Summer B - Day 2

Author's Note: 

This is just a fun little activity, I didn't really edit anything at all. I originally had these writings scribbled in my journal, took around 10 minutes or less to write them. I just come up with ideas on the spot, it makes me happy and it feels like a mind exercise to keep my imagination strong and flowing. Enjoy these really short little stories! I asked a couple of new friends for prompt ideas and this is what I came up with. 

What would you have written differently for these prompts? :)

 Мальчик в облаке

By: Drusilla Ugolini

prompt suggested by tai - cloud in the sky, can either be alone or have many friends. 

One cloud, one sole cloud born from tears wept, calloused hands brushing them off. This cloud, threads gracefully, aimlessly, so beautifully lost in the neverending sky. Undefined, never truly formed. Merely a humble cloud that passersby look upon, cast a gaze, then look away. An insignificant, like any other cloud. But the sole cloud had a secret. There in all of its floating delicate mass curled up like a weeping child laid a little snow-haired boy, light and frail as a feather, sheltered by this sole cloud. In his arms, holding as tight as he could close to his chest were stars. Small stars. Entrancing and magnificent - their light never going out, nor waning, nor dimming. The boy never once shed a tear as he lay in the lonely cloud. He curled up in the cotton ship as a passenger of the sky - sometimes peaceful and sometimes quite treacherous. The stars kept his hope intact, his soul aflame, while the cloud kept the tiny boy safe and nestled in its soft chest. This cloud born from tears became a vessel of hope, a passage through the sky, and a keeper of dreams. This boy’s dreams. In its delicate and velvety womb of air encasing a boy as fragile as glass. 

Pretty Pink Shoes

By: Drusilla Ugolini

prompt suggested by isa - personify shoes.

**context: vera is a pair of abandoned shoes, in an abandoned home, watching her surroundings age.

Vera sat in the corner of her room, a room she was certain she’d never see the outside of again. These four walls she had seen grow more than she ever had, paintings would come and go through the endless days. The colors of the walls would change - a vivid pretty pink turned into a sickly pale yellow with paint peeling off the walls and dark brown crease marks stretching across the walls and ceiling. Everything ever so slowly changed. She, however, remained unchanged. As if glued to her, a part of her, the clothes she wore began to wear her instead. It became her skin, her identity. This pastel pink fabric was sewn into her very being day after day. Vera was unable to detach from this pink coat stuck to her body. She had been sitting in this four-walled room for what seemed like an eternity, the only thing remaining constant was her. Shackled by time she sat in this unfamiliar room, this rotting prison, the only world she had ever known or will know. Vera remembered when she had a purpose. A reason. Now all she was good for was catching dust. The old marks of soil clinging to the edges of the pink fabric like an ugly stain was now a haunting reminder of what she was and never will be again. 

.

i know the thought infiltrates your mind when you're alone,

in the deepest darkest hours of the night

my name calls to you.

i see it in that facade when your eyes stare back at that pale,

thoughtless reflection.