I've been working a lot on my writing for my Fiction class. So my blog entries have been a bit fewer and further between. I have found fiction to be a challenge for me since most of my writing thus far is pulled from personal experience and re-telling a memory. In this writing class I have had to push myself to think of other characters, other settings, other circumstances. It's been a challenge, but one that I have been enjoying.
Below is my homework assignment on "description". Surprisingly, I got great feedback from my teacher on this. So thought I'd share something I was working on outside of blogging...
My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest. Its rhythm becomes the backdrop of my steps, also pounding heavily on the long stretch of pavement before me. The flood of stars hanging above me like tiny Christmas lights offer the only light for miles. The desert glows in a magical way, hiding the undercurrents of fear that may exist.
The grey v-neck American Apparel shirt that I almost always wear on my visits here is completely soaked through with the sweat from my body - half induced from emotion and half a result of the heat. The temperature rarely cools, even after the sun has set. The experience is similar to that of the dry saunas at my spa back home. Except there I take deep cleansing breaths and then leave when the heat becomes unbearable. Here, there is no leaving. The hot air swirls through your nostrils and occupies your lungs. The heat from the pavement rises up and stings the face, like a slap. It wouldn’t be the first of the night.
The silence is almost deafening and allows the pounding from my heart and the soles of my feet to echo and bounce around trying to find space in my head. Once in a while there is a rustle from the bushes off to the side. They sway and shake, depending on the size of the animal scurrying underneath. And their tiny paws or slithery bodies can be heard over every pebble and every grain of sand. Usually, that would scare me but tonight I know that I am running from something else, something bigger.
The street goes on for miles ahead of me, one straight line like an arrow shooting ahead, forging me onward and making me well aware of how far I need to go. As I walk the events of the evening flash back like snapshots from a Polaroid camera.
The fight.
His eyes squinting. My body shaking. Our mouths quivering.
His hand raising up high until it’s erect like a flagpole. My eyes following it as it slowly makes its way above my head.
A series of hits.
Loud, uncontrollable sobbing. The sound of the dog barking covers up the heaving.
A stream of drool gliding out of the sides of my mouth and making a pool at my feet.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. Just sleep. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow we will talk about it.” Lies.
Slipping out of bed. So quietly that the sound of silk sheets beneath my body is inaudible. Padding on my feet hitting the cold marble floor like cotton balls. Gray v-neck shirt barely moving as my body slides the rest of the way out of the bed.
I shake my head in an attempt to forget. The warmth of the air actually comforts me and feels like an embrace, as if trying to convince me that I did the right thing.
And then I hear it. Footsteps. My heart pounds louder and my feet pick up pace. “This is it,” I tell myself, “Just hold your breath and run.”
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