This is just a simple excerpt from the novel I have been working on. Enjoy! And critique!
The river, almost stale, stopped in motion. Moving quietly
and yet swiftly, more so than her own feet floating and quickening, attempting
to match pace and yet it moved with covert speed and agility, flitting and
flopping over the rocks.
She tried and tried, but she could never quite catch up.
Was she really trying to catch the river or something else?
She loved unmade beds. She loved when people were drunk and
crying and could not be anything but honest in that moment. She loved the look
in people’s eyes when they were in love. She loved the way people looked when
they first woke up and they had forgotten their surroundings. She loved the
gasp people took when their favorite character dies. She loved when people
closed their eyes and drifted to somewhere in the clouds; up, up and away. She fell in love with people and their honest
moments all the time. She fell in love with their breakdowns and their chaotic
faces and their daydreams. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into
words.
It started deep from within. That pounding in her chest,
still strong but a deeper throb than usual. She just hoped they all beat together
so that the cracks didn’t get deeper, or completely fall apart.
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