Quick little thing I wrote today to work through my lack of creative anything really. I just wrote it and typed it so it’s pretty rough and may not actually make any sense, but it’s something and hopefully soon I can write something with a bit more substance again!

There is nothing.

The room sits still, almost like it has been painted. Nothing moves, nothing reacts, nothing shines or gleams. Everything is dull. Lifeless. Silent.

It stretches on and on and on. Almost comfortably silent. Yet also almost terrifying. The nothingness fills the space. Is almost deafening in its persistence. Ongoing. Screaming. Desperate for something. Anything.

A clearing of the throat. A splattering of rain on a window. A creak in the pipes. A drip from a tap. The soft groan of the sofa as the springs compress under a weight. Just craving noise.

Willing a break in the silence as it gets more oppressive. More deafening. More insufferable.


And still there is nothing.

Main sign off

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Sophie, twenty-something, avid reader, writer, really good at watching whole seasons of TV shows in one weekend and using 10 words where 5 will do, overzealous user of the ellipsis and parentheses, starts too many sentences with ‘and’ and ‘so’, living in a continual state of Wanderlust.

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