"Mr. Writer, why don't you tell it like it is? Why don't you tell it like it really is before you go on home."
***
Sometimes a pen-name is all it takes for the truth to come out - even if it reaches nobody in particular. It's a clean start, where I get to tell it like it isn't, or maybe like it is - who would know?
***
She woke early that morning - it seemed to her the sun had peered through the window and kissed her cheeks before its time; they were rosy already. Squinting, she glared at the whisps of cloud in the sky, cursing them for not being thicker and allowing her to lay in, but her gaze soon softened as she opened the window; let spring's fresh scent reach and fill her nostrils, pulling her hair back from her neck. A gentle tremble passed down her spine, reaching forward into her stomach as it wrapped its arms about her body, wracking her in shivers.
She could already hear the movements of her busy-body neighbour, whose real name she never could pinpoint - it seemed to change regularly. Wheeling the bin down his garding path, he was grumbling audibly as usual. Her gaze shifted from the elderly man to his house. His navy-blue curtains were drawn across the windows, keeping the sunlight and its joy from its depths.
She spoke at a near whisper, words secretly aimed at the eldery man, "Oh, Mister... Couldn't you open the windows and let the sun in today?" She sighed softly, kneeling up on her bed and gazing out of the window, arms folded. "Why can't you tell it like it is, instead of adding rain to the sunny days - there is some good in life, just let it in." There was a sharp rapping against her bedroom door, "It's knocking - can you hear it?"
-
She woke early that morning - it seemed to her the sun had peered through the window and kissed her cheeks before its time; they were rosy already. Squinting, she glared at the whisps of cloud in the sky, cursing them for not being thicker and allowing her to lay in, but her gaze soon softened as she opened the window; let spring's fresh scent reach and fill her nostrils, pulling her hair back from her neck. A gentle tremble passed down her spine, reaching forward into her stomach as it wrapped its arms about her body, wracking her in shivers.
She could already hear the movements of her busy-body neighbour, whose real name she never could pinpoint - it seemed to change regularly. Wheeling the bin down his garding path, he was grumbling audibly as usual. Her gaze shifted from the elderly man to his house. His navy-blue curtains were drawn across the windows, keeping the sunlight and its joy from its depths.
She spoke at a near whisper, words secretly aimed at the eldery man, "Oh, Mister... Couldn't you open the windows and let the sun in today?" She sighed softly, kneeling up on her bed and gazing out of the window, arms folded. "Why can't you tell it like it is, instead of adding rain to the sunny days - there is some good in life, just let it in." There was a sharp rapping against her bedroom door, "It's knocking - can you hear it?"
-
1 comment:
Interesting to know.
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