She sits at the table in the attic and sifts through her memories. Perhaps she’ll find something worth remembering. It might be something happy, or sad, or even scary. She only wants something memorable. There could be something there that she’s missed in all her years.
She is young, not yet in her twenties. But, she feels a lot older at times. When the people around her act like spoiled infants in their cradles, screaming for someone else to come clean up their mess.
She feels a lot younger as well. When she speaks with people who have been through a lot more.
I think you’re wasting your time.
Many think that she’s a mistake, and that she makes her life an even bigger mistake. Define mistake, she wants to tell them and watch them fidget under the scrutiny of an apparently non-living thing.
What will it bring you? What’s in it for you?
I don’t know. But why do you care?
They never care more than a certain amount, and they think that will be enough where infinity times that is needed. The irony of it is that she understands best the value of a grain where there are none.
She tries nonetheless. She gives them a chance for as long as she can.
The only light she sits by filters through the clear panelling of the window. The slopes of the ceiling converge at the point directly above its middle. All she can make of the window is the outline. the joints in the skeleton of the pane are barely visible. And the light? A blinding white.
Oh, poor thing. Life is so unfair. The ordeals you go through…
Ordeals? What are those?
The ghost of a smile flits across her face. What she’s learned because of the things these people call ordeals, she feels they are more valuable than any lesson they can teach her for all the years they’ve lived.
Everyone loves and act, though, don’t they?
A bright memory bounds across her vision, and she grabs it. It is a curious thing. SHe’s never seen anything like it before, yet it feels more like home than anything else.
“What’ll you do with them?” he had asked, the only one who understood her.
She had smiled. “Let me find them first.”
The window drew her attention again. When she turned back, she knew what to do.
4 thoughts on “Window”
I trust you want to be an author. I read a couple of your post and followed you. I like your writing style: it is clear and concise. Though I have no idea about Anime or Manga, but I assure you that I’ll read your other writings and offer feedback whenever I can.
For one, I think you can use some more characters in your stories, some dialogue between them, so that things keep moving. The narrative of this one is somewhat one-dimensional, as the entire thing happens in the girl’s thoughts. Let’s come out of the musing/thoughtful mode and show some action, shall we? I think your writing will brighten up with that.
P.S: If the suggestion does not suit your writing style, please ignore it. 🙂
Glad you like it, Arpita! I’ll try and post something a bit more fast paced. I am writing a multipart story. I’d call it a novel but I feel that its a bit short on the word count department. Do you think I should post extracts here? Also, you could chack out the other blog I set up. The Closeted Non-native, which I introduced in one of my recent posts.
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Yes, a lot of people post novel/chapters on their blogs. However, if feedback is your primary concern, then you may consider doing it after you have formed a regular reader base. Else, you can continue sharing with those websites like fanfiction.net or Wattpad, which are exclusively for this purpose.
Good luck, and yes, I will surely check out your other blog. 🙂
Thanks! I post it on Young Writer’s Society.
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