Exercise 2
Page 21
Imperative

Write a fragment of story that is made up of imperative commands: Do this; do that; contemplate the rear end of the woman who is walking out of your life.  This will be a sort of second-person Narration.  500 words.
Run.  Run.  Run.  Feel your chest tighten as the icy night air burns your lungs.  Don't turn around for there is something horrific behind you.  Hear its tread upon the ground.  Know your time is up.  Feel the raw fear.  Try to scream but be met with silence.  Try to speed up but your legs move as if wading through mud.  Give up.  Turn.  Stop running and face that nightmare your mind can barely generate.  See yourself.  Cry out.  Fade into the next dream.  Finally be who you were born to be, that lovely creature with long shining hair and nails like diamonds.  Flash your smile at the crowds.  Mingle with those posh young men in their silk suits.  Smooth down your sequined dress and sip martinis until your head spins.  Laugh like a bell.  See him from across the room and join the dance.  Lure him in sweetly.  Wind him up slowly.  Bring him to his knees.  Bring him upstairs.  Feel his hands on your smooth thighs...

Wake up.

Bite back the disappointment.  Rub the night from you eyes and squint at the sun peeping over the edge of your bed through the curtains.  Scratch.  Adjust yourself.  Swing one hairy leg over the side of the mattress, the sheets pulling around your calf.  Stand.  Stretch.  Wish you where back in bed, dreaming still.  Lumber gracelessly towards the bathroom, still caught up in that dream.  Stand before the toilet.  Stand to piss.  Ignore it.  Concentrate on the cat winding itself around your ankle.  Tuck in.  Rinse your hands.  Dry them on a towel and avoid eye contact with yourself in the mirror.  Stagger to the kitchen.  Avoid the cat who is trying his best to trip you, his cries insistent.  Open the cupboard and find a can.  Open it and unleash its contents into the interior of a little brown bowl.  Set it on the floor and watch in satisfaction as your friend purrs out a tune.

Try to forget.  Try to forget.  Feel your feet taking you back towards that wicked mirror and stop.  Put both hands upon the kitchen counter and breath deeply.  Explore your senses.  Feel the day week old toast crumbs courtesy of the toaster beneath our finger tips.  See the paint peeling along the wall.  Taste the morning on your breath.  Hear the steady, "Glop, glop," of a feasting feline.  Smell the fishy scent of his meal.  Try not to be sick.  Breath.  Head towards the bathroom anyway with the intent of ignoring the mirror.  Don't look.  Don't look!  See your scruffy face out of the corner of your eye and pause in front of the mirror.  Breath.  Feel that sense of loss.  Feel that bitter nagging discontentment.  Sigh.  Pinch your cheeks and pull your ears.  Pout.  Check your hairline.  Flip yourself off.  Then close your eyes a moment and relive the dream after the nightmare.  Make a decision.  Decide.  Grab a razor and some shaving cream.  Live another day.  Do the same tomorrow.

The End.

501 words.  Today I wrote about gender disphoria, a matter close to my own heart.  Though I wrote from the male perspective.  May the errors be few and the grammar not suck. My keyboard sticks so I'm having a little trouble here.  But I think it came out alright.  That was a lot easier than I thought it would be.