Short writing exercise, using the song Next to me a prompt: WRITE!!!.
“Oh, our future was written with crayons and colouring books”… and dreams. Adulthood should have felt like falling through technicolor skies and a purple cotton haze. But, alas, I grew up and found my twenties and thirties to be nothing like the crayon coloured dreams we had when we were ten. I still think of you, sometimes the hollow space, between my breasts, echoes with the sounds of our childish laughter. Do you remember how we met? It was the third grade, Miss Armstrong put us to sit together, and you introduced yourself as a werewolf. We were seven and werewolves were as real as the bluest sky. Sometimes, I wonder. Read the rest of this entry »