Freewrite Friday

Freewrite Friday: Dark vs. Light

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Welcome to Freewrite Friday! In an effort to promote quick-writes on a variety of topics, we’ll be posting our own work periodically with a prompt. Feel free to try your hand at a freewrite of your own in the comments!

Freewrite Friday prompt: When can the dark be good? When can the light be bad?

So I write. Dark ink spills onto the page, never quickly enough to fill it up. I must cover this paper with the blood of my pen to keep my own from spilling out. Blood and ink, body and bone, empty page and blank mind. There is a connection that I can’t explain or pause to think on because I must write and write. Must get it all out so I can see it in front of me to remind myself when I have forgotten this moment.

Ballpoint, brush tips, clicky pens, felt tips, fine points, fountain pens, rollerballs, none of it matters. It is a vehicle, a way to get the empty lined pages as full and dark as possible. This is a race against a white-garbed Muse who won’t slow her touch to a trickle of inspiration, instead pushing me hard with a gushing font of words. I must get them out now, or– oh.

Empty.

Like the gas tank of highly un-economical car, going from full of beautiful dark oil and gas to the needle resting on E a moment later. The white bellies of seagulls overhead taunt me- empty, empty, empty. They know I am spent. Dark birds watch from shadowy trees with black eyes and solemn expressions. They know.

 

Lit & Love,

Sarah Signature

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6 thoughts on “Freewrite Friday: Dark vs. Light

  1. Just the sounds of his snores. The screen flashes its message: “Are you still watching?” but I don’t touch the remote. The television fades to black and I am plunged into darkness. My brain starts its nightly ritual… the doubts creep in, followed by the usual insecurities, and capped with the crippling anxiety that my fretting over issues out of my control always causes. It’s a nightly routine and it’s been my routine ever since I can remember being old enough to have problems I can call my own.

    Then he rolls over. He flops one arm across the bed without regard for me, but it finds its way to my waist and he pulls me in close. I can just make out a small smile as it creeps across his face. Suddenly the waves of anxiety subside. The warmth from his embrace has a calming effect and I feel peace for the moment. In the darkness of our bedroom, in the arms of this man, I allow sleep to find me.

    Liked by 1 person

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