Minute Writing #014 I saw a witch once, when I was walking to the bus station late after work. She stopped in front of a set of automatic doors and they didn't open for her. I thought that she might need to move around a bit because those sensors are unreliable but when she looked over at me and made eye contact, she seemed shocked that I was looking at her. It was the eve of Samhain. [true story haha]

Hopfield is Writing

Minute Writing Collection: 19th April

This is the collection of minute writing posts for the week ( ੭ ･ᴗ･ )੭

  • Minute Writing #014 I saw a witch once, when I was walking to the bus station late after work. She stopped in front of a set of automatic doors and they didn't open for her. I thought that she might need to move around a bit because those sensors are unreliable but when she looked over at me and made eye contact, she seemed shocked that I was looking at her. It was the eve of Samhain. [true story haha]
  • Minute Writing #015 There's nothing quite like bathing in the shade beneath an orange tree. Or any citrus tree. Laying in the grass and drinking in the coolness of the shade and the residual heat form the sun as it feeds the orchard. Then I open my eyes to the concrete garden spreading out in front of me and remember they are only memories.
  • Minute Writing #016 I saw a stray cat walking around the city one day, weaving amongst the people's feet as it moved about, like it was late for a meeting. Few people looked at it, which I thought was insane, but one person finally glanced down at the it when he almost kicked it. It made us both jump when the cat snapped, 'Watch where you're going, hairless,' and then continued on. (1/2)
  • Minute Writing #017 He looked around the street, hoping to see that someone else has heard the cat. When his eyes made contact with mine, I looked away. I don't want to get accused of being crazy anymore than I already have. Let him stew alone. His punishment for almost kicking the cat aside before it scolded him. (2/2)
  • Minute Writing #018 I'm playing around with the idea of renaming "minute writing" to "minute madness", because that's exactly what it feels like if I have to backspace more than two letters. It's like that key resets my train of thought after two presses. And now I have twenty seconds to go but my vent is finished. Ten seconds. Oh, what madness!
  • Minute Writing #019 She only liked to wear green, and almost always dressed like it was summer. With the green and her long, dark legs, I often thought it looked like a tree was walking around. I told her she should dye her hair green, for it was a bountiful afro that would only breathe my impression of her more into life. She laughed at me, petted my head and straightened back up. I felt like a shrub beside her.
  • Minute Writing #020 I have a lot of apocalypse dreams, usually about zombies. They're almost always shufflers, or faster at night and I know to hunker down anyway. I don't mind these dreams, having fun in them really, but I fear the dreams when I get the monstrous zombies. I actually feel in danger in those dreams and I'm running to get out rather than build my base.
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