity of being carefree, destined only to play in the leaves. She was your lover walking through the park with you. The student enjoying the crisp air, an artist dying to paint. She was the grey sky that spanned above you, keeping your eyes on a limited plane.

That cat sitting in front of your fire? That’s her. The soft pittering of the rain outside your window, breaking you from your thoughts. She is the deep jacket you slip on for a night in the city, the anticipation for snow, the water that tickles your feet as it seeps into your socks, the lightning outside your window.  She is the child silently waiting at the window for whatever the last passerby can only imagine.

She is the red as deep, dark, and bright as the leaves. The lingering smell of the rain on your mind.

*********************************************

He touched the crimson red dress she was wearing when he first saw her. One flowered strap – white, springy flowers down her left shoulder. The folds down her torso. It was like she was sitting in a red and white rose. Down to her feet, which wore nothing, she was spinning in the grass, ebony hair flying around her like a halo.

January 13, 2004

I heard laughing. Laughing unlike most. Rich and pure.  Her medium-long hair that cascaded naturally around her shoulders danced in the sunlight, around each petal of her dress.             She spun around, laughing, eyes turned up towards the sky in a gleeful laughter of joy. Of just being here. The sound of letting go entirely and losing yourself in that feeling. That genuine happy.

                It puzzles me why she was so happy. I’d say it was borderline hysterical. Not right, in a way because it so uncommon, but still beautiful, because it was real. What could make her so happy with that kind of joy?

~

January 17, 2005

I found her today. The beautiful girl with the crimson red dress that never left my mind. She was the subject of every creative writing paper I ever wrote for the past year.

But she was sad, and it broke my heart a little. A part of her seemed to have died and the damage on her heart showed through her eyes. I admit I got a little angry at whoever would do such a thing to her, but I could never know for sure.

She was the girl in blue today. Winter. Her dress was strapless, falling down to just above her knees. Again she was barefoot, her toes pink at the frosty grass.  She was a snowflake, twirling to its end. The silver patterns of swirls and white rings on her dress sparkled in the few rays of sun that the clouds let through, contrasting the icy blue shade behind them. A white ribbon was tied in her hair, over her top layer that was pulled back, but the bottom she let hang freely.

As she twirled she was slower than last time, almost as if she were enchanted by some unseen force, slowly taking control of her small body. She held her arms out only slightly as she closed her eyes, looking up as if getting lost. I believe she lost the importance of time in that moment, as if she had really found something worth thinking about and was just letting go. Maybe she was tired of fighting. Or tired of being hurt. I don’t know.

The pinkness of her flushed cheeks and nose were starting to get to her hands and I was actually starting to worry about her health. Although, the sweet color on her face made me study it more. She definitely wasn’t at ease, like last time. Something was troubling her she couldn’t get rid of. She fell into the grass softly and I wondered whether to go out or not. After about thirty-seconds I did, and she was crying.