Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

April 21, 2019, 12:28:24 PM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti

Saturday-Homesick



Word of the Day
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Author Topic: Mouse  (Read 18 times)
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ChrisSoncrant
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« on: April 15, 2019, 04:31:01 PM »

The old house sits at the end of the street, forgotten by most, covered in thick overgrown trees and bushes. Inside the house the floor and abandoned furniture is layered with dust on all horizontal planes like layers of snow. The smell of the house is moldy and damp, rotting wood adds a river of pungent sweetness that will make the sweetest old lady gag on her tongue. Along the brown gray hardwood floor there are tiny little foot prints, a pathway worked through the dust like a forest trail. The little prints are discernible only at the edges. Towards the middle of the path the orange hardwood is clean as though swept. Little black footballs line the trail like fallen pine cones. Mouse turds hardened with age. Thousands of them. The sun glitters in through a window whose board has rotted away in the shape almost like a star. This beam of light sines upon a tiny crack in the wall like a search light. A small pink whiskered nose pokes its way out, a toe testing the frigid water. It bounces up and down and left and right with each sniff. Soon the nose emerges and the brown black fur becomes visible an then the small black dots of eyes. Head is fully out now. It knows the path well, but millennium of ancestry tells it to always be cautious, haste makes waste. The house creaks as it warms in the sun, the sound like knuckles cracking and with it the nose disappears swiftly back into the crack in the drywall which is yellowed from age. After several minutes of dust tumbling over one another like socks in a dryer the nose does its routine again. After several more minutes, the mouse darts out and scampers to its next lookout at the corner of the wall. the tiny pitter-patter of its paws amplified to almost audible by the cavernous emptiness of the forgotten house.

This may seem long, but I did stop exactly at 10 mins. I promise!

(I do my object writing by hand, and then type it out exactly as I wrote it, which is hard because as I reread my mind finds better ways of saying what I wrote, neater similes and metaphors and more concise sentences, but alas, I want to be faithful to the process. Also this is my first posting, but I've been doing this everyday for... wow, 2 months now (Official start date: 2-15-19) according to the notebook I keep these in.  I love it and don't see a reason to stop)
« Last Edit: April 15, 2019, 04:32:36 PM by ChrisSoncrant » Logged
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