Time for another Sunday Scribblings! Below is my submission for this week's prompt, Invisible. Again, it's a short piece of fiction. Hope you enjoy reading it. To see my previous submissions, go to My Sunday Scribblings...
She sat in the bedroom, writing her heart out onto the paper. We live in the same house, but you don't see me. Even when I speak, your eyes never really connect with mine anymore. Am I invisible? When did I disappear from your radar? I remember the early days of love. We couldn't look deep enough, or long enough into each others eyes. We were in perfect sync, even when we were physically apart. How does time change that? Is it something I did, or did I just change so much, over time, that you don't know me anymore? Do you even want to know me?
As the words poured out tears began to fall, smearing the ink until the words were unreadable. She quickly wiped her face. He popped his head into the doorway. "Whatcha doin?" "Oh just making some notes." she replied. "Ok. Well, I'm heading out for a while." "Have fun." and she meant it, even though he never really heard it, because he could no longer hear what he could not see.
copyright 01/16/11 ajj
Showing posts with label Invisible. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Invisible. Show all posts
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Sunday Scribblings - Pilgrimage
I feel invisible today. It's hard to describe. It's as if I crawled under the kitchen table and am peeking out from under the cloth. Everything is moving on around me, but I am at a standstill.
I'm not sad. I'm lost in a deep, reflective pool of thoughts and memories. It's a pilgrimage, a reviewing of dreams I had for myself. If I hold up a yardstick, how will they measure up?
Did I leave one by the side of the road somewhere? If I glance back, will it still be in sight... can I pick it up again, dust it off, and run with it? Will it mean as much to me as I imagined it would?
I feel a slight breeze moving the cotton cloth. I hear the windchimes just outside the door. It's a peaceful, funny place to be. I don't feel alone... just invisible... and safe.
Copyright January 2009 - ajj
Other Sunday Scribblings can be found here.
I'm not sad. I'm lost in a deep, reflective pool of thoughts and memories. It's a pilgrimage, a reviewing of dreams I had for myself. If I hold up a yardstick, how will they measure up?
Did I leave one by the side of the road somewhere? If I glance back, will it still be in sight... can I pick it up again, dust it off, and run with it? Will it mean as much to me as I imagined it would?
I feel a slight breeze moving the cotton cloth. I hear the windchimes just outside the door. It's a peaceful, funny place to be. I don't feel alone... just invisible... and safe.
Copyright January 2009 - ajj
Other Sunday Scribblings can be found here.
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