And here's the last short creative piece I've written (for now).
The Shattered Life
© 2011 David H. Watson
He sat there in silence, the lights turned off making the room pitch black. The only sound that could be heard was his breathing and the faint ticks of the clock on the wall - tick, breathe in, tock, breathe out. And so the seconds passed, turning into minutes. He swished the glass in his right hand, hearing the clinking of the ice cubes and the sloshing of the liquid inside. He raised the glass to his lips, paused, parted his lips slightly and downed the glass. The alcohol burned his throat on the way down.
'What did I pour again?' He asked himself. 'It doesn't matter really, all those bottles behind that bar serve the same purpose; they make you forget your miserable life. But to what end? It's only a short time, and then you wake up to the same reality as before!' Sighing, he flung the glass against the wall, shattering it into little pieces. That's how his life felt to him - shattered, broken.
DH
