literature

Fire and Ice

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HawkeyeRiza37's avatar
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Literature Text

          She loved the cold. She loved it outside, where it would cause her breath dance before her eyes. She loved it in the car, when the northern wind streaming through the open window rushed through her long, flowing hair. She loved it in her apartment, when it flowed over her naked body; as she embraced it, wondered at it, and allowed it to take her, utterly, from warm reality.
          And at this moment, she loved it in the office, as it crawled through unseen holes in the thick glass windows, snaked its way between cracks in the concrete wall, and emerged in thin tendrils into the room, raising goosebumps all across her body as they lightly stroked her skin. At her desk, she was still to feel them, her palm open and fingers spread. The cold wound through her fingers, grasped gently at her welcoming hand. She closed her eyes, that sensation becoming all she could perceive.
          And yet, she still heard the door open, still heard the plodding footfalls that came from his heavy boots, heard the first silence that came while he went about his business, the second when she knew his eyes must be upon her, heard his lips part as if to question her, then close when he decided to leave her be, and then the return of footsteps when he made his way to the door.
          Her eyes, without her consent, opened to peek at the intruder. They focused, as they always did, on his right hand, stared intently at the folds in his soft, white gloves that outlined his fingers; they stared, as they always did, without allowing her to speak, and without allowing emotion into the face they occupied. They stared, as they always did, until he and his hand, curled faintly in relaxation, were out of sight.
          From them spilled hot, bitter tears she hated but could not stop. They flowed down her cheeks, bringing unwanted heat to her face; they ran down her neck and soaked the black T-shirt that hid beneath her blue uniform, dampening only the ebony fabric down to her collar bone. They clung to strands of her hair, causing them to stick uncomfortably to her flesh. They were the warm, too warm, product of a harsh, burning reality, and she despised them.
          But, oh, how she loved the cold.
Inspiration for this came from two things:

1) I passed through a small hallway at school today that had one wall made-up entirely of windows. At the time it was, I think, 4 degrees F. outside, and I could feel the cold cmoing through the window. Thus, the line describing the cold entering the room came to me.

2) I thought, after looking at some stuff on FF.net, "I want to write a drabble!"

Other than that...I can't honestly say how it ended up the way it did...^^; If it needs to be explained, ask, because I was admittedly vague here.

Although, I'm sure you can guess who the characters are, despite their extremely different portrayal.

I don't THINK this needs a mature warning....
© 2008 - 2024 HawkeyeRiza37
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hangmanheadphones's avatar
My first few chapters could be considered drabble, then.
And drivel.