Sunday, December 14, 2008

Not following the prompt. Oh well. This is just a snippet of something. No idea what its about and maybe we'll find out later. Any ideas?

It snowed today. And while the streets are covered in ice all, I'm haunted by the sweet smell of her perfume. I've been drifting in and out of sleep, each waking bringing the mourning of her again. Its too cold outside for dreams and the scent of Rose is on the air.


OneirosBound said...

all was not actually supposed to be included there. typos hurray!

Barbara Lorraine said...

Woman I wan to be able to read more of your writing.

As a beginning, this makes me think of some sort of film-noir-type narration, one of those mystery-slash-romances you could play a nineteen forties soundtrack to. Perhaps a slight adjustment to accommodate the word-play in the last sentence: "... and the scent of Rose's is on the air," or "that scent of Rose's.." because hey, scent of roses, scent of Rose's? Maybe? No? Okay.

I certainly want to know who you are, speaker, and who Rose is. The snow and the cold ought to numb the speaker, ought to sedate all springtime thoughts of Rose, and yet she persists through the frost. Why? Tell us more.