Blog Post #2

Practice Narrative Writing

Every winter when i feel the cold and frigid air touch my skin. I feel the urge, the desire, to flick a match to life and feel the growing warmth of a house fire filling the room. As I tangle and intertwine myself with the soft red fabric that welcomes me into its embrace, I bring a boiling hot mixture of exotic herbs to my lips and let it run down my throat. The fire pops and blows the ashes up into the brick. I can feel the dark and frozen air leave me as I close my eyes to see the faint light of the fire in the darkness within me. When i return to reality I rip open a book that is covered in leather and begin to mark the thin pages with ink. Doing so i reenter my own world of imagination.



I commented on Shelby's blog and Hannah's blog.