Siertes
Well-known member
For years, whenever I'm feeling down or am dwelling on any particular emotion too much, I like to take it and put it into the form of a little piece of writing. Sometimes they're short poems or short stories generally focused on a lonely individual and his/her thoughts. I wanted to share one of my favorite writings with you all. Forgive the length, it's one of my longest and I'm sure not many will want to suffer through it all haha. It centers around my "go to" inspiration of a dreary cityscape. No real title so I just call it:
Brokedown City
As I looked down upon the cityscape at the array of lights; whites, reds, greens, those off color orange and yellowish lights we all know too well, I had come to realize that these are the only stars I will ever know. My night sky is a myriad of refractions, a conglomerate of colors exhausted from their travels through the thick dust and smoke.
I inspected the battered and broken streets below for any semblance of life, but all I saw were remnants. Dilapidated cars lined the sidewalks, used well beyond both wear and tear but forced to cling to whatever existence serves their drivers. Moths crowded the street lamps. I laughed at how they seemed to be fighting over the right to die first and how fitting that seemed for a place such as this. “Be patient,” I whispered to the wind as I watched their shadows dance about the sides of buildings.
The lack of people failed to surprise. Most were enjoying the drinks and activities of the night behind poorly lit doors and an excess of incomprehensible noises. How this was an appealing prospect for the unseen masses below escaped me, but we all have a right to choose our own worlds. I just wished they would leave the view in mine a little nicer.
I decided to turn my sights higher. My eyes flowed as though they were navigating a maze of windows on the adjacent building. Upwards they traced a path, seeking an exit from the degradation below into something new. Suddenly they paused. An open window, very uncommon and very intriguing.
For an uncertain amount of time I stared at it. Translucent curtains wafted in the winds, convincing me their only purpose was to hypnotize the curious. There was light beyond but it was faint and flickering, either candlelight or poor electrical work. My mind sided with the former, desiring an alternative from the usual explanations.
As if in response to my mental choice, the light completely faded. The curtains had been relegated to fluttering in obscurity and I had little reason to remain focused on that spot. This was my thought until something strange occurred. Pushing out of the darkness and past the window sill was a pale foot, followed by a pale hand, head, and plainly dressed body. Onto the fire escape this figure emerged and while my vision failed to make out all the details, it was clearly a woman, frail and mysterious.
Grasping the rails for support, she peered over the edge of her elevated platform to the ground below. Was this person similar to me? I wanted to believe that she looked down upon this world and pondered it, thought and rethought, judged and misjudged. “Are you and I the same?” I wanted to yell across the divide, but the words remained in my mind.
I gazed at her who gazed below, and noticed that she seemed to be shaking. It was a fairly warm night so I doubted she was cold. It didn't take me long to realize that she was crying. While I could not hear her sobs or see her tears, her hands eventually met her eyes in a futile effort to thwart more tears.
What could I do but wonder what caused these tears to fall, this rain on a cloudless night except those in her mind?
For as long as she remained there, I watched her weep. This flow of emotions from her, while sad, was something I desired more of in my world. It was honest, powerful, and personal. I dared not to look away for fear that this would be the last that I would ever see of such a thing.
And so I sat there and felt.
Brokedown City
As I looked down upon the cityscape at the array of lights; whites, reds, greens, those off color orange and yellowish lights we all know too well, I had come to realize that these are the only stars I will ever know. My night sky is a myriad of refractions, a conglomerate of colors exhausted from their travels through the thick dust and smoke.
I inspected the battered and broken streets below for any semblance of life, but all I saw were remnants. Dilapidated cars lined the sidewalks, used well beyond both wear and tear but forced to cling to whatever existence serves their drivers. Moths crowded the street lamps. I laughed at how they seemed to be fighting over the right to die first and how fitting that seemed for a place such as this. “Be patient,” I whispered to the wind as I watched their shadows dance about the sides of buildings.
The lack of people failed to surprise. Most were enjoying the drinks and activities of the night behind poorly lit doors and an excess of incomprehensible noises. How this was an appealing prospect for the unseen masses below escaped me, but we all have a right to choose our own worlds. I just wished they would leave the view in mine a little nicer.
I decided to turn my sights higher. My eyes flowed as though they were navigating a maze of windows on the adjacent building. Upwards they traced a path, seeking an exit from the degradation below into something new. Suddenly they paused. An open window, very uncommon and very intriguing.
For an uncertain amount of time I stared at it. Translucent curtains wafted in the winds, convincing me their only purpose was to hypnotize the curious. There was light beyond but it was faint and flickering, either candlelight or poor electrical work. My mind sided with the former, desiring an alternative from the usual explanations.
As if in response to my mental choice, the light completely faded. The curtains had been relegated to fluttering in obscurity and I had little reason to remain focused on that spot. This was my thought until something strange occurred. Pushing out of the darkness and past the window sill was a pale foot, followed by a pale hand, head, and plainly dressed body. Onto the fire escape this figure emerged and while my vision failed to make out all the details, it was clearly a woman, frail and mysterious.
Grasping the rails for support, she peered over the edge of her elevated platform to the ground below. Was this person similar to me? I wanted to believe that she looked down upon this world and pondered it, thought and rethought, judged and misjudged. “Are you and I the same?” I wanted to yell across the divide, but the words remained in my mind.
I gazed at her who gazed below, and noticed that she seemed to be shaking. It was a fairly warm night so I doubted she was cold. It didn't take me long to realize that she was crying. While I could not hear her sobs or see her tears, her hands eventually met her eyes in a futile effort to thwart more tears.
What could I do but wonder what caused these tears to fall, this rain on a cloudless night except those in her mind?
For as long as she remained there, I watched her weep. This flow of emotions from her, while sad, was something I desired more of in my world. It was honest, powerful, and personal. I dared not to look away for fear that this would be the last that I would ever see of such a thing.
And so I sat there and felt.
That is a really awesome picture! I think that really does fit with the picture in my head actually.
