Today is one of those days where the rain pounds mercilessly down upon me.
The roses she had always tended to in her front yard, behind the large oak tree, have long wilted; died so many years ago just as I have. Long before she grew to be the woman I barely know today, she brought sunshine in large doses and laughs in maximum volume. When she first bought me she assured me that I would be the most important thing in her life, which I truly was back then. We shared secrets, well...I mostly kept them safe; pictures, tiny trinkets, old letters and bracelets...To this day, I am still not sure if she's just forgotten where she put me or the time has come where she no longer wants me. Both of the options hurt to be honest.
I still make sure no one is able to take what had been precious to her all those years ago, though. She trusted me to keep her secrets, and so I would until the components I am made of falter with the pace of mother nature's rapture. I guard it with the same determination as I had the first day, when her fingers caressed me-gently going over my surface and always placing a kiss against my soul before she locked the chest and tucked it behind the rose bushes once again. I can already feel the rust clinging to me, trying to destroy my will, but I won't falter and fall. I haven't reached my limit yet, my task isn't done until she tells me it is okay to leave this chest unguarded to the eyes that like to prey. But...did it really matter anymore?
There's a rustle in the bushes, one that makes me think of excitement. Years I've lain untouched. When exactly was the last time she pulled out the key that unlocked me? Or shared the longing the things she hid held, and the happy smiles? But the hope of seeing her, hearing her thank me for keeping her things safe for so long, is nothing but that: hope. It's a cat that rushes by the little chest hidden just the slightest bit by the dirt covering its surface.
Today is just one of the days where I treasure the moments when I was important.
So my wonderfully maleficent writing buddy, Jeeps, decided to do a 100 day word challenge, which she is regretting because I've put more challenges to it; such as what point of view will be used. She really hates me right now. Originally it was going to be 325 words per prompt because she was complaining so I kept upping the wordcount, so the ones up until eight are that much-at least, so to speak. But since I am forcing her to join another writing contest, yes I love her so much and she asked me to be her writing buddy so she has no choice, I've decided to play nice and cut the wordcount for the 100 day challenge to 200 words.
Ramble ramble, just enjoy?