Mar 22, 2024 22:12:09
writing thread (finch's version) (from the vault)
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DAILIES 22-31
daily 22 (it's been a while oops) (258/250)
adrienne begrudgingly stared out at the scene before her. the beach, the oceanside that she had once loved so much had the life taken out of it. with the decay of her emotional state came the decay of the environment. the summer was no longer bright.
she looked at the darkening sky, rather ironic for the occasion. she watched the clouds sulk, ever solemn. she always found it particularly strange that clouds were so hated. with clouds, the sun was shrouded. with clouds came rain. but the clouds provide shade and the clouds provide life. perhaps, they too, were sad, but was that a reason to resent them? could you hate a spirit for the aspects it cannot control? it was never their choice to suffer, and yet their suffering is prolonged by all who despise them.
she stepped on the sand, wincing. even as the sun was covered, its presence lingered, keeping the sand warm. the sand, in turn, burned with anger, burned with passion. each grain was bitter, lashing out in retaliation, and adrienne swore she could feel each individual shard stab the soles of her feet. but why was the sand angry? what wrong had been done to the sand? perhaps it was tired of being stepped on. perhaps it was tired of being under the sun's control. perhaps it was tired of the waves constantly washing over it, drowning it in its distaste. or perhaps it was just that, angry with the world.
there was a lot to be angry with in the world.
daily 22 (it's been a while oops) (258/250)
adrienne begrudgingly stared out at the scene before her. the beach, the oceanside that she had once loved so much had the life taken out of it. with the decay of her emotional state came the decay of the environment. the summer was no longer bright.
she looked at the darkening sky, rather ironic for the occasion. she watched the clouds sulk, ever solemn. she always found it particularly strange that clouds were so hated. with clouds, the sun was shrouded. with clouds came rain. but the clouds provide shade and the clouds provide life. perhaps, they too, were sad, but was that a reason to resent them? could you hate a spirit for the aspects it cannot control? it was never their choice to suffer, and yet their suffering is prolonged by all who despise them.
she stepped on the sand, wincing. even as the sun was covered, its presence lingered, keeping the sand warm. the sand, in turn, burned with anger, burned with passion. each grain was bitter, lashing out in retaliation, and adrienne swore she could feel each individual shard stab the soles of her feet. but why was the sand angry? what wrong had been done to the sand? perhaps it was tired of being stepped on. perhaps it was tired of being under the sun's control. perhaps it was tired of the waves constantly washing over it, drowning it in its distaste. or perhaps it was just that, angry with the world.
there was a lot to be angry with in the world.