Clouds

This evening I looked up at the sky and saw the clouds. 

It’s been a long time since I had last spared a few minutes for the sky. 

The clouds were moving and I began to see shapes forming from the marshmallow structures. A procession of dinosaurs emerged. The T-Rex had captured my heart – his comical huge head and teeny tiny hands. Mr Rex you brought a smile to my face. 

The clouds were moving fast, away from me. Leaving me behind. The T-Rex had disappeared. Off on another adventure, I suppose. 

————

I’m glad that I had shared a few moments with the sky. 

Kale’s Cookie Jar

It was around noon when Kale realised there was something missing from his cookie jar. His cookie jar was in fact a real life replica of Pooh Bear’s honey pot; Grandmama had gifted it to him after she had gone to Disneyland and had forgotten to take him along. So there it was, Kale’s Pooh Bear honey pot, now cookie jar, in his arms, who had fallen victim to a heinous crime.

In his mind, Kale couldn’t comprehend who in their right mind would do such a thing. Kale replayed the possible scenario in his head: hushed footsteps; a head carefully tilting, checking the surroundings; a grubby hand reaches for the honey pot-cookie jar’s head; the other takes the goods from within; the head is replaced. Yes, a meticulously thought out plan was needed for such a task, Kale thought. But in the next moments Kale smiled to himself and announced, “What a grand plan, indeed!”

The minutes and hours seemed to disintegrate as he stood there, stock-still.

A thunderous thud sounded above his head. Strike back operation had commenced. And Kale seemed to finish an invisible conversation out loud, “Of course, the last one left is a bad cookie.”

Kale held onto his cookie jar, like a hand grenade, just as he did before. Five minutes had passed since he had found out about the great crime. Those five minutes had given him all he had wanted to know. 


Hi everyone!

I hope you can appreciate that this piece of prose isn’t in its final form yet – it is currently a first draft for my prose submission for later on. So there may be parts where you don’t fully understand what’s going on (especially towards the end). 

Just a quick update as well: I finally handed in my long Odyssey essay yesterday! I feel very relieved that now I don’t need to look at it anymore. I think I deserve a day of rest before proceeding with more work/reading. Also, it was my birthday on the 25th, so I’m 19 now. It feels strange to know that next year I’ll hit the big 20 and will have no choice but to be an adult.

Anyways – all the same, hope you enjoyed reading this post!

See you soon! x

Evening Rose

Your tears spell out the shape of rose petals, in the dusk. They dissolve into the crowd of other droplets inhabiting your pillow. Each one settles down quickly, as if they’ve found a home within the cotton patchwork. The drying stains of the droplets create intricate patterns in a muted language. Tears don’t need to speak much.

Your face is taut, silent, strong. But it is within the confinement of this room, you keep such composure. Because you know, outside the window, behind the door, hidden behind the walls, is the place where danger is imminent. So you hold onto yourself, the only thing you can hold and protect, as you are the protagonist of your story. You picture your perfect ending…

One day, you hope to be swallowed by the day’s beautiful death – the rays of tropical twilight touching, embracing, your soul with the taste of the sun. After this you will be unsure what follows, but if and when that day comes, you will surely not feel so secluded and alone.  

The streaks across your face, drying, fade away from the world. And you’re left with the emptiness that is only yourself.