The
undetectable scent of the burnt out light bulb lingers not in scent but in
consequence in the small cramped bedroom on the cold and blizzardy night in New
York City. Frustration and annoyance bounce off the walls along with the echo’s
of an angry man passive aggressively shutting off the apartments lights to
force his daughters to go to bed. Apparently 2:01 am is not a time for
productivity but sleep. Of course, unable to really spread out to other spaces
the spongy full bed is no longer associated with sleep. Half of it occupied by
a tall snoring woman, her feet against the headboard and hear on the footboard.
Saying much about her personality. The other fourth of the bed covered by a trench
coat that allows the wearer to emulate the personality of a certain Sherlock
Holmes, of course with some genderbendering, it adds flavor. And lastly, the
final fourth holds a red cotton blanket much to small for the user, the other
half of the sibling duo as she types away her prompt for the day.
The
window is barely cracked, just enough to counterbalance the hot steam for the
radiator beneath it. The youngest of the daughters likes to live on the edge,
many winters ago on a blizzard much stronger than this the window was left
opened. It was an interesting experience battling the cold and she wouldn’t
mind reliving it again. Maybe it would quicken someone’s apartment hunt. Not
that she wants her to leave but honestly she might be a small hoarder of things
and doesn’t want to sacrifice the material emotions that surround her for
another, even if they can’t follow her after death.
On the
floor, the chaos of the mother tornado that evaded her room when she was out
running errands. Dolls, much too childish for the current inhabitants still
linger in random places next to burnt up cigarettes and hookah pens, hiding
condoms and gum wrappers. Items that shouldn’t be mixed together but its like
time has gotten confused and everyone is living and coexisting at the same
time. Time lines can be confusing.
Christmas
flowers and dried up leaves try to bring festivity though they are unwater and Christmas
has long passed. Books are stacked next to unused school supplies most hold the
promise of being read, but that is yet to happen. Ha.
Regardless
of the state of the room, it is certain that it holds all the wishes of many
young girls of freedom and liberty and trying to find the keys to free her. So
much can be inferred yet nothing can be completely told by the items in room.
Unless of course you read the diaries. They would probably make sure to burn
those before death anyway.
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Word Count: 464
Even though the word count goal was suppose to be 500 words, I think I did pretty well for my first prompt completion.
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