>>emotion, archipelago, upright, sigh, master
but every man is an island, she sighed, her hair falling crazily about her shoulders like tangled yarn. the ceiling fan whirred quietly above us, moving the air about. and in our chests, our hearts beat thu-thump, thu-thump. behind the wall, a faint noise, somebody yelling. and nothing else moved.
no man is an island, is how the quote goes, i corrected. she looked at me like a tiger might look at its prey. alert, upright, a challenge in her eyes. she started to speak - i have no master - but i interrupted her. rolling up my sleeves - she saw the ink - dozens of names, each one penned with pain. why do you keep those? she asked me. wouldn't you rather forget...
each man is an island, but what shapes my shores? I tugged my sleeves back down, turned away and thought about the waves that coursed through our archipelago like blood, like the tattoo artist's ink. and in that moment, I think she understood, that something connected us that she could not make go away.
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Comments
Left By: [email protected]
This is very interesting, I liked it very much. You create an atmosphere in such a short space of time that captures the reader.
David
Left By: calree
very very interesting. It reads like prose but also like poetry. The words and structure you choose seem too be really deliberate and it lends a great deal to the writing overall.