WolfSol
Brain cashew smooth
Words: 391
Prompt: You're sitting in your favorite room of your house, when it beings to rain. The pitterpatter on the roof sparks a memory...
Just like our moments when it rained. Do you remember those days? Those days were my favorite. The rain always felt like it was leaving a pocket of time for you and I in its wake. It would always shut out the world in a fortissimo of raindrops. On those days, you would run to me so that I could protect you from the rain. You would curl up in my warmth, and we would revel in the sounds of pitter patter along my bones.
At least, I used to love those days.
The rain now is a cacophony of static. It traps me within these four walls, and blankets me in an eternal chill. Even now as it falls along my spine, the thick waterfalls of rain never able to wash away my pain, I find no happiness in it. There is no pocket of time, there is no warmth, and most importantly, there is no you.
Is it my fault?
I ask myself that every day, especially now as the rain taints my world in hues of gray. It feels as heavy as it did that night. A pressure that’s as suffocating as the silence that crawled alongside you.
Your eyes were a ship lost at sea, and the rope that you dragged along my skin was your saving grace.
I remember how you’d paused as you pulled the rope along your neck. At that moment, you searched for me, but you looked right through me even as I shook underneath the storm. Then you did the unthinkable, you jumped from my arms. You soared without wings, flying high from the banister, but then that saving grace became your anchor. It snapped taut, and you plummeted to the world below. All the while, my pleas fell underneath the curtain of rain.
Prompt: You're sitting in your favorite room of your house, when it beings to rain. The pitterpatter on the roof sparks a memory...
The Day the House Stood Still
I am as cold as winter and as empty as a starless sky. My insides are withered in dust, age etched within my walls. Since the day you left me, there has been a groan riding along my bones. It creaks along gnarled wood floors, echoes against broken windows, and trips along shattered picture frames. It reminds me of how lost I feel without you. You who made me feel complete, needed, worthwhile. You who gave me a name, a purpose. Something that I had taken for granted.Just like our moments when it rained. Do you remember those days? Those days were my favorite. The rain always felt like it was leaving a pocket of time for you and I in its wake. It would always shut out the world in a fortissimo of raindrops. On those days, you would run to me so that I could protect you from the rain. You would curl up in my warmth, and we would revel in the sounds of pitter patter along my bones.
At least, I used to love those days.
The rain now is a cacophony of static. It traps me within these four walls, and blankets me in an eternal chill. Even now as it falls along my spine, the thick waterfalls of rain never able to wash away my pain, I find no happiness in it. There is no pocket of time, there is no warmth, and most importantly, there is no you.
Is it my fault?
I ask myself that every day, especially now as the rain taints my world in hues of gray. It feels as heavy as it did that night. A pressure that’s as suffocating as the silence that crawled alongside you.
Your eyes were a ship lost at sea, and the rope that you dragged along my skin was your saving grace.
I remember how you’d paused as you pulled the rope along your neck. At that moment, you searched for me, but you looked right through me even as I shook underneath the storm. Then you did the unthinkable, you jumped from my arms. You soared without wings, flying high from the banister, but then that saving grace became your anchor. It snapped taut, and you plummeted to the world below. All the while, my pleas fell underneath the curtain of rain.
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