Greetings fellow Steemians! Here is my eighth 5 minute* freewrite. The prompt is "the attic".
*Not 5 minute this time, 30 minute ;)
This piece is a continuation of yesterday's freewrite, and the third installment in an ongoing story. Let's see how long I can keep this up, using the prompts provided!
Part I: @bennettitalia/freewrite-129-fingernail
Part II: @bennettitalia/the-strangeling-part-ii-freewrite-130-wasps
Part III: @bennettitalia/the-strangeling-part-iii-freewrite-131-solitude
Part IV: @bennettitalia/the-strangeling-part-iv-freewrite-132-gardening
Freewriting is a daily practice for most poets and fiction writers, designed to loosen up and get things flowing, like stretching before exercise. Visual artists, especially those who draw or paint from life (figures, landscapes, still lives, etc) do something similar in "gesture drawings". After reading several of @poetrybyjeremy's freewrite posts, I got excited to try these again. Many thanks to @mariannewest for hosting this daily freewrite! @mariannewest/day-132-5-minute-freewrite-wednesday-prompt-gardening
https://pixabay.com/en/medium-psychic-female-fantasy-woman-goth-1726601/
The wasps fell back as I walked briskly to one of the undergrounds and down the steps, but I could still feel them behind me, keeping pace from a distance. My senses reached out to the world around me, embraced it, spread to encompass everything within the concrete walls of the station, scanning everything within reach. I had to be careful to raise the thresholds to the proper level, so that I wouldn't be distracted by every little object, every movement, the scrabble of a rat, the quivering antennae of a cockroach, air blasting through ventilation ducts. Even people - there were too many to keep track of all at once. The thresholds had to be raised above the level of "normal" human behavior, so that my modded senses only picked up unusual behavior, anything that might be a threat. Luckily, I had the implant to set thresholds for me. That was what it was there for. Or so they had told me when they put it in. And they hadn't been lying: it was true that I couldn't control my mods the way I needed to without it. But it also did... other things. Things they hadn't told me about.
I took the stairs two at a time at the other end, eager to see daylight again, eager to find out what I would be dealing with. I had been going over various possible scenarios and courses of action, but I knew I was far from prepared for any eventuality. It was likely that I'd have to wing it.
She was right where I thought she would be, sitting with her back to the giant, ancient oak tree, eyes closed, ignoring the perfectly serviceable bench just a few feet away.
Her eyes opened as I approached. They were strange eyes, like the wasps', only instead of being veiled by a subtle film, they were more transparent than the usual, like still water, or glass. If you looked closely enough, if you could get close enough to look, you would see that her pupils were striated with threads of light silvery grey, but otherwise clear. It gave one the impression of being able to see into the darkness inside of her head.
I stopped. We looked at each other for a minute. A tear slipped out of the corner of her left eye, lingered for a moment, then began a slow, hesitant descent along the curve of her cheek.
"I know who you are" she said. Her voice, always soft, nevertheless reached right through your flesh into your nerves, made you feel things. I wondered for the thousandth time what kind of effect it would have if she yelled.
It was difficult to keep my composure around her, even with the thresholds set all the way up.
Her eyes moved back and forth, scanning my features, trying to read me in the normal human way, since she couldn't read me in her own. "I'm not going back to the attic".
©2018 Bennett Italia
