September 6th Creative Writing Prompt/ Writing

(Creative Writing Ink Page Link: https://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/resources/writing-prompts/ )

Creative Writing Ink (2018). Girl holding clock. [image] Available at: https://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/resources/writing-prompts/ [Accessed 24 Sep. 2018].

At First  by Buddy Summer

"You. Author." 

An index finger confidently points at me through my glasses. My head zooms backwards and it's just me alone with a laughing woman; closer to my face than I am admittedly comfortable with. Her once serious expression is erased with a light smile and a giggle. Her head loses tension, falling slightly to one side. Arms drop by her sides and she spins in the direction of her tilted head. She walks to a midpoint in the frustratingly still room and turns back around. Eyes on me like a child willing you to get them an ice cream.

Arms in the air as if ready to catch a very large something from the vacant sky. 
"Take me somewhere where time stops. Let me breathe in water. Let me swim in lava. Take this clock and wind backwards. Wind forwards. Smash it to the ground."
Enthusiastically, her hands mimic her words.

Her imagination continues to run with a pause and a vacant look. I stare. Move my glasses to the tip of my nose.

"I want a life of tremendousness, a life that goes beyond my imagination...Take me to lake placid and run my fingers along the embossed Alligators head - pull me away quickly in the sweep of a snappy sentence." 

All of a sudden, No Name Girl falls to her knees with a thud. This is when I notice the weight of her systematic clothes; I can feel it myself- a heavy strain pulling at my chest from the inside. The aforementioned clock now appears bound to her fingertips.

I watch her for a while, unable to peel my eyes away. Her eyelashes blink with every 'tick' of the clock. She stares frozen at the corner of the room, to my left.

I realise that my legs had started to move when I hear the creak of my knees. How long had I been watching this lonely girl for? They click when I've knelt down to the floor; even from this height, I'm taller than she.

Our glossy eyes lock when she says "You are my author and I need you to write me a life"- in a voice smaller than a whisper. Mooneyes are a complete contrast against the skin drained of colour.

I stand tall from my crouch and, after a short pause, say: "I promise you I will give you the life you crave. But I can only take you so far. I can travel with you on your journey but then........ it's up to you" 
With this, I smile and stroll backwards. My glasses are pushed back up to their rightful place and I can see a glimmer of life back in her cheeks.