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new month, new #ockissmonthly prompt!

Remember that you can do as much or as little as you want with this prompt during the month of December - drawings, stories, poetry, photography, etc. The only requirement, as always, is that it is about OCs, with no intervention of canon characters!

Please use the tag #ockissmonthly and maybe tag the month you’re participating in if you want me to reblog your creations to this blog. Remember that you can send prompts for every month’s poll!

And if you celebrate anything, Happy Holidays ♥

ockissweek
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Was that you?

Now that it’s imprinted into my memory, I wonder…

That dream a couple years ago…

Was that you?

I could feel my coat around me, thick, bulky, ending at my hip. My hair was down…I don’t why. A scarf was wrapped around my neck, red…I remember the color. It was a red like the lipstick I wear on special occasions, not too bold or too in-your-face. It wasn’t bright and didn’t have tones of orange. No, it was a deep red like cheeks on a winter day or the inner petals of a rose… It’s one of the few reds I’ve ever liked.

The air was cold, and I was walking along the side of the street. I didn’t recognize where… I began to cross a pedestrian’s bridge and I glanced at the sky. It was a white grey, as if someone had pulled alabaster sheer over the sun, and a thick fog rose up from the river below the bridge. The river itself seemed to be fading into the air and each breath was heavy… Somehow, my breath was still visible in the air.

Halfway across the bridge, I stopped and leaned against the heavy marble side, resting my elbows on the top. I don’t know how, but I became lost in the swirling fog, a breath in, a breath out. A warm body hugged me from behind and I stiffened. Usually, I don’t enjoy being touched, except by a choice few. And you spoke to me, your lips almost touching my ear. Some part of me recognized you and I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I can’t remember what you said to me…or in what language you said it. Was it English? French? Spanish? Japanese? Icelandic?

I responded in turn and you laughed, I could feel it against my back, in my ear. It almost made a laugh of my own mingle with the air. Your voice was soft, gracing my ears, and I smiled. You pressed your lips to my ear then down my neck. And I was happy.

And the day claimed me again.

That dream, that I haven’t been able to forget, always there.

Was that you?

Signed,

Vivant

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