C.L. Deslongchamp
Bio
I am a freelance writer, poet, and artist. Author of Because I feel deeply, Poetry and Writings by Girls who Felt Deeply and Leader Great and Strong.
Instagram:c.l.deslongchamp
Stories (9/0)
Sheer organza sleeves
How did I get here? Trapped underwater. Struggling to survive. The pressure was rapidly building in my lungs. I pushed toward the surface, in the direction of the purple lightning. The distance between myself and the top seemed to be getting further away as my strength rapidly depleted in my attempt to escape this watery grave. Forcefully pushing the water down to gain leverage created a barrage of bubbles and pieces of lumber from the disjointing ship began falling into the water around me adding to the chaotic state of the stormy water. I could not see through the dark sea which led to even more panic inside my bursting chest. I knew I needed to survive but that felt like an impossible task. I began to give into my inevitable fate and lifelessly floated in the darkness. Except there was a light coming from above that was not the striking of the purple lightning. The sky was lighting up, and above me I could see her. The girl that had jumped with me, motioning for me to come toward her, to keep on fighting. I pushed the water down again and again until I reached the top. The surface was only an inch thick but still more than I could break from below. I banged on the ice that was holding me hostage with my fists and the girl on the other side was slamming her foot downward attempting to crack the shell. Fear penetrated my body as the chill from the frigid water slowly crept up my legs and directly through my chest. I screamed for help, expelling the remainder of my oxygen reserves. The bubbles in the water lifted my body and pressed me directly against the ice as I went limp. I heard the crack and several voices shouting in panic just before I blacked out.
By C.L. Deslongchamp 3 years ago in Fiction
Bon Voyage
I sat alone in the comfy corner chair. It was plush and soft with a slight recline, plush fabric, and the smell of home. I always loved this chair. I watched my relatives, neighbors, and people I’ve never even met, pile unseemly amounts of food on their plates. I hated being surrounded by my family, but it was surprisingly comforting this time, despite the strangers that staggered through the house on my behalf. My mother sat with her sister on the couch across the room, holding hands in silence. Little ones ran through the living area, not paying much attention to who they ran into or whose feet they got under. This always made me chuckle, how oblivious children could be. I missed being that self-involved. People stood in a circle having conversations on the other end of the room.
By C.L. Deslongchamp 3 years ago in Fiction
Out of the Frying Pan
People ran frantically down the street. Tripping over each other, screaming, pushing, and desperately looking over shoulders. They looked at me in confusion as they ran past me, and I stared blankly in the direction they were running from. Other than the glance they each gave me, no one stopped to inquire, in detail, as to why I was just standing in the middle of the street. To be honest, I wouldn’t have been able to answer that question, even if someone did stop to ask. Why was I in the middle of all this madness? Where was I? How did I get here and what is everyone running from?
By C.L. Deslongchamp 3 years ago in Fiction
Birthright
Nineteen. That is the number of months since I opened that silly box. The one that had taunted my existence for years on top of my grandmother’s shelf. Promises of adventure and excitement made my heart burst out of my chest with anticipation. I should have known. Nothing exciting ever happens to me! I thought about it often. The way I felt when I opened the box, the way I expected to feel as it magically changed my life.
By C.L. Deslongchamp 3 years ago in Fiction
Fast Forward
The precision of the fold was uncanny. Every corner came to a sharp point, every edge matched up perfectly to the adjacent one, every detail meticulously cared for and doted over. So much time was spent on the details of the wrapping. It was perfect! Oddly, with the care taken to obsessively ensure that the wrapping was pristine, the twine was carelessly wrapped around. First in a horizontal fashion and vertically, with the thread crossing itself on the bottom and hastily tied into a sloppy, uneven bow on the top. There was a layer of dust covering it. It had been sitting on that shelf for quite some time, untouched, unopened. I imagined lifting it off the shelf to reveal a diagonal facing rectangle shape where it had blocked the dust from the shelf. I wanted to blow the layer of dust off the top and examine the package more closely, but every time I would reach out to touch it, I was denied with a swift whack to my hand.
By C.L. Deslongchamp 3 years ago in Fiction
