Combo streaks method: Writing Was My Playground (Part IV)

combo streaks method creativity writing
Challenges

Holy cow. And then I wrote even more!? Yep, it turns out. It's been a long time since I wrote every day, but I still wrote.

14 February. A story about a boy and a girl in the mountains.

The mountains that rose up were insanely beautiful. They stood and watched them, frozen in one pose, their hands braced against the wooden road fence, completely oblivious to the little red car parked behind them. Or the world at large.

"Mountain grandeur. Oh, the majesty of the mountains!" the boy suddenly remembered someone else's words and solemnly recited them to the girl.

She looked at him and smiled. She had heard these words before and decided that it was an apt description of the mountains.

They stood like that for a good five, ten, fifteen minutes. Only then did the guy finally breathe a sigh of relief and push himself away from the wooden barrier separating him and the abyss of probably several hundred metres.

Soon after, the couple got back in the red car and drove away. The road was dazzlingly empty as before.

 

20 February. Thoughts on your imagination and the rain that doesn't exist.

Thousands of tiny raindrops outside the window. Falling on trees, a neighbour's dog huddled by the front door and the tin roof of a bus stop.

Falling, dripping, running and gathering into bigger and bigger puddles. Puddles I would have jumped into as a child.

Except it's not raining outside. Just like it's not raining inside this, my favourite café.

It's just my imagination playing the games it loves to play. She loves it.

More than eight... Maybe ten years ago, I wasn't accepted to art school. Because my painting was too flat, and I was told I didn't have the right imagination.

And I still don't understand what that means.

Didn't I have imagination then... But do I now? Suddenly?

Here, I look in front of me and I see. You.

You must have noticed the movement of my head out of the corner of your eye, so you lift your eyes from the Shakespeare play you are reading and look at me. You smile. As you always have.

I can't help but smile.

And here it is. I'm sitting in front of my computer right now. I look off into the distance of an empty café. And I'm smiling at who knows what, like a madman.

My imagination sometimes gets me down. It kills. Little by little, but surely. Because every time I look, I realise you're not there.

March 1: Thinking about not being able to write.

Zero inspiration.

Zero.

Where have my ideas gone? My inspiration? My whole self?

I'm just like this - I'm alternating my thoughts between the girl I've met, the girl I won't meet again and I don't know, I don't know who else.

Nothing in my mind.

Nothing bloody useful. "You have to work for Debesylai" they say. "I want to eat and eat a lot" say others. "Tomorrow I have to go for an internship and a bachelor thesis (brr!) to find out" say a third.

However, this is of little benefit.

I can't write.

And if it works, it's only as much as I've written now.

A little.

March 2. When I saw her, my life turned upside down.

When I met her, everything in my life turned upside down. It rose from the floor, bounced off the ceiling, swelled up and went around in a powerful whirlpool.

Literally.

Because when I met her... My room split off from the trunk of the skyscraper and plunged down into the endless sea of gas and water below.

Maybe that's why I had to end my conversation with her at that moment.

5 March A Chinese lantern flew over our heads.

Another Chinese lantern flew over our heads. This time it was green.

With her hair tickling my neck, I was probably happier than eating Neapolitan pizza at the local pizzeria in town this morning. Which is saying something, because I have always adored pizza more than anything else in my life.

When the green light disappeared, it was immediately replaced by two others: a purple and a pink one.

- Who allows them? - I tried to ask in my broken Italian.

The girl turned her head slightly towards me, as if trying to understand where the sounds were coming from that were coming from my throat. I laughed uncontrollably. Her hair tickled my neck again.

- I have no idea," she replied in her husky and slightly scratchy voice. But she immediately added:

- Although maybe I'm guessing. But I'll tell you later, OK?

I was silent for a moment, thinking what to say.

- OK," I replied, nodding my head. My hair moved back and forth across my neck twice.

And I felt that I was already falling in love with this girl I had met so recently.

And I didn't understand why at all.

 

Hmm,
Daniel

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