From On Rooftops

I stand on rooftops and watch the revellers applaud their own discoveries; delighted with the depth of their designs. Their naivete carries on the breeze, weak with unworldly caution. And they are thrown into wild winds and wicked wonderings are followed down paths without end.

What deaths await them there. Where monsters wait to claw at their innocence; their infinite ideals of a life yet to be lived. I do not envy them. I have walked through many woods. I have weaved and wondered wide, left weary but wiser, I have wound my way back.

No, I do not think I shall follow those thoughtless few again. I will not be drawn, derailed from my dedication, down dangerous paths, to a life unliveable. But if I should I shall not be scared, I shall not slink past. I am sharper now, sharp as a spoon to scoop out the flesh of unforgotten foes.

Now I sit on rooftops. And regale the wind with tales of times which continue to trickle through my train of thought. Memories fade and flicker, I feel them, forlornly reminding me of the me I used to be.

I wonder, whether there can only be long falls from high graces, from lofty places. But why would I leave, when the air is so clear. Here I can see the cut and colour of every monster in the making, and smell every careless choice, every unkind undertaking. From up here I can collect the scents of other people’s catastrophes.

 

During the Covid outbreak my writing teacher is challenging us to create a piece of writing based on three specific words. This piece is based on the words: collect, rooftop, scent.

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