I feel I have regressed with this writing prompt. So much so that I almost trashed my completed page and started afresh. I will say this, I am enjoying the new Lamy and Parker rollerball pens I just bought. These are the only two true rollerball pens I have and I find them to be a nice median between ballpoint pens and fountain pens. Below is the writing prompt and my completed excerpt.
A tingling long-lost sense of pleasure often came across me during this
journey. Some turn in the road, some new object suddenly perceived and
recognized, reminded me of days gone by, and were associated with the
lighthearted gaiety of boyhood. The very winds whispered in soothing
accents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more. Then again the
kindly influence ceased to act–I found myself fettered again to grief
and indulging in all the misery of reflection. Then I spurred on my
animal, striving so to forget the world, my fears, and more than all,
myself–or, in a more desperate fashion, I alighted and threw myself on
the grass, weighed down by horror and despair.
At length I arrived at the village of Chamounix. Exhaustion succeeded
to the extreme fatigue both of body and of mind which I had endured.
For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid
lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of
the Arve, which pursued its noisy way beneath. The same lulling sounds
acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head
upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed
the giver of oblivion.