Maybe she can finally breathe...

And just be a writer again.

It plagues her with the smallest twinges of guilt as her hand brushes gently across the spines of hundreds of creatures, cold and abandoned, some almost crying out to her in a muffled, pathetic and painful attempt as they smother themselves with a dusty inhale. Others regard her with scorn, their titles threatening, a forceful blow to the mind, and a disdainful gaze she holds as a disability within to fall prey under; promises and hopes and dreams of glory and the watering taste of completion at their breath's end. Now hardened and tattered and somewhat limp as they leaned across the others, calling out remembrance and hope and killing themselves inside as she somewhat hesitates and continues past them.

It finally pangs her enough, though. Pursing her lip, she grabs a random one carelessly as it slips away from the others and the entire shelf seems to rejoice in a heart's flutter. She studies the others a moment, their titles engraved in varied colors, others nameless or half-hearted, and flips open through a few pages of the book in hand, pensive. Her face scrunches a bit, skimming now, and clasping the rest of the pages together, as if they needed such support, the large group in hand falls to the front with a whuff of air, and at the very last of it, the pages are half written. The last sentence pauses mid-stride and never continues with a thought to punctuation or any sort.

This angers her enough to throw the poor thing upon the thin, exotic patterned rug with a patronizing glance, teeth slightly uneven in something of a grit and an inward, calm sigh. Calculating, she closes her eyes to her own disgrace, saves it, placing it firmly upon the shelf in a new spot, sliding it in and holding it tight for a moment, finally releasing it. It slouches oft left and seems to sense her false pretense of contentment.

Sauntering down the silent hall for a bit, breath a bit stifled and eyes a bit wet from the irritation in the air, she blows it away briefly and her eyes happen to fall upon a spine with a simple double-take. A warm smile falls upon her features, creasing up near the highest peaks of her face, and shamelessly, she pulls it aside. This one was coated with a thin layer of dust, very fine, but it mirrored the smile she wore with most sincerity. Opening it, the pages flickered graciously across her eyes, scanning what was once held as a masterpiece and the longest thing ever neared an end and then some. She fell silent for a few moments, fragmenting a bit as the pages flew on and biting back a spiteful laugh in sight of herself, baring a small, guilty grin. The very pages itself were studying her expression, pleading for once-again approval, but seemed to land upon lack-luster at reading her better than well, an open book.

The words were old, yet their origin quite young. This had been among the beginning of her collection and, as such, held many of her mistakes skewn in a flaunting manner within every few sentences. What had at once seemed perfect now had... far less appeal than anything else. Sliding it away with a final close somewhere toward the middle, a piece of her fell empty as she continued on, avoiding any thought of it that continued with her.

Blowing a sigh, she glances to the shelves at her left. Most of them are amid bare, lying laggardly amongst themselves like beach-goers in the afternoon sun. Her gazes shifts to a playfully condescending one, angled a bit, and twitches a faint smile. With a a smooth stride she makes a waltz towards one and, snatching it off the archives, her eyes are eager to indulge. The details read, as is:

[October 21st, 2011]

Last Major Update: Two pages, seven paragraphs. Approximately 2,143 words.

Recent Work: (Dating November 2011 & Onwards)

Minor editing, sentence structure, creative thesaurus replacements and general maintenance work.

Comments/Notes: Don't forget me.

Etched in chicken scratched, faded words that imprinted upon the opposite side was a note that left her fidgeting in the quietest ways. It was given in Sharpie, something most likely given at a last moment's notice as such tools were out of question for any sort of work, sans typography. This creature had effectively stared her in the eyes, spoken its placated demands, and rendered her in a state of concealed ingenuity. Closed, she stroked the cover as if it were a kitten or the gentle image of a small child, her eyes were cast in the opposite direction, oft the ground as she set it down in somewhat of a slurred pace. Her steps were careful as she continued closer towards the exit, mentally within a mad dash for freedom of this state. She was anew now, high above all other free-spirited works that had left her in such dark times and recorded every minute of it. Her style was in a new range and she would never resort back to the past in place of honor.

Her eyes were now shifting aimlessly towards the ceiling, her slightly worn in flats, shuffling with no hurry towards her goal. With pity she disciplined and disregarded any cries of helplessness the piece had so given her and now was mourning rejection. Twice.

Her free hand shifted to her pocket and, fell upon an old pen, amid some spare, scattered items cluttering her space. It was hardy the right color, she reasoned, with a distasteful, muted gaze and something of an eye-roll. Slipping it from the suffocating grasp of the other items, the red-ink eyed her gently. It would be more fit for correcting, if at anything at all.

It was a tough, fermented decision. Turning upon a heel, hands clasped loosely behind her back, she side-winded towards the memory and opened the back again, eyes flying over it. With an even looser smirk, she etched in what had long been awaited for the poor creature, and it seemed to fall into another sleep; a peaceful rest, at one with itself and finally receded from hurting any longer.

I won't.

Still a little old, have yet to post anything updated but once I catch up with these older docs we'll see about that. Haven't visited here in quite a while, but I figured it was worth it.