August

Ok, so i enjoy writing (clearly) and have decided to be brave and use this as a forum to test out some of my works...get a feel for putting myself and what I love out there, getting honest criticism and feedback, and just have the experience (good or bad) of being brave at something, (and it may sound lame but this feels pretty brave to me.) Apparently no quite so brave, however, because im going to start with some stuff that a few of you have already seen, and then work up to some new and longer pieces. I write the way i think, therefore, puunctuation will probably suck....you know, as well as grammar, But content, that's what im hoping will be well critiqued. 
This is short, and one i wrote a few years back...its relevant to who i am though, so i thought it might be useful not only as an example of my work but a bit about me as well...here we go...


(Exhales) "It feels like August." She rubs her forehead stiffly.

She gets restless at night, needs to be up and moving, but she couldn't possibly stay downstairs. There were three doors, countless windows, and all of them open. And, it was dark. Not the dark of a house at night but the dark breathiness that comes from outside – from those blasted, countless doors and windows flung open to the nights saturated wafts and breezes, bringing that night darkness seamlessly inward. The fragrance, the windswept chill, the glowing dimness; it was all too August for her - so she ran upstairs to the small back room and shut herself into the artificial darkness of the stuffy halogen lit space. This strange, cramped world, though maddening, was less emotive than the August freshness downstairs. "Damn" she spat, and shut the light.

 
 
 
~Kim