The destruction was out of this world.
The chaotic clouds of thought were all confined in one singular tiny space. My space. My brain.
An ordinary school day. Grey skirts, black shoes, blue blazers, striped ties - boring. The hard brick walls acted like prison bars, the heating was on too high again and the school bell screamed loudly for the second time - normal, annoying.
There were high winds clearly visible through the dirty glass window that cold February day. It whirled like a madman, ripping up everything in its way. Upon closer inspection of a fallen tree, the rough bark was cracked and splintered, the branches had broken as if they were never part of the dead ash tree's lost life. Even the steady foundations, which had rooted the giant to the frosty ground, had been mercilessly ripped away leaving the tree alone to rot.
It lay defeated on top of the headmaster's used-to-be-meticulous lawn.
The lessons that day were exhausting.
English, Games, History, Spanish - tiresome.
Through the dirty glass window there were dangerous dark clouds marching across the sky; they blotted out the sunlight and thundered like galloping war horses. All around was infinite dark. Every sound was endless ringing and screaming and loss of direction and aimless and negative and boring, normal, annoying, exhausting and . . . silent. At least sometimes.
In school, there was no real storm. Only a hurricane that had visited briefly and left a wreck. But in my head, the storm was tearing me apart. My own thoughts reflected in the colossal aftermath . . . an empty yard and an uprooted tree. Wind: the whirlwind trapped inside my head, clouds: consuming all the sunlight (my ever fading hope).
Control!
There was no control. I had no control. My body, my mind, my thoughts... the destruction
was out of this world.
~~~
I really love descriptive writing, even if it is hard sometimes to stay away from the more narrative writing style that would be used for a short story. This is a slightly edited version of what I originally wrote but it hopefully makes more sense now as the links to a mental break down/overload should be clearer 😄
-MJ x
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Short Stories
Historia CortaFictional short stories/creative writing. Read at your own risk! Contents so far... The Heart Broken Prince (100 words) Lost (descriptive writing) The Betrayal (short story) The Day the Storm Came (descriptive writing) A Place of Freedom, Calm and R...
