Roisin Dauth


I'm a person with to many things in my head, and not enough creativity to write them. But I hope I improve and I hope to have my pieces enjoyed.

Message from Writer

What you will find here is the product of rare instances in which I actually write something. I hope you enjoy.

The Story of a Girl and a Balcony

April 23, 2016


Beep beep beep.
A flashing yellow light suddenly illuminated the room, revealing a mound of blankets, and a floor that resembled a war zone of clothes. 
“Good morning San Diageo. It will be a lovely summer’s day today, with tops of 29 degrees…”
The radio continued its early morning chant, with the clocks beeping as the back beat while the blanket mound began to stir. A small whimper of a groan escaped from the mound to express its displeasure for the unwelcome cacophony of sounds that was now invading its precious sleeping time. But its protest was met with more cheering chirping.
“Remember folks today is a grand day of celebration, so make sure you don’t miss the parade..”
A flash of flesh dashed out of the pile of blankets like a snake striking its prey in a blind attempt to win its peace back. But, like a blind man without his stick it failed to reach its target, with only a pang of pain to show for its valiant attempt. 
“Aghhhh…” a voice hissed from beneath the blankets.
The mound began to stir, pillows toppling over and on to the floor, and blankets slithering off the bed like a snake shedding its skin.  
“Why do I even set this bloody alarm…” the voice grumbled.
The final blankets fell away to reveal a girl, whose face had honestly, well, seen better mornings. Her hair was a mass of black frizz, barely resembling the carefully quaffed style it began last night as. And her face looked like a toddler had just found its mothers make up bag and experimented on the dog. She sat up carefully, scared that the banging in her head would increase its already painful rhythm. She moved her hand crossed the bed side table searching for the button that would shut the radio up. Click. Her hand had found its mark, and peace once again descended. A small smile leaked crossed her face as the silent bliss soothed her throbbing head.
She fell back and let her pillows encompass her, waiting for sleep to take her over. But after a moment of still, she realised the worst possible thing. She couldn’t get back to sleep.  On a god damn Saturday morning too, she thought. A line of grumbles emitted from her mouth, most of which resembled curse words not to be said in front of small children.
“Stupid damn clock and its stupid beeping, and its stupid radio presenter and its stupidness, why do I even have an alarm?!” 
The girls rant continued as she proceeded to drag her limbs out of the bed and place her feet on the floor with a solid thump. Sending a wave of pain to crash all over her body.
“Owwwwww” she groaned.
She looked over to the clock, and groaned even louder. It was only 7:30. How and why did she even set the alarm?! With a huff she looked away from the clock and focused the little energy she had left in getting out of her room. Speaking of which she could barely see any of.  
All the windows were closed with only a slither of light escaping from the blinds to light up her room. She squinted around the room, finding only a mess of clothing strewn across the floor from last night, which she would maybe definitely not clean later. She stood up, every muscle in her body pulling her back towards the bed, but her mind knew they would not be satisfied if they did. So, in a groggy trance, she reached for the windows chord, and stopped just before she pulled. Probably not the best idea, she thought, considering how bad the throbbing was in her head, and how little she could remember from last night. Abandoning her quest for a guiding light, she proceeded to aim herself in a direction she thinks the door to the kitchen is. Tripping over various un-nameable objects with many ow’s and cursing she finally found what she hoped was the door to the kitchen. Slowly opening it with squinting eyes she prepared for the worst. But, luckily her fears of people looking at her though windows paid off, and she had already closed all the blinds. 
Spirits now slightly lifted she fumbled over to the coffee machine. Grabbing the packet of black gold that she swore would one day be the currency of the world, she made herself a bitterly sweet coffee. As the coffee machine was humming away she shivered, realising for the first time how draftee it was in her apartment, which was strange since the windows weren’t opened. But when the machines hum stopped the thought left her mind, and holding the life-saving liquid in her hand she went out to her balcony, now fully prepared to take on the day’s light with her arsenal of coffee.
Still groggy though, she slid the door open with a screech that made her cringe, and walked outside and leaned on the balcony rail. She took a sip of her liquid gold and let the warmth and caffeine seep into her body, while soaking up the sun’s rays. The noise of the parade beneath her reached her ear with a small wince in response. She was on the fourth floor of her building so she could see the parade pretty well. They went all out this year she thought, they had tonnes more inflatable balloons, and a really awesome looking band. She stood and admired the parade walking by for a while until she started to hear wolf whistles coming from the spectators below. She sighed and shook her head. Some poor sod was really getting it from the crowd today. She leaned a little further over the balcony to see who was the victim of this scrutiny, but furrowed her eyebrow when she saw people looking up at her building. She looked left, then right, but no-one else was on their balcony. The wolf whistles increased. 
Her eyebrows unfurrowed and began to slowly climb up her forehead, dragging her eyes further open with it. A sensation of dread started to overcome her in the form of a hot flush. 
“Melany? Is that you?” A voice shouted from the crowd below.
David. Oh God it was David. 
But her mind didn’t have time to fully register his presence. She took a step back and looked down at her body, as the wind sent a shiver of cold down her spine.
No wonder it was so draftee. 
She didn’t have any clothes on.  


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  • April 23, 2016 - 2:05am (Now Viewing)

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