This is what I came up with during the in class calisthenic
on character development. I feel that my focus strayed from describing the character
and turned into a story.
Onyx
You stand there imaging the scent if she slipped over the
balcony. The way the red would melt into the pavement. Your arms clasped behind
you, frozen at the wrist like a minor being arrested for the first time. Your
eyes darting back and forth the hair on your neck smoothing out as you lock the
scene away, the darkness of it a cancer on your heart. Her eyes lock with
yours, and you’re trapped. You cringe at the tug on your scarf as she pulls you
closer. I can almost hear you wishing to be somewhere other than there on the
balcony with her. A mockingbird calls to you from the tree inches away from
where you stand. You attempt to focus on it rather than her empathetic, eager
eyes. But you can’t break the spell, your body is frozen, telling you to admit
defeat. Her hazel orbs burn into you, your senses overwhelmed by the smell of
snickerdoodle cookie dough. She leans toward you like Michael Jackson when he
performed bad. Run away. You do, now she’s just another memory locked in the
piece of onyx in your chest.
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