creative writing

A friend of mine sent me this image while she was talking about how she wanted to write more stories. I told her that writing from an image is a good way to get the creative ball rolling, so I took this photo from a movie I cannot remember the name of, and I began to write and just let whatever i wrote stay on the word doc. and came up with a short story I called windowsill.




On a not particularly sunny morn in a city that has little of anything to see, Mira sat. Sat on the windowsill in a half daze thinking about the night before ‘wild’ she thought ‘simply wild’. I little hint a smile came to her cheeks as her gaze resting on a grey river swallowed the cloudy sunlight. ‘If my parents could see me now’ a nostalgic feeling ebbed into her subconscious ‘dad would be pissed… mom would be proud’ she sighed heavily. If there was a god out there perhaps last night was his sign; how else could it all feel so calm after?
Mira lifted herself from the sill and gathered her things; a male was sleeping soundly, nude in a flowing bed sheet that resembled an ocean of green covering his masculine torso. ‘He sleeps like a beast’ the man let out a loud snort ‘sound like one too’ her mind let out all the thoughts from the past slip away. She had closed the door of the apartment with two long seconds she saw the door’s number for what it really was… a page number.
A sly hint of red to her face shown as she hit the cold air, as bundled as she was the fall seemed harsh and dead. As she walked the length of the royal cascaded red, a slightly familiar doorman gave a parting word
“Played your card tonight” his monotone rung this unusual query, Mira skipped no beats in her response.
“And guess who got the joker?” was what she responded her words like silk from a spool flowing in a way that would make a musician looking for his muse cry out in joy.
“Going home alright?” the doorman said, and with the same grace as before came the end of the conversation.
“Seems so, though only on bumpy roads” she strode off into the foggy morn to a place she had long left.