Little wonder we stumble in life.

The Ivan Project, #4

Leave a comment

She heard something careening past her ear. Common sense told her it was just a car breaking the speed limit. She heard it squeal to a stop.

What was happening? Was it coming for her? She saw a figure up ahead get out in the distance in front of her. Oh no, it was her father, it was her father! She jumped, turning around to run, the sound of her feet slapping on the concrete and her racing heart for company.

She heard his footsteps coming into harmony with hers, smelled his cologne masking the eternal scent of alcohol she remembered.

He must’ve been two metres behind her now… she had to run faster! She remembered the stitches he gave her, she remembered her brother crumpled at the bottom of the stairs because he tried to protect her… She needed to get away.

He touched her shoulder, causing her jump forward. Crashing to the ground now, she realised once she hit the ground, she’d be trapped.

She flipped around and looked up. “Who are you?”

I tried to base this off the five senses and the five wits.

The five wits originated from Shakespeare’s time, according to Wikipedia. Stephen Hawes‘ poem Graunde Amoure shows that the five (inward) wits were “common wit”, “imagination”, “fantasy”, “estimation”, and “memory”. “Common wit” corresponds to Aristotle’s concept of the sensus communis, and “estimation” roughly corresponds to the modern notion of instinct.

And of course, we know the five senses are hearing, sight, smell, touch and taste. So tell me… How’s my writing? Did it fit?

Author: littlewonder2

A writer in the making, I am learning Japanese, studied Creative Writing in university, and dabble in both fanfiction and original fiction.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s