Friday, 9 March 2018

Creative Writing Piece

Whilst setting myself up to dedicate all of tomorrow towards working on my novel, I stumbled across a short creative writing piece I wrote a couple of years ago. It's a 400+ short story told from the point of view of an everyday household item. I figured there was no point this short story sitting forgotten in a folder on my pc, so here it is for you all to enjoy!

Our Morning Ritual.

Darkness. Silence. The depressing life that comes from living inside a cupboard. At least I am not alone. Surrounded by my brethren, living the same cold, depressing life. Our cold exteriors forced up close to each other, yet we provide no warmth for one another. Inside we are all hollow. Empty. As cold on the inside, as we are on the outside. Here in the darkness, we wait. Wait for the morning to come. Wait for the moment the doors open and our world is temporarily filled with a glorious light. Every day sitting, waiting for my human to rescue me from this dark prison.
Life! Through the darkness, the sound of life begins to emerge. The running of water, shortly followed by the mechanical click of the electric kettle. It’s time! The doors open and our world is blinded by the warmth of the morning sun, shining in through the kitchen window. I wait for my human to reach for me and initiate his morning ritual.
My time has come! The warmth of his hand reaches around my body and holds me tightly. Lifted from my podium, I silently wish my brethren a fond farewell, knowing I shall be with them again soon. The world shines brightly, but it isn’t long before the familiar shadow of my human, is cast over me. The ritual begins. I am filled with things, both bitter and sweet and blended by the heat of the pre-boiled water. Swirled around, the contents of my insides, tickle my quickly heating exterior.
For the next thirty minutes, my time is here. Lifted and lowered, the warm, aromatic contents within me, are slowly drained. In no time at all, the contents have been sucked dry from me. My body immediately starts to cool once again.
Lifted from his desk for the last time today, my human begins carrying me back towards the kitchen. He staggers! Loses his grip. I slip. Slip, clean out of his hand and start plummeting towards the ground. The world blurs around me and in an instant, every coffee morning is flashed before me. I hit the ground. Hard. My body shatters into several, little pieces. I am broken. My soul purpose, to carry life to my human each morning, can no longer be fulfilled.
He sweeps me up, off his cold kitchen floor. He holds the pieces of me for the very last time. Our morning relationship, is at its end. Like the product of a one night stand, I am cast aside. Thrown into the rubbish. Darkness now. A new darkness. All alone, my brethren gone, this darkness is mine and mine alone. Goodbye, dear human. Goodbye.

Until next time,
Alli xo


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