Writing Challenge (Day 4): Object Writing

Session 1 (5 minutes): Curb

I sit and wait for something to approach my resting place. A place soaked in a temporary moment. The rough edges of my seat only inspire me to leave my perch. Yet, I remain anticipating forever. My place – my perch – is not inviting yet it calls to the continuation of life. As I bask in the glory of my moment of rest, I see something in the distance. It approaches in a tempting way. Sulking through the atmosphere like a somber feline. But the sadness calls to me. It reminds me of some moment I can’t quite recall and maybe it’s because I don’t want to. Maybe it is something I have tried to forget. I shift uncomfortably in my place and I realize my rest has bitten me and I feel a small pain in my thighs where they rested on the concrete…

Session 2 (10 minutes): Bouquet

While most girls see the glorious and vibrant flowers atop a bouquet, I can only anticipate the thorns. I’m scared to hold a bouquet and I am scared to catch one. For once I do, I will only be mesmerized for a moment until that moment is punctured by the inconsistencies of life – the thorns. They will catch my flesh and rip ever so gently. I will find it to be only irritating. But, it does not take long for an infection to spread once on ignores the initial cut, and that is what most people love to ignore.

But the flowers – their petals – invite my eyes and mask my worries. Their vibrancy and sheer bliss contained in vessels of beauty. They tell me to forget about negativity. To take the hardened edges of life from my body, and shed them. The bouquet leaves me unarmed and almost controlled. The curves of each flower become the curves of mountains, who inspire with their majesty – a mountain which I can climb, and once surmounted I am promised to reach utter happiness.

And as I am deterred from reality, I reach the peak, find the happiness, embrace the bouquet, only to rediscover its essence of ephemerality…

Session 3 (90 seconds): Rain Cloud

Billowing ripples of excessive fluff. The remnants of an industrial size pillow fight. The illusion of comfort hiding the reality of damp disappointment. Promises broken…

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