For those of you who don’t know, I have been taking a writing workshop in New York City. I wanted a chance to work on different types of writing and get constructive feedback. Each session, we write based on a prompt, and then we talk about what we wrote as a group. While I am NOWHERE near perfect in writing fiction, it is fun to get creative sometimes and explore a new area of writing. So, without further adieu, here is my first “shortish” story!
She remembered life as it was before. She remembered spending hours in the sun. She remembered playing. She remembered laughing. She remembered being happy. Now, all that is gone. All she has is struggle. All she has is pain. All she has is a life full of gray.
Sitting alone on the cold bathroom floor she tries to remember what it was like to be happy and more importantly, what it took for her to get there. She tries to remember how she ended up in this state of confusion, exhaustion and sadness.
She remembered walking home from the bar a block away, tripping over a piece of garbage and breaking her new shoes. She remembered his face, but not his name, she remembered surrendering to his touches in the night without thinking twice about the hurt she would be inflicting on her boyfriend of seven years. All she wanted was a few seconds of bliss, a few moments of happiness, a single ray of sunshine.
But the sunshine never came. No matter how hard she tried, her world continued to be gray. So, the pattern would repeat again… and again… and again… she would wake up on the cold, hard bathroom floor with no one there to hold her hair back. Eventually the men left; every single one. They took all she had to give and left her feeling worse, when all she wanted was to feel better.
With a definitive struggle she pushed herself off the floor. She took a look in the mirror at her tousled, long, blonde hair and the smudged mascara around her bleak, brown eyes and then she projected her evening into the toilet.
“Not again,” her roommate Charlie exclaimed from the kitchen.
“Sorry,” Sarah groaned preparing for another round.
“I’ll pour your water, but you need to get up. It’s a Wednesday. We have work.”
Work. Right. Because that’s what matters, Sarah thinks to herself. But she has a rent to pay, she has loans to pay and she has bills to pay. So, being the adult that she is supposed to be, she pukes one last time, washes her face, and throws on the only outfit she owns that doesn’t reek of failure and she walks out the door, mumbling her goodbyes to Charlie on the way out.