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| My *favorite* scent for men & women. |
I've been on something of a creative-writing kick lately, and so I thought I'd share a piece I drafted in my mind last week during a particularly dull Chemistry class. I haven't done any writing with the intent of serving it up to the masses as ficition for a while, so here goes:
The buzzing of the fluorescent lights above sang the tales of a weekend I would have preferred to forget. Drums pounded in my head, and a symphony of nerves strung away at my heart. I looked like a mess, felt like a mess, even breathed like a mess. Trying my hardest to slowly draw in a a breath of the air around me, without taking in any of the sorrow or worry. Those things made me sick. Their bitter taste would lie in my throat for days, trickling down just a little each day, leaving me constantly on the verge of throwing up.
Today's hangover felt different. It felt necessary; my senses needed to be dulled if I was going to make it through today. Through what was about to happen.
It was the way the dull fluorescent light made it gleam. My heart stopped beating ages ago, but I felt fear slowly walk down my spine. I shifted in my seat, hoping that insignificant movement would fix things, maybe even change what I had just saw, but it didn't. She slowly pulled it out of her handbag. She was armed. This was her defense, how she was going to reel them in. What she didn't realize was that it was going to scare them off; once it hit them, they would run for the hills. BOOM. The first time felt unnatural faulty; she had forgotten what she'd practiced. BOOM. The second time, her hand took to it a little more, the trigger warming to her touch. BOOM.BOOM.BOOM. Her courage was rising, things began to feel familiar, even natural. BOOM. People took notice. BOOM. Her presence was finally felt. BOOM.
Eight spritzes of "Obsession" by Calvin Klein was a bit much, but she hadn't had time to change. She was still in clothes she wore Friday. We were hungover on a Monday morning.
S.
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