Petrichor;Smell of dust after rain.
It was just like any other day, or should I say any other rainy day. The sky stained with somber grays and explosive porphyrous hues and the howling wind running about. The scene, to be completed, had big fat droplets of rain pouring down, soaking all of Manhattan. Lots of things have happened here in Manhattan. Great big complicated things, things where even I, myself, couldn't make heads or tails of. Things that I haven't quiet come to grips with, things where I may never come to grips with. Because if I don't ever come to grips with it or ever say it out loud then I can pretend that it never happened. But that's okay, I would like to think that there's is a lot of things that I don't know or just not recognize, not just of Manhattan, but of the whole world, the whole universe, the whole Galaxy!
So here I am, standing on top of a ledge on the Empire State Building, getting soaked to the bone, like some-some mad woman. Huh, that's me in a nutshell; a mad woman. But this time without my mad man. I shakily took a deep breath, letting the crisp scent of fresh rain water blended in with my soundless salty tears wash over me. I mustn't think of him, not now, not anymore. I'm better off without going completely berserk right now. Because that's what'll happen if I continue on torturing myself of thoughts of...HIM.
I gazed down at the wonderful busy city, thousands of dull colored umbrellas millin' about on this cold dreary day. Everyone having a purpose, everyone knowing where to go, everyone just living their lives. But not me, nope never me. I Closed my eyes balancing myself on the edge of the ledge and just for those seconds, those tiny precious seconds I imagined. Imagined that I was down ...
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...g ledge, as if I had never jumped and there was no glass biting at me feet tearing at my skin the window didn't even looked like it was broken through with a rusty spanner. And this time he was there embracing me. This time it wasn't raining anymore; the goldenrod sun was smiling down at the world, rather than hiding like before, with bright creamy colored clouds hanging lazily in the sky. I laughed softly at this paradoxical miracle; it worked, god damn it worked! With his velvety liquid voice he told me with a soft warm smile that was promising of tight hugs when the hard blue that is sad crashes over me, promising me of hot Summer days and nights, and frigid Winter days and Winter nights, and hard Spring and Autumn days and nights of unconditional love, relentless adoration, and unbreakable trust “Welcome back.” My eyes shined with joyful and disbelieving tears.
As I walked toward a bus full of strangers, using my sunglasses to shield the tears forming in my eyes, I couldn’t help but to be apprehensive of what was to become of the next twenty-three days of my life. As I trudged up the stairs of the bus leaving behind all that was known, I couldn’t help but wonder; What have I gotten myself into?
The cold chill was blazing on me and my shoe gently began to pull out a tear. I thought about Candy and the other guys. Hopefully, I made the right choice. The sun came down and I ended up in a deserted river. Slowly, I began to regain where I was, and I opened my eyes in disbelief.
“No thank you, sir,” Anne said, twisting out of his reach and hopping from the train. “There’s knack to holding it, if you don’t mind.” She glanced over the near empty platform. “It appears I’m to wait for my ride.” The thought wasn’t oppressive. Avonlea was a variable paradise. Gone were the wastelands of the outer provinces, replaced by lush grasses, strong and tall green trees, and a bright blue sky as far as the eye could see. Bees hummed and birds chirped amongst the treetops. Instead of recycled oxygen, here the air smelled of sunshine and warm apple pie. “Train’s early,” the stationmaster said. “Do you wish to go inside to the lady’s waiting room?” Hope lodged firmly in Anne’s heart. “I do believe I’ll wait outside. Right there on that bench.” She grinned. “So much more scope for the imagination, don’t you agree?” “I suppose…” the man muttered, but his doubt was lost on Anne, who’d already plunked down on the bench and was staring up into the heavens with unrestrained joy. She had done it. She’d left pain and terror behind and stepped into the light. Nothing would take this new world from her. No thing. And no one. A tremulous smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. Avonlea had a new protector. Lord save them
After my conversation with the old man, I didn’t feel I could continue walking those streets anymore. He had taken away in minutes the feeling of anticipation I had in the subway while it went over the Manhattan Bridge on its way to Brooklyn.
The arrival to Manhattan was like an entry to a whole new world: from the sea, its breezes, color, and landscapes, to the heart of the city beating louder than ever at the Whitehall Terminal. I could smell New York’s bagels in Battery Park with a mixture of the most relaxing scents: the coffee people were holding while walking down the streets, the old walls of Castle Clinton ...
The night in the city was going to be especially cold tonight. The sky had been overcast for almost the entire day, leading to a brief although torrential downpour in the mid-afternoon. The streets of the Bronx outside the third-story apartment window that Leonard Jefferson Bennings now looked out were saturated from the July rainstorm and shone with a glimmer he remembered seeing from his bedroom window in Massachusetts many years ago. He wondered if he would ever get to see his childhood home again, and, if he did, would the world of his youth still exist even there? Like the final beams of sunlight of the day, his hope was growing faint as he looked out on what had once been the metropolitan heart of his country.
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
That’s right, I realize. Still outside. Probably in the car, pinned under the hard rain. It was raining when we got here. Some firefly of a town at the crossing of two faded freeways in northern Pennsylvania where it snows a lot in the wintertime for the skiers, my dad told me in a watery voice while our minivan hummed down the off-ramp. Watercolor black, I thought while I looked out the window, except for the yellow, splotchy Super-8 sign and the white motel lobby. My two sisters and I brought the luggage down and we’re still waiting for mom and dad like dead puppets, and I’m still wishing for a light fixture.
I stopped walking and looked up at the faint stars. The seagulls were flying overhead. They were screeching and swooping at the water. I started to wish I were one of them, flying free without any restrictions or limits. I listened to their voice, the screech. Deep down in I could understand what they were saying. I can't explain it, but I was so in love with the moment I thought I saw things as they did. I was in company of animals that had no concept of time, and no worries, and I was contempt with that. I closed my eyes and the faint sun warmed my face, as if shining only for me. The warmth made ...
We all remember these grey gloomy days filled with a feeling of despair that saddens the heart from top to bottom. Even though, there may be joy in one’s heart, the atmosphere turns the soul cold and inert. Autumn is the nest of this particular type of days despite its hidden beauty. The sun seems foreign, and the nights are darker than usual enveloped by a thrill that generates chills to travel through the spine leaving you with a feeling of insecurity. Nevertheless, the thinnest of light will always shine through the deepest darkness; in fact, darkness amplifies the beauty and intensity of a sparkle. There I found myself trapped within the four walls of my house, all alone, surrounded by the viscosity of this type of day. I could hear some horrifying voices going through my mind led by unappealing suicidal thought. Boredom had me encaged, completely at its mercy. I needed to go far away, and escape from this morbid house which was wearing me down to the grave. Hope was purely what I was seeking in the middle of the city. Outside, the air was heavy. No beautifully rounded clouds, nor sunrays where available to be admired through the thick grey coat formed by the mist embedded in the streets. Though, I felt quite relieved to notice that I was not alone to feel that emptiness inside myself as I was trying to engage merchant who shown similar “symptoms” of my condition. The atmosphere definitely had a contagious effect spreading through the hearts of every pedestrian that day. Very quickly, what seemed to be comforting me at first, turned out to be deepening me in solitude. In the city park, walking ahead of me, I saw a little boy who had long hair attached with a black bandana.
I was surprised when I was in the cafe, and suddenly the weather changed from a sunny afternoon to a stormy dark afternoon. I had seen many rain showers, but this one seemed different. This seemed different, because I had a different view and perspective of the storm. A storm like this had never left an impact on me.
The clouds were dull and grey and the light pitter patter of the rain could just be heard above everyone’s voices. My head was still spinning, not knowing wher...
It was finally fall break. I was visiting my grandma for a few days. Well past dinnertime, I pulled up to the white stately home in northern rural Iowa. I parked my car, unloaded my bag and pillow, and crunched through the leaves to the front porch. The porch was just how I had seen it last; to the right, a small iron table and chairs, along with an old antique brass pole lamp, and on the left, a flowered glider that I have spent many a summer afternoon on, swaying back and forth, just thinking.
It was a dreadful afternoon, big droplets of rain fell directly on my face and clothes. I tasted the droplets that mixed with my tears, the tears I cried after the incident. The pain in my foot was excruciating. It caused me to make a big decision of whether I should visit you or not. I decided I would. I limped towards my bright, blue car where my bony, body collapsed onto the seat. I started the engine up but at the same time being cautious of my bleeding foot. I then drove to the destination where I was bound to meet you. I was bound to meet you after three years of counselling from my last appearance with you. I guess all I can remember is the scarring....
Suddenly, I snapped awake. It really was the day of my party, and it really was pouring down rain outside. I trudged out of my room and had breakfast, all the while staring gloomily at the storm raging outside.