Writing exercise thread

[Anonymous No.12316485]

Rewrite or expand on the following passage to the best of your ability:
>I laid in bed and held my phone. The sun was lifting towards a rainy sky. The early tides of light flooded my window, spilling onto my sheets dappled brightnesses of cold and white. I was submerged into the day, as I was every day, every baptism, every drowning.

[Anonymous No.12316496]

>I didn't like drowning so I remembered to breath. That helped. You sometimes forget to breath and have to remind yourself. It helps to count the breaths in sixes. If you go too fast you'll get light-headed and maybe a little scared. If you go too slow you get worried and want to cry. Right in the middle is best. That's where I want to live life, right in the middle.

[Bet No.12316551]

>My phone has been falling asleep all afternoon. It woke this morning, calling out, cancelling plans. Sunny day rainchecked to storm warnings. I close the window, close the aperture. Tomorrow lovely indifferent.

[Anonymous No.12316637]

>>12316496
>Though life itself makes this impossible. A body of water is most dangerous at its middle, where the shorelines crumble into oblivion beneath the impossible weight of horizons, where river currents gnash and spit like a rabid Scamander. Where airplanes are last heard from and where ships can be swallowed without chewing. No more faithful omen to Death has existed among men than the aqueous centroid.

[Anonymous No.12316641]

>>12316551
I like this, Anon.

[Anonymous No.12317066]

>>12316485
>>12316637
>>12316496
I laid in bed and held the screen. The sun was lifting towards a rainy sky. The early tides of light flooded my window, spilling onto my sheets dappled coruscations of a cold and sainted white. The wet motes of a liquid sun trickled into a hoary deluge, washing away shadow and dark. All the warmth of the night dissipated. Thick drops clattered loudly against the panes, violently reforming themselves from sphere to a stream, as clear as crystal. The gutters percussed and groaned and chimed and whistled like some sort of Seussian instrument which only a storm could play. I was submerged into the day, as I was every day, every baptism, every drowning.

I am drowned and reborn a thousand times. I don’t like drowning. One must remember to swim.You sometimes forget to swim and have to remind yourself. It helps to count the strokes in sixes. If you go too fast you will drown. If you go too slow you will drown. Right in the middle is best. That's where we want to live life, right in the middle.

Though life itself makes this impossible. A body of water is most dangerous at its middle. The shorelines crumble into oblivion beneath the impossible weight of horizons and the river currents gnash and spit like a rabid Scamander. The middle—where airplanes are last heard from and where ships can be swallowed without chewing. No more faithful omen to Death has existed among men than the aqueous centroid. We must escape the middle, and fast. But we can only save ourselves from the terrors of the middle by the means of some other middle, some middle way, or some middle person. For it is a tautology that a man is always equidistant from himself.

The screen sickened me. The sun’s cool fingers lifted the covers and grasped me by the bones. Yet it was the screen that paralyzed me. It anchored me to the bed, to this room, to this middle.

[Anonymous No.12317184]

>>12316496
>>12317066
The center being both a place of safety and danger is a fertile idea.

[Anonymous No.12317331]

>>12316485

>I laid in bed and held my phone. The sun was lifting towards a rainy sky. The early tides of light flooded my window, spilling onto my sheets dappled brightnesses of cold and white. I was submerged into the day, as I was every day, every baptism, every drowning.

Somewhere behind the clouds the sun came up, but the rain stole any beauty from the sunrise. I lay in bed, holding my phone. Waiting for her to cancel. Drowning in it all.

[Anonymous No.12317643]

>>12317331