Words appear so conspicuous, yet they are the one thing that always levels us on the edge of our world.
Swirling through the door, his leather coat covered in the frost of the urban dwellers, he gently pulls the door shut despite the barbaric manner he tore the hinges upon arrival. While his eyes adjust to the light, it’s always similar, but different due to a notion of familiarity, he braces his back up against the back of the door. A quick chuckle of irony pierces his lips and as heat strikes the air, white pours from his mouth into a waterfall till it disappears quickly into the ambiguity.
His mind races through his predicament as he skews his daily tokens throughout his quarters. His jacket hits the couch with a hallow thud, his key slap on wood flatting out like the legs of a metal spider, and then he swings himself onto a chair which at one time was placed consciously where it currently stands with his palms sinking into his cheeks. “How does one forget the heat in this climate? Everything is freezing.”
His elbows rested on a table chistled before he was, and after that a window as large as the wall. The entire wall was actually a window. It was bizarre architecture, as it is now, but nevertheless he thought of the unique structure as the pinnacle of his complex. Wisks of snow covered the rusting structures that held each rectangular piece of never melting ice in place.
“Maybe…they lost my payment” The heat of his words broke away at a patch of the frost that covered the landscape from inside his room. The intensity of the opposite prevented a clear view of the outside, and ice crawled quickly back into place, but not fast enough for him to notice a man in the window. Perplexed, heat deliberately left his body. Curiosity throws him from the preconceived to the inconceivable. The window panel shivered, slivered for a moment of brief recollection, and then spidered into organic jagged lines that crept from underneath the frost, underneath himself.
For these cracks are not just fractures of glass, but faults in a universal substrate – they are the facts.
Grr. First creative piece, per say. I’m no good at this stuff. My mind zig zags between ideas, and literally leaps from one opinion to the other; therefore, my fingers have trouble keeping up, or anyone else for that matter. Formulating coherent stories is a difficult thing, and anyone that has the ability to has earned my respect with my pathetic attempt.
Feel free to add to this. I hope to finish it someday.