|Erased all of my previous work to show off my new stuff.|
1-5 Brewing Storms, Not Coffee11-5 Brewing Storms, Not Coffee by HiddenGalaxy
The storm was brewing. The seagulls that flew against the dark coal sky appeared as contrasting white blurs, filling the sky with even more abstractness, almost appearing as if it were all a dream. Awful gusts whacked against thin trees and slammed against brick homes and gushing waves crashed against flooding shores and small storefronts. How much longer would the sky cry? How much longer would it yell and roar? Why was it so angry?
Or was it hurt? Or lonely? Or sad? Was it feeling like me as I watch it commence in my flooded doorway? The panic I felt when the first wave washed in through the weak door, why was I crying?
“Wipe your eyes,” she said. “Go get some sleep too.”
I did as she said and when the cascading sea drained, a bright, sunny day reflected out of my glassy eyes. It was nice outside, but she was right, I needed sleep. But, the storm was only brewing.
A dark heap of material lay
Five More MinutesA dark heap of material lay over my body like a comforting cocoon. I didn’t want to get up. It was too hard to move. We have to go, she said. I rolled over.Five More Minutes by HiddenGalaxy
I heard her tempered footsteps slowly begin to trail up the wooden stairs. I’ll be down soon, I replied and then added, in a minute. Her footsteps trailed off in the opposite direction. Five more minutes. I didn’t want to see him, but I did. I dreaded this. I was in absolute agony. I propped one of my arms up, and struggled with the second.
I heaved a heavy sigh and sat up on my knees. This wasn’t good anymore, this small trip. It was bad, it was embarrassing. I couldn’t believe myself thinking I had a chance, a chance with a league so far away that only the best could reach and would actually deserve to keep. I wasn’t the best, I was moderate. On the line. I didn’t deserve that prize, I didn’t deserve any prize. He wasn’t mine to take. I couldn’t