Writing Prompt

Katya’s dreams were as colourful as a rainbow; her reality, as black as midnight. The colour was a tenuous thing. In the moment, the dreamer was neither fully conscious or unconscious. It was like the smell you couldn’t place, the sound of something close; just not close enough so that you could really tell what it was. Was it happening, was it not?

Sound, temperature and clear, consciou...

She had always been afraid of the dark. Before the world turned black, she slept with a light on every night. While in bed she would try not to look in any of the dark corners of her room in order to avoid scary looking shadows.

After a year, you would think that she would have gotten used to the dark by now. She had not. Maneuvering through the dark felt like playing a constant game of solitary...

I see nothing am I blind to the light or the truth ?I try to make out the sounds but I might as well be numb .the world around feels consistent as im just standing here stuck in the a dark emotionless place where thee is no escape I hear distant voices calling my name but I can find the strength to speak .the words are crumbled and fading away....

Waking up in constant darkness always sparked unease in me. I wanted to see. I wanted to see color. I wanted to see faces. I wanted to see myself.

The soreness in my body awakes as I blindly reach for my alarm clock. The alarm’s screeching welcomes the beginning of a migraine. Slamming my hand down on the clock’s button, I welcome silence.

Removing myself from the bed, I shift slightly. My feet ...

My snout is my saving grace. Without it, I would have no idea when dinner was ready, or when it was time for me to wake. Not that I want to do either of those things nowadays. I want to sleep, and rest, and pass away in peace. Yet, despite the darkness, I’m still alive. Not sure how or where, but I am, and those around me touch my fur as I sleep and when I wake, and they seem to love me still. I l...

I guess one of the worst things about living in darkness is missing what everyone else sees. When I was younger I believed I had to keep up, but I never could. Blindness in a seeing world is issolating. When I was around people I learned that they didn’t know what I went through so how could they consider it? It wasn’t until I began spending time by myself that I noticed the world was for me to ex...

No matter you feel and touch, tough or smooth, just something around you with no harm. Move forward, is it more beautiful without seeing it, just feel it!...

Alone in this flood…

Drowning in the pain-

Blinded by my blood.

I reached out for you.

“You don’t understand.”

Those three words...

Like the clouds over the sun-

Suddenly the argument was done.

“If you don’t understand...

What’s the point?”

Go ahead!

Add some more-

Twist the blade.

Where the hell are you?

Did you lose yourself too?

Can you think of someone besides you?

“I don’t care anymore....

Six minutes in, I listen to the chitchat as my fingers move unwatched. I make notes I’ll never read. I make appropriate sounds. My mind is strips of saris washed, torn, and twisted. Magenta, turquoise, fuchsia, marigold, and an inky black, the yarn explodes in random clashing colors. Conversations weave in and out and all around me. My lids are heavy. My stomach grumbles discontented. Up and over...

My bedroom is carpet, and the hallway is wood. That’s the big distinction to my bare feet. We don’t close doors here; what’s the point? You can’t see what’s on the other side regardless, and a closed door is just an unexpected wall. And so the soles of my feet tell me what room I’m in, my toes questing for the edge of the stairs as I head by memory for the ground floor, counting steps so I don’t m...