The Becoming

Yes here it is my timed writing segment for this week

The Becoming

Sabrina made her way across the kitchen floor. Her bare feet brushed softly against the tan colored tile. A long white cloth robe was draped over her from and rustled lightly around her legs as she walked. Her dark hair rested against her shoulders, and fell to the mid of her back.

She grasped the handle of the kettle that had been screaming at her and poured the hot water into a waiting mug. A tendril of smoke drifted up to her nostrils and the coffee scent filled her. Sabrina could almost taste it already while her hands curled around the mug and she felt the heat radiate against her skin.

Slowly Sabrina would start to left the mug up to her lips and take a sip when something stopped her. She heard a sound and turned her head to the window. Her eyes grew wide and she gave a small gasp. She would take a couple steps back and the mug slid from her hands and crashed to the floor with the sound of breaking glass. The hot black liquid ran across the floor and touched just the edge of her toes before she backed away from it.

It took her a few minutes to recover before she would pull a few paper towels from the roll and kneeled down. Sabrina began to wipe the coffee dry and the rose to stand again she walked over to the trash can and dropped the towels inside. She would then crouch down once more and began to pick up the larger pieces of glass dropping them one by one into her other hand which she held cupped.

9:06 PM - 1/26/2007 - post comment

For though All are not able to write books, all conceive themselves able to judge them. ~The Monk

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