Did you know I write?

I am currently studying a degree in Drama and Creative Writing, and every time I write a new blog entry, I post the link in the "Creative Writing Freshers" group on Facebook. The other people in the group, however, write blogs that consist of actual pieces of their own creative writing, while I write melodramatic little soliloquies about friendship, love and heartbreak.

Not gonna lie, I do sometimes feel a bit frivolous and inferior by comparison. So, I thought I might try posting a short piece of my own writing. In our lecture we were talking about how setting can be affected by happiness or sadness, so I tested that theory out... Using a rather lovely and totally non-fiction memory of mine. 

My head is on his chest, and I’m slowly sinking into the soft cushions beneath me, feeling so comfortable and warm that I am in danger of falling asleep. A hand brushes my cheek before moving down to playfully tickle my neck; I close my eyes and breathe in the rich and unmistakable smell of wood smoke that always hangs thick in the air. I can hear the constant stream of chatter coming from the television, and some background babble from the radio in the kitchen. There is also a faint hiss and crackle every now and again from the wood burner in the corner of the room, the source of that delicious smell that I’ve come to associate with happiness and love. Whatever is on television must be funny, because my dozes are frequently interrupted by that infectious laughter that ripples through his body and jostles me a little. If it were anyone else waking me up, I would be irritated. But because it’s him, I don’t mind. In fact, I wake up a little and laugh along with him; thinking about how he is the only one who can always put a smile on my face, and wondering if he realises just how much that means to me. How much he means to me.

I raise my head ever so slightly to look out the window; it’s still snowing. Big thick flakes are tumbling down, lining the windows and covering the ground. After several days’ heavy snowfall, the cars in the driveway are just great masses of white and the trees around the house are looking beautiful, although clearly straining under the weight. The apples on the apple tree in the front garden are frosted, as though they were each individually studded with a thousand priceless crystals and left on the tree as a present for those who were brave enough to venture outside in the snow. We were those brave ones earlier today, venturing into the blizzard in our boots and mittens, trekking through the snowy fields and valleys searching for the perfect sledding spot. Now the snow has covered our footprints, leaving no evidence that we were ever there. The continuous snowfall means I’ll be staying here tonight, and probably most of tomorrow. Right in this moment, I am the happiest I have ever been.


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