Too much noise. Too much light. Too much.
My eyes were shut against the glare of the strip lighting above, hood pulled up to block out some of my periphery but it still wasn’t quite enough. There was just too much of everything.
Hotdogs and popcorn and the stale sweat of a thousand strangers hung in the air. Voices twisting and turning, too loud, bouncing around inside my aching skull. Even with the light somewhat blocked by my hooded head-to-the floor posture it was still too much.
The matches were held every month, with barely enough time to train and recover from the previous. But to be the best of the best you had to be at every match. Taking part was optimal but observing and appraising was sometimes the best some could do. That was how it was for the first 5 matches for Alex. Training every day but without taking part in any competitions until the time was really right. Observing, passing judgement, taking pointers and noting weaknesses. That was how to get to the top in Alex’s mind.
A note: Since I missed last Friday, here's a special extra long story I wrote. The prompt is still from the jar but this took much longer than 10 minutes to write.
If she was crying, everything would be blurry. But she isn’t crying and she can see quite clearly that everything is falling apart in front of her. She can see in perfect technicolour high-definition crystal clear vision that this is when the world ends.
A note: This is another one that was written some time ago and I always hesitated in posting. I'm proud of it, it just feels scary to be putting into words what goes on in my mind sometimes.
Taking anti-depressants feels a lot like giving up. Like your brain is no longer under your control. It’s nothing to be ashamed of but it feels like it should be. Everyone else can cope just fine without pills and visits to the doctor so why can’t you?
A note : Sorry for not posting anything Friday, I went to see Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them straight after work and was too exhausted when I got home.
Anyway, here's a kind of weird thing I wrote about stars.
Stars. Giant balls of gas floating millions and billions of miles away in space. Yet they seem so close. Almost within reach on a clear night.
They make patterns in the sky, nonsensical yet clear at the same time. We have placed them in constellations, trying to make sense of these majestic lights in the sky. We’ve given them shapes and named them. Given them meaning where there is none.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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