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Zadown

40ish word landscapes II

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I drift to wakefulness in the dark, dreams escaping from between my fingers as too fine sand. Visions seemingly profound, critical, now all gone. Mental shrug as always and they are forgotten, light grasping my attention, pulling me to a window. The few trees on a nearby hill all black, dawn blazing behind them.

 

Gravel crunches under my ancient shoes (they'd deserve retirement), a new sound every spring, half-forgotten. Sun dominates the sky again and actually warms me through my clothes. Full set of denim, all black to soak the warmth will suffice soon again. I smile and lengthen my step.

 

Sun almost set, somewhere behind all the trees - I can feel it. World is drenched in shades of blue, a color you'll never see in the warmer lands, south. The forest breathes in and out all around me, ready for my magic. I tug my skinning knife free from it's sheath.

 

Sixty tons of metal shift under me, take a ponderous step. Distant heat of the fusion generator, pleasant smell of oil ... and the sense of power, never fading. Sensors do my work for me as I guide the rusty giant through the dark - dusk both for the day and mankind.

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Rune stumbles up to Zadown and indicates that she wants to tell em somethin, but he is alittle to tall for her to reach. He drops down to her height and she whispers in his ear "That was bloody brilliant!" before skipping back out of the room towards the kitchen in search of more gummis.

 

Your ability to describe the elements around you (even when they are imaginary) amazes me Zadown. It is almost as though I can see every waking detail of what you were describing and the picture is so complete I can even fill in insignificant details with precision.

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Thank you, Rune. :)

 

Oh, and feel free to add yer own 40ish word pictures on this thread - just checked the original one and some of the replies I got then were beautiful. Using so few words gives them a kind of sharper focus, makes ye taste, touch, smell and see every one of 'em better...

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I think the fact that you used so few words and forced yourself to concentrate on general objects but still managed to give such a deep and intense feeling to everything (including the air) is what made it so good.

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some quickies...

 

 

A tearing buzz blossoms through the foggy darkness. Fumbling, I search for the offending clock and finally shut it off. I lay there, my arm stretched out onto the nightstand, my face buried in the pillow, my mind dipping a toe into the morning and gingerly cringing from the coldness, for several minutes.

 

 

 

I froze with a dawning start. All the struggle, all the pain, all the years of hoping and dreaming drained from my mind just like the blood from my face. My left eye gave a single twitch as I looked in the mirror and wondered just who in the hell was the man staring back at me.

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Zadown,

 

Such cameos are lovely. I always enjoy reading your work, but these are particularly well-observed.

 

Thank you,

 

C. :)

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Walking through the shimmering portal from the Tower was like pushing through icy jello. The contrasting blast of heat from the other side was a welcome contrast.

 

Picking his way lithely through the rust-red clinker-top lava, he ducked under the obsidian flow arch. A chill rose from the icy trickle which ran along the gully.

 

A fold in the flow to his right. Stepping into the shadowy crack, he followed it to its unexpected depth, masked by the nearly 120 turn a few steps in.

 

Twisting down into the heat of the ground he stepped into Dante's Lair, the bubbling mud pools alternating with black-flecked lava near the wall. The reddish-yellow bathed the scene as the smell of sulfur filled the air.

 

Stepping off the ledge, it was only a short drop before he hit.

 

The icy jello feeling was a pleasant relief from the heat. Stepping through the shimmering portal, he stepped out into the Cabaret.

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Animal crackers ALL OVER the only clean sheets in the house--she'd rumpled them up too, thrown them down on the floor--but when I scrunched up my face to scold her, suddenly the entire zoo was plain to see.

 

I wanted to remember my best friend, the one who taught me that neither time nor appearance could dim a woman's mind, but was thwarted by her distorted and sluggish body and that other reminder clinging to her shapeless jumper.

 

It's raining. Ants scurry to repair their collapsing anthill. The ants can't tell that each drop is salty. They don't care that their tunnels are ruined by the tears of a procession which bears their dead king on its shoulders.

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I shudder suddenly, violently, strained to my limits. The weight of all the stone above me crushes my spirit, distracts me as I try to navigate the slippery slope (caustic blood eating away the soles of my beautiful elven boots - reason enough to cringe!). Underground darkness, stark and unyielding without stars to guide me. We elves weren't meant to hunt here!

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Click goes the door and blocks my way: sturdy piece of reinforced wood, crafted with care, worn with time, radiating faintly the heat stored into it's dark surface by the sun earlier today. I breathe deeply in and feel everything, sense everything. Brighter grains of sand glittering in the sun - delicate wind touching my face - a flowery scent flowing from the direction of the baths - silk robes around me as a second skin. World expans and time stumbles, falls to a halt. In that frozen moment I can see the runes of my art glowing white in the cerulean sky above through the canopy above me. Glyphs of creation, the words the gods themself used, so potent one does not have to even say them aloud for them to impose their will upon reality - they are formed, linked, bent by my will.

 

I point at the door.

 

Time speeds up again, towards an explosion.

 

ooc: So it wasn't 40ish words, so sue me...

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