Prompt 2: Writing Short Fiction: Introduction

The playful intimacy I experienced with her was like nothing I had ever experienced before. She was there—right there—and I was there with her, unguarded. I wasn't thinking about roses or hummingbirds, or hotels or resorts. I was hers. She was mine. Sometimes, there's an urge inside me that bubbles up; it wants to be impulsive and crave things. That night, I just wanted to pour all I had into this dark, dark world. I felt a voracious need to scream, with all my might and body and all my soul. My soul couldn't wait to turn into ether and to disappear in the eternity of the universe. It felt like—some kind of creature had slithered inside of me and gripped my lungs with its sharp claws, and kept licking my heart with its sandpaper tongue. And then I felt wrung out, like someone had dehydrated me and pressed me flat into the air gap between the soundproof glass panels on the recording studio. I couldn't concentrate; not even my noise-cancelling headphones could hush my mind. All I did was just ask her, and to my awe, she jumped right in. She—the one with the manicured nails and always perfectly curled hair-dove right into my pool of impulses, and she howled with me like a wolf. We kept howling from the rooftop of our twenty-story tower. The security guard opened the door to the rooftop and followed us there. She groaned in despair. I think by then, the guard realized that I was going to do things that would seem weird to her, and no matter how much she forbade me to, I would do them anyway. The woman just mentioned the time to us passive-aggressively, "It's 1.00 am", she said.