Exercise 2 - Narrative poetry

Hello everyone,

Here goes the first draft of the second exercise! (Please, take into consideration that English is not my native language).



The air was sharp when I met Claire under the Christmas lights. Still not used to the cold, I was covered in layers while looking for a prom dress – was the perfect prom dress the true proof of friendship? Outside were the hot wine sellers, the bikes stumbling through the night, the distant lights of the ice-skating fuzz. The dresses were too expensive, the music was too loud, but despite the fact of everything being too much, we fitted there, showing off the celebration of our friendship, surrounded by silk and naïve expectations of our futures.


The night took us to the restaurant in which we would celebrate our friendship. Happy to have found each other, to protect each other against the enterprise that ate us, against the city that ate us. We were light, we said we were lighter than the bubbles of the wine. It was after all the best tarte flambée of the city, wasn’t it? Our phones rang while we were drinking wine, of course we ignored them, no need to interrupt this softness. Phones kept ringing and ringing, no more place for toasting, where were we? Where was the terrorist? Doors were closed, lights were lowered. We were told he started shooting while we were leaving the city centre carrying Claire’s shiny prom dress. Was this the true proof of friendship? Outside there was no one, only the cats wandering in the frozen night.



Was anyone looking from their windows, their curtains just opened a little bit? Did they see us leave the restaurant and cross the street? The whole city was holding its breath, the silence only broken by the helicopters invading the air. Did the helicopters see us hiding next to the Spanish bar, hiding again between two trash cans? We turned the corner and heard a noise, saw a shadow walking, coming from the city centre. Did he hear the strength of our heartbeats? We ran towards Claire’s cousin’s front door, wine in our blood, the dress in Claire’s backpack. We then shared a bed, felt exhausted by fear, by alcohol. We were safe, we told each other; we were safe, we told our families. Was this the true proof of our friendship ending?