Scenes
A thread for creative writing pieces depicting descriptive scenes that evoke certain moods and feelings.
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It's a sunny day. There is a bit of a hot, stale air that pervades the rooms, but there is a feeling of hope and optimism. A little bit of dusting and wiping, and boxes are ready to be opened, and the clutter is ready to be changed into something functional.
An optimistic C major theme reflects the optimistic mood and the midday sunshine that beams in. Carrying stuff into the building is sweaty but rewarding work, because it gives way to a
What starts as a barren room with but a desk, a bookcase, a chair, a bed, and a closet, begins to teem with character, as the desk is adorned by books and pens and pencils and stationery and a computer, the bookcase becomes occupied by books, the chair's back now hangs a backpack, the bed gains sheets atop it and sundry supplies beneath it, and the closet is filled with clothes and shoes. And of course the window still streams in sunlight.
These walls -- some concrete, some drywall, all painted white -- might be filled with posters at some point. This desk might be adorned with photographs later. But for now, they can wait.
Wandering the halls reveals one room that's richly adorned in all matching colors. A bit on the tacky side, but certainly stylish. Questionably practical though. Another room has a remarkably complex and well-designed loft created from wooden beams likely purchased from a local hardware store...or a past occupant. That puts the bed up high, making lots of room...but is it a good idea to put the desk down there, blocking light from the fluorescent lamp on the ceiling or daylight from the window?
It's 8 PM. I'm going to sleep soon. So soon after dinner, because I've got a long day tomorrow. I've got my alarm set for, like 5 AM to catch that early morning flight. It'll be the dawn of a new day, literally and figuratively.
I don't usually go to sleep this early. It feels weird to do so. I'm not sure whether it's the anticipation or the fact that I'm not tired yet. Maybe it's both. But it's definitely a rare but familiar feeling, that anticipation.
A multitude of unanswered questions cross my mind. What will this new job be like? Where will it take me? Can I succeed or will I fail? Far away from home, how well can I survive?
I can but attempt to comfort myself with a divine sense of assurance that everything will be all right.
It won't make these questions any easier to answer. But perhaps it may bring me peace for now. After all, tomorrow will be a new day.
at midnight falls
the cooling drops
on cheek they strike
a stillness shown
by rain and shade
with water paint
and freeze the state
of world so loud
no voice is heard
of course, it's late
and wet and no
one bathes in rain
but silence speaks
the raindrops' tap
and stops and takes
one from one's track
where does all go?
the rain that falls
we shield ourselves
to push away
but as we act
we suffer thirst
where was that rain
that we so spurned?
the rain and night
some see as sad
and sunny days
are happy ones
but integral
a part of life
a part of us
both night and rain