The branches reached skyward, scratching the cloudy, troubled heavens and failing to leave a mark. Eleanor Ruby Greenway stood at the bus station and sighed; it should be illegal to have to wait more than fifteen minutes for public transportation.
Only a little past three on a Sunday evening and this weekend had already begun its slow, sullen march to its grave, filled with a heavy sense of resignation. Going to the park was sort of a social excursion, right? After all, there were a lot of people there, and she had even spoken to a man selling red balloons; they had been just like the ones the man in the park had sold in Curious George. Except, that of course there was no Man in the Yellow Hat to buy her one, and there had certainly been no antics or adventures.
A strong breeze blew down the street, as if a semi had roared down this quiet, suburban road. Elly clutched her bag closer to herself and shivered.
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5 comments:
texted this on my cellphone to try and see how long it would be if i used every single character. the answer to that question: very long.
wouldn't it be nice for a Man with a Yellow Hat to buy balloons for us all. i especially like the image of the weekend going to its grave. i feel like thats what all my weekends do. slowly sadly with a desperate resignation that i once again wasted it.
I love the first sentence and the line about the weekend beginning its march to the grave. For a text message it's long, but disregarding that it felt short.
Interesting means of writing through a text...
Regardless, it forced you to be concise while still capturing a quick but complete scene.
It's strange...there seems to be a tone of futility and sadness, really, but then there's the hope of searching for some kind of warmth and happiness in the red balloon. I could be reading too far into it. But I like the contrast, nonetheless.
Personally, I thought of that Beatles song -Father Mckenzie, Eleanor Rigby? I believe that was her name. All the Lonely People.
Is that where you got it from, Evan?
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