Writing Challenge (Day 3): Object Writing

Session 1 (5 minutes): Umbrella

I walk and while the sturdy and crooked shield surrounds my body, I find raindrops crawling through the air and latching onto my feet, my shoes, my calves. The water is like a disease. It takes hold of the fibers of my pants and begins to insert itself between the threads.. between the atoms. I feel my emotions shrivel as the water infests my socks, and grasps onto my toes. Anticipating the moment when I can defeat the irritation lingering in my mind, my pace quickens, yet I find that this increase in speed and breath sounds, I am also feeding the diseased water. It finds the quickening invigorating and thrives in its attack on my sanity and dry…

Session 2 (10 minutes): Hair

Hello, my name is Society. I have been thinking about hair for quite a while. Not just anyone’s hair.. but women’s hair. I see hair as a pivotal determining factor of women and their value. I see women as only a canvas for their hair to paint over. It should be long, bouncy, beautiful, vivid in color, but natural, no chemical products placed to tarnish the natural value hair has. If it is short, people must consider that women to be a tomboy or possibly lesbian. If there is no hair, the woman is obviously sick and we should treat her this way. If her hair is not natural in color, but instead exotic, she is obviously a rebel, and she has tattoos and drinks quite a bit with the occasional drug here and there. If her hair is greasy, she is obviously a dirty person who never showers. I have determined that everyone must have the corresponding hairstyle for their designated social niche. Wow, now that I have been thinking about hair, I have realized how much I love perfection and judgement. Judgement is a way of life, it should be thrown into everyone’s head, forcefully but nonchalantly. I think I will convince everyone that they don’t judge, but that they are just being honest with themselves and their thoughts are justified. You know what, now that I think about it, why doesn’t everyone just determine each other’s worth based on how they look. Why don’t I make it extremely difficult to be liked if you look a certain way? That sounds like a wonderful idea. Yes, I will do that. And everyone will be so excited…

Session 3 (90 seconds): Feather

I often imagine what it would be like to be a feather. Falling would no longer be terrifying or dangerous. After being released in the air, the air doesn’t strike your body, it caresses it. You embrace the air and welcome it to your gentle body. And as you approach the ground – you hope for the earth…

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Writing Challenge (Day 2): Object Writing

Session 1 (5 minutes): Bathroom Mirror

Standing weighed down by the horrors of self-loathing pulses ebb. No, pulses flow and the room is lit on fire. But I don’t mind the burn. Maybe it can melt my insecurities so that they drip off of me like the remnants of a gentle rain on rejuvenated saplings. The globules of self-conciousness form a leveled puddle on the ground and I use the structure as a pedestal so that I am lifted above my self-inflicted restrictions – lifted above the mirror which paints me – my body – slapdash and unkept for the audience of my mind to roar and judge. I see refuse hit the mirror as my audience becomes…

Session 2 (10 minutes): Dentist

Curious how the burliest of men can be intimidated by a man in a white coat. White – traditionally exuding purity and peace. But the white is tainted through metallic beings of torture. The body is entranced by the low whirs and hums of insect-like contraptions that infect the mouths of the helpless damsels in hidden distress. The light penetrates the film shielding the eye and its glowing – the fear of the trapped damsel is illuminated and shocks flow from the thin film to the thickest of callouses until his skin disintegrates and becomes that of a young toddler – a small child – unaware of the horrors of life. Welcoming and naice, the child invites the insects until they betray him and he ignites – the poping sparks infest diamon like surfaces and unveil the sensitivity within. The master moces with such elegance and grace – menaically and I become him – staring at the heap od shrivelling muscles and increasingly sinewy bones. I disappear from my seat and what remains is pure innocence; a glowing shell of acceptance soon to be shattered by…

Session 3 (90 seconds): Screwdriver

While trying to build a life – a structure – progress itself. I find myself struggling to hold on as the world rotates around my hand – my head – yet I have no control of its decisions. I struggle to hold onto my handle – my part of the…