12 July 2016

Alone


Last week, as I was searching for writing prompts, I stumbled across Creative Writing Ink, an appealing writing website that weekly posts images. These images serve as creative writing prompts for bloggers and writers. These prompts are uploaded every Thursday, and are helpful in inspiring creativity and challenging a writer to draft a piece in any genre that relates to the image. (Although I'm over a month late for this first prompt response, I decided to draft one anyway.) I will continue to publish my responses to these prompts if (although I hope I do) finish responding to all the prompts. For more information about these prompts and the affiliated contest hosted on Creative Writing Ink, visit the links within this paragraph.

(Note: The image used for this prompt is a copyrighted image of Piotr Mamnaimie.)

© Piotr Mamnaimie

Alone - (Creative Writing Ink Prompt June 2)
  I was alone. Again.
  Lydia Bager, the manager of this cosmetic clinic, requested that I stay after hours to organize a recent shipment of facial products. Unnecessarily gesturing with her hands, she condescendingly explained that I was to arrange the products in an intricate display. The organization of products in layered tiers is a daunting task collectively. Individually, I knew that I would be at the clinic for many more hours.
  Sighing, I searched for the loose keys in my pocket. Randomly selecting a key on the ring, I viciously sliced through the tape expanding across the cardboard boxes. Tossing my keys to the side, I hefted each box into the air, and allowed its contents to spill onto the cold tile. Grabbing an armful of samples, I began arranging them.
  Hours later, as I was massaging my back from hunching over, the familiar form of a display became distinguishable. Relieved by my progress, I efficiently organized the remaining samples until I completed the arrangement.
  Allowing myself to grin slightly, I rose from my crouched position to leave the clinic. I then awkwardly shoved my arms into the sleeves of a long overcoat. Remembering that I had absentmindedly tossed my keys away hours earlier, I squinted my eyes, hoping to notice the reflection of my key ring. Wandering around the clinic, I recalled tossing the keys a short distance away from the samples. Returning to the display, I glimpsed the keys under a glass counter.
  Walking toward the keys, I mistakenly tripped over my long coat, stumbling into the display and scattering the arranged samples. As the display collapsed, I collapsed, tears streaking down my face in rivulets.
  Motionless, I realized that I was alone. Again.





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