With this post ill try do some creative writing after Paul Jones suggesting it. I have not done this since high school and its something I really wasn't good at.
Thursday Afternoon 5:37pm
Thursday's are usually a difficult day, the late shifts the night before take it out of me. My job is stacking shelves in the local Tesco's, it's a job I hate but I don't see the point in finding a new one.
They say, 'the grass isn't always greener on the other side' and this is what I think when it come to my job. Having to build new relationship's, learn a new role, suck up to managers that wont give you the time of day. What's the point.
As I was on my way home from work last night, I have to walk around 2 miles and half of that is through the country roads, I cant say that this is a benefit of living in a rural area because sometimes its terrifying. Last night at around 1:30am I was passing fields and something caught my eye.
As I looked over the moonlit fields which had a soft mist hanging above them, there was a unnatural movement amongst it. The mist parted like a ship breaking through water, and the grass crumbled beneath. I drew my focus to what resembled a white figure. As I started to notice more features, legs, arms, shoulders, a new wave of thick fog flooded in and blocked my view completely.
I needed to get home, I was clearly hallucinating as I was very tired. I sped up my pace and hurried home.
As I woke up the next day, my dreams were fleeting fast. Dreams of deep forests, giant monoliths and morphing mirrors into another realm were escaping my mind and I assumed last night down to another one of my dreams.
However as I looked out of my bedroom window I could see mist still covered the dips in the mountains and lingered around the base of the trees. As much I tried to recall my other dreams I couldn't, but the form in the mist was at the front of my mind and I could not think of anything else.
The rest of the day was relatively normal, shower, dinner, catching up on tv shows. I needed to drop by the local shop and drop a package off, another 4 mile round walk to the local village, at leased the weather is sunny, sunny but with a slight chill to the air.
On the way back from my venture, I took a small detour along the fields, the fields that I walk past on my way to work.
I would usually walk this way from work but It's too damn dark and using my phone for the light would drain the battery too much and I cant be left with my thoughts after a bad shift. I'm not ready to spend time with myself.
Although taking this track is a shortcut, you wouldn't think it, its like time moves slowly passing through these fields. The way the overgrown grass moves is almost like seaweed, turning with the tides, elegantly drifting. The poppies flowing back and to bring the scene back to land and the smell of damp grass in the air from last nights mist. As I looked around I focused to the distance and see something abnormal interrupt the swaying grass. I then find myself, flat on my face, looking through the blades of grass upwards and the smell of dirt embedded in my nostrils. As I glanced up through the towering blades of grass and slowly raise my head, a white form moves slowly towards me.
Swaying like a drunk leaving the pub, the fabric flowing with it, curling and creasing with every movement. I was taken back by the sight, was this a film project? Am I crashing someone's art project?
I continued to watch and the form gradually started to fade. slowly dissipating and the tendrils of grass and poppies emanating into the natural world.
Then just as nothing had happened, it vanished. The form vanished into nothing, like it never happened.
As I arose from my hands and knees I was overcome with a sense of emptiness but familiarity. For years I have wandered through and past this place and never once felt how I did then. It almost felt like I was experiencing something that never was, but I wished for it so much, just for it to be taken away from me so suddenly.
A promise never fulfilled.
A future I feel nostalgia for.
Just a memory that will long be forgotten in time.
That's my take on creative writing, to give the only context of one of my pieces. Even thats not the thought process behind this piece.
Its all down to personal perception and who am I to take that away from someone.
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