Hello friends! I am practicing my writing craft. I’d consider this a prose. If you’d like to practice yours, identify the literary devices I use to describe my night, and what makes it relatable.
“croak. croak. croak.
Those are the sounds that haunt me on this night. After a timeless day that dragged on forever, I am finally at a time for rest.
‘But wait.’ cried the inner workings of my mind. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know where you’re headed. You’re scared. Think about it. But wait…’
Thoughts cloud my mind. Thoughts of the future, fear, and fantasies of freedom. Thoughts that pantomime claustrophobia. What if I get stuck here? How will I make money? Who will stay in my life and who will be eliminated? But wait.
It’s time to sleep, it’s very late. I can’t escape my own brain in the wee hours before dawn. They are trapped, and threaten that I will be the same. They are trapped and never rest. They are trapped. They have no where to go, so they circle like wolves in the light of a full moon; hungry, waiting to be fed… yet satisfied with the latest accomplishment. Never ceasing to seek what’s next, but never forgetting what happened before. But wait.
Life’s too short to not do something I love. Life’s too long to always do what I love. I will be content with where I am when I am there. I will never be content until I’ve accomplished everything. I will accomplish everything I have set out to do. I will never cease to create new goals. But wait.
These are the thoughts that haunt me at night; clouding my mind, confusing my plans, and heisting my sleep. Round and round and round they go until the sun comes up. These cloudy thoughts burn off with the sun and finally I can rest.
Silence. The croaking has finished, my thoughts are mute. Silence.
It’s time to get up, and begin a new day. Restless nights call for restless days. The wolves and croaks come back in this cycle without fail and rest becomes an elusive figure, an unattainable entity. It becomes unreal. Was it ever real at all?”