Reputation is heavy,
an expensive coat
draped over your shoulders
by your friends, your family —
such an honor to wear —
but what they don’t know
is how the dampness clings to the wool inside,
leaking down your back, from the sleeves
just as slime streaks down a prison wall —
on the outside, cool and glossy,
on the inside, hot and sweaty —
but you can’t take it off,
because you’ve got nothing
but tender infant skin beneath,
and do you want to stand naked
before the world —?
Stripped of that trust
lying across your shoulders,
that collar squeezing your neck,
like a snake,
alwa
The Mist Market (short writing exercise) by TangentExpress, literature
Literature
The Mist Market (short writing exercise)
When I entered the marketplace, my lungs seemed to shrink in my chest as I was enveloped by nebulous, chalk-colored smog. I did not falter in my steps, but I walked slowly, peering about me as though I were in a dream.
The sun overhead looked like a molten chunk of white gold, turning over and over in the heated sky. It burned through the ghostly haze in such an overbearing manner that the townsfolk seemed loath to lift their eyes any higher than the brims of their hats.
The hard cobblestone pathways were laced with cracks, and plumes of dust rose out of them furiously whenever a wooden cart clattered and clacked over them. I saw a watermel