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Dark S3cret
Dark S3cret

Number of posts : 458
Age : 26
Registration date : 2009-01-17

PostSubject: Fog   Mon Nov 23, 2009 11:42 pm

The door swings slowly shut, its hinges well-oiled. You insert the key into the hole, gripping it tightly in your cold hands. The chain jingles as you twist it; the click sounds unnaturally loud and echoes in your ears.

You turn and squint through burning tired eyes, fervently hoping to see the sun. No such luck as it’s smothered by an impenetrable blanket of clouds. ‘Wonderful,’ you think, feeling the despondent atmosphere condense even more with this realization; it’s almost as if it understood, like it wanted to make you feel miserable.

Stepping down from the porch, you’re instantly engulfed by thick, swirling mists. Despite the fact that the visibility is terrible, you begin to walk down your driveway; hugging yourself tightly to stop shivering. It is rather chilly, and you begin to regret that you decided not to wear anything else but your coat.

Your breath billows from your mouth and nose; the dancing tendrils futilely try to reach towards the opaque, gray sky. They only manage a couple of meters before dissipating into the damp air.

It’s such a miserable morning.

Your feet slap the wet ground rhythmically, giving a beat to your thoughts. Your toes are already soaked and it’s impossible to avoid the puddles that litter the road, so you don’t even try. As you muse about the gloomy weather and the looming deadlines tomorrow, you sift absentmindedly through your well organized mind out of sheer habit… you come upon an unidentified aspect of your life at this moment. You consider the feeling for second, and then conclude that it’s ecstasy.

Having solved that, it doesn’t take long at all for you to pinpoint the source of this unrealistic and unbridled joy.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation as you continue to trudge along; you come to the open roads and stop abruptly, noting how empty and desolate the landscape looks – which isn’t saying much seeing as how you can’t even see the sharp, blinding headlights of the few, lonesome, stray cars until they almost hit you. They inch by cautiously; barely able to cut swathes through the hazy veil of gray. Despite the sleepy pace of the vehicles, the drivers are more awake and alert than usual. Their faces are pressed against the windows as they lean so far into the dashboard it seems like they’ve been cut in half. When you’re close enough to see their eyes past the murky windowpanes, you notice with amusement how they flicker unsteadily; worry shimmers in their depths.

You sympathize with them and move on, your mind wandering as you are. Perhaps the weather is some kind of indication, some kind of an omen… a warning? …But about what?

‘Life imitating art.’

The voice that issued from your mouth sounds alien. There’s a rasping quality to it, making it lower, harsher than it normally is. You tell yourself it’s probably because of how much you strained it last night.

A rueful smile passes your lips as you move forward and come to lean against the railing of the bridge. Even though you can’t see it, you can hear the violent waters churning below. The rolling waves crash against the pillars in time as the wind crescendos to an ear-splitting howl before petering back to a reedy whine, creating a deafening symphony that seems to drown out the entire world.

Your smile fades a bit, as memories flood your mind in a blur; some of it seems so phantasmagorical... Overjoyed though you were that they returned, you cannot help but wonder if your doubts were true. They came back, they said everything you wanted to hear, they apologized, you tell yourself, what more do you want?

The nagging insecurities derail any train of thought that forms in mind, dragging you back into their realm ruthlessly with their long fingered hands, deaf to your protests.

Are you asking for too much? Are you simply being over-protective, over-possessive? It’s not jealousy you feel, but you are threatened. All you need is reassurance… something… tangible. Something to back up those gilded words and promises…

You shake your head, feeling the turmoil inside of you mount to a point where it rivals and surpasses that of the raging water below.

They’re back, you tell yourself angrily. Be happy about it.

But it’s too late. The uncertainty has tainted whatever elation you might’ve held. Even the things you were sure of seem to be too far to see… to reach…

Everything seemed so hazy… unreal.

You lift your hand almost unconsciously, stretching your fingertips out in the direction of the sun you can not see. You know it’s there though, hidden somewhere in the depths of doubt. You strain yourself, trying to reach a bit further… and your fingers curl around nothing but air. They clench into a fist as you draw it back, staring into the endless expanse of gray; desperately wanting to pull the curtain of clouds aside and clear away the fog with your hand… to let some light shine through…

Again, a prompt done two years ago.
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