This kind of makes me question some of the people's imaginations in our class haha
She stood at the edge of a precipice, between one moment and the next. A choice had to be made, dancing on a knife's tip. The knife, of course, being a fifty-two centimeter spanish folded steel that was broken, twisted, melted, re-forged, and then broken again. Unable to be used for its purpose to bring on the darkness. She cuts it into the juicy steak and takes a bite, "I don't even like steak," she mutters. The steak, it seems, didn't much care for her, either; it clung onto the sides of her throat like a vengeful tentacle. She started to loss oxygen, as breathing was nearly impossible. She wanted to save herself but no one around her wanted to help. No one loves her. Suddenly, it goes dark and she awakens to a sound of a car and her hands were restrained. It was only a dream, a dream she would rather be living.
Edited:
She stood at the edge of a precipice, between one moment and the next. A choice had to be made, she was dancing on a knife's tip. The knife in her hand seemed to symbolize her situation, broken and dull. It was barely able to do its job, a useless heap of metal that was worthless to the world just like her. She cuts it into the juicy steak in front of her and takes a bite, "I don't even like steak," she mutters. The steak, it seems, didn't much care for her, either; it seemed to expand in her throat, blocking the path she was trying to hopelessly to force air through. Seconds pass and she lost even more oxygen than before, falling to the ground to try and reach for a phone. She wanted to save herself but no one was around her big empty house to help. No one loved her enough to stay when she needed them most. Unable to move she coughed once. Twice. Three times. And then, the lonely woman in the big beautiful house at the end of the street was no more.
I think this is a little better, but I didn't want to change the whole story I wanted it to stay at least kind of true to the original.
No comments:
Post a Comment