Nathaniel Ryan Hutchins, prefers Ry- An absent-minded author who can't get a job because all he's interested in is creative writing and music.

Other work


.describe it.

April 8, 2016

PROMPT: All Talk

"It's quite nice-looking." 

"I wouldn't know."

"You can stop being sassy about your blindness at any time, you know." 

"I don't see why." 

"Because- was that another blind pun?"

"Perhaps. Are you going to describe what it looks like out in that perfect-eyesight world of yours or just complain about me? I mean, you must be used to it. We've been best friends for what, twenty years?"

"Twenty two." 

"Yes. That one. Now get to describing, Mister Famous Poet." 

"Okay, fine. You're so pushy.
It's really beautiful out here. I mean, snow's really different from home, you know? It's covering everything like it's trying to smother it as quickly as possible, like the ground's going to pose some sort of threat to it if they give it any oxygen at all. There's- it's not white, you think it would be with all the stuff you see on television. Television lies. It's does have some white there, but it's got shadows of grey and blue and there's even some green reflecting on it. It feels like there's no one else in the world but us and it sounds really cliche, but it's true. We picked a weird time to come out to the park.
You can barely see anything- even the park benches look like some sort of snowy monsters crouched out here, waiting to pounce. It's scary, but in that magical sort of way, like stories about vampires and wizards and magic. Who would've thought it'd be like this in another country? It's weird. Not at all like Australia.
You're standing in a pile of snow- hell, you can probably feel it- and the white looks really stark compared to your boots."

"That contrast thing you talk about, yeah?"

"Yes. Why did you have to wear those green plaid pants with your pink gumboots? You look ridiculous."

"Nonsense. I'm cute. Describe it." 

"I've told you what you look like a thousand times. Don't you ever get tired of it?
Your hair is dumb. I've told you that a million times. I don't know why you had to insist on dying it neon green, it makes your face look really white. Especially because it's short, and all those little curls wisp around your cheeks like they're alive. It makes you look like something else, like a pixie or something other, you know?
You always have this look on your face behind your you can see, like you're seeing things that are lurking at the edges of everyone else's mind. Like there's something else to be seen, something that you can't see but you can all at once. And hey, now we're married, technically you don't need me as a caretaker. Not that you ever needed one to begin with. Maybe a fashion instructor though.
Even though you're blind, you know exactly what you're putting on in th- hey!"

"Talk shit, get hit, Joseph."

"You pulled out my hair!" 


"...Is someone there? The park is closed, I'm going to have to ask you to-

"Shit. Run!" 

"Sir! Madam!"

"Who is that?!" 

"Just a guard. The fence is up ahead, get ready. Can you make the jump?"

"Describe it."


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