- 09 Dec 13, 17:17#383842
The entries are now rolling in for our writing competition. Here is our second entry. Find it also in the Forum and website discussion section
The First Time
I was sitting at my desk in my bedroom on a fairly plain night several years ago. I had my television, on a stand to my left, playing a show quitely for some soft background noise. Directly in front of me sat my desktop computer. It was a warm summer night around 3am. My room was black, save for the glow of the TV and the streetlights. They were orange and infiltrated my room through the blinds, mixing wonderfully with the shadows. My fan was on, providing for a calming rhythmic sound and a refreshing flow of air. I had just got home from work and let my hair down for the first time in eleven hours. My feet were tired and my spirit was repressed. It was a lonely night.
I started playing a game on my computer. The screen emitted an array of lovely, warm colors as I began entertaining myself. I breathed a heavy sigh and let out a small groan, letting the stress of the day flow out of my body. I leaned back in my chair after a few minutes of enjoying my game and stared blankly at my ceiling. I felt somber, although it seemed there was nothing about which to feel somber. I looked at my blinds to the right and thought about those orange streetlights. They were always there...for five years straight, they were always there when I got home from work. They never failed me. I have sat on the curb under them with my head in my hands, broken, hollow, and depressed dozens of times. They stood there, silent and unjudging. I let those thoughts go and turned to another.
I walked to my kitchen and filled a glass with ice, grabbed a diet cola from the fridge and walked back to my room. When I was once again in my chair, basking in the serenity of orange and black, I pulled from my pocket a gift. A friend had given me an exquisite treat that day in the form of a small glass bottle that held no more than two or three ounces of a liquid. It was small bottle of W.L. Weller bourbon. I unscrewed the cap and poured the lovely golden fluid over the ice in my glass. I let it mellow there for a few minutes before indulging.
After a few moments of staring off again at those beams of orange bleeding through the blinds, thinking about the sorrows and pleasantries that I had experienced under their quiet persistence, I lifted my glass and took a sip. I don't remember that first sip, not because it wasn't memorable or that I became too intoxicated, but because that was not what was important. What was important was how I felt minutes later. The warmth spread through me slowly, yet distinctly. My face began to tingle and my breaths became lighter and lighter, less weighted by stress. My shoulders relaxed and the muscles in my neck loosened. I became unaware of my weary feet. My spirit began to lift quite noticeably. I took another, larger sip this time. I could almost taste the sweet cedar barrel from which it came. I topped off my glass with diet cola and finished the concoction quickly. It began to affect me more intensely moments later. This was the best I had felt in a long, long time and it left a lasting impression. I still remember it like it was yesterday. My arms felt as if they would start floating at any minute and I just wanted to let this feeling of euphoric ecstasy flood my soul forever. As I felt this rush, I began gaming again. I let all the negative and uselessly nostalgic thoughts leave my mind and, for the time being I was man seemingly reborn, no longer troubled by the burdens of this world or any other.
The First Time
I was sitting at my desk in my bedroom on a fairly plain night several years ago. I had my television, on a stand to my left, playing a show quitely for some soft background noise. Directly in front of me sat my desktop computer. It was a warm summer night around 3am. My room was black, save for the glow of the TV and the streetlights. They were orange and infiltrated my room through the blinds, mixing wonderfully with the shadows. My fan was on, providing for a calming rhythmic sound and a refreshing flow of air. I had just got home from work and let my hair down for the first time in eleven hours. My feet were tired and my spirit was repressed. It was a lonely night.
I started playing a game on my computer. The screen emitted an array of lovely, warm colors as I began entertaining myself. I breathed a heavy sigh and let out a small groan, letting the stress of the day flow out of my body. I leaned back in my chair after a few minutes of enjoying my game and stared blankly at my ceiling. I felt somber, although it seemed there was nothing about which to feel somber. I looked at my blinds to the right and thought about those orange streetlights. They were always there...for five years straight, they were always there when I got home from work. They never failed me. I have sat on the curb under them with my head in my hands, broken, hollow, and depressed dozens of times. They stood there, silent and unjudging. I let those thoughts go and turned to another.
I walked to my kitchen and filled a glass with ice, grabbed a diet cola from the fridge and walked back to my room. When I was once again in my chair, basking in the serenity of orange and black, I pulled from my pocket a gift. A friend had given me an exquisite treat that day in the form of a small glass bottle that held no more than two or three ounces of a liquid. It was small bottle of W.L. Weller bourbon. I unscrewed the cap and poured the lovely golden fluid over the ice in my glass. I let it mellow there for a few minutes before indulging.
After a few moments of staring off again at those beams of orange bleeding through the blinds, thinking about the sorrows and pleasantries that I had experienced under their quiet persistence, I lifted my glass and took a sip. I don't remember that first sip, not because it wasn't memorable or that I became too intoxicated, but because that was not what was important. What was important was how I felt minutes later. The warmth spread through me slowly, yet distinctly. My face began to tingle and my breaths became lighter and lighter, less weighted by stress. My shoulders relaxed and the muscles in my neck loosened. I became unaware of my weary feet. My spirit began to lift quite noticeably. I took another, larger sip this time. I could almost taste the sweet cedar barrel from which it came. I topped off my glass with diet cola and finished the concoction quickly. It began to affect me more intensely moments later. This was the best I had felt in a long, long time and it left a lasting impression. I still remember it like it was yesterday. My arms felt as if they would start floating at any minute and I just wanted to let this feeling of euphoric ecstasy flood my soul forever. As I felt this rush, I began gaming again. I let all the negative and uselessly nostalgic thoughts leave my mind and, for the time being I was man seemingly reborn, no longer troubled by the burdens of this world or any other.
You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time.
Abe Lincoln
Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power. Abe Lincoln
Abe Lincoln
Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power. Abe Lincoln
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