by joe_canadian » 5/6/2004, 1:45 pm
Short things from my Writer's Craft course. Pretty cliche but some bits I like. Again, I'd love criticism.
Quiet
There’s a TV in the back of my head that’s always stuck on snow. Always. Perpetually.
Except for once.
Once the lights went out and the static fell away. Not for the reasons you might think – no bad electricity in my brain. I found someone, or, rather, she found me in the hissing, flickering dark. She quieted me, she pulled the plug. For that brief standstill in time there was nothing. The world blinked away with the power and I saw nothing, felt nothing, and was nothing. I ceased to be in a kiss. I did not exist – there was only a wonderful void that slyly eluded definition, hiding forever in soft lips and warm hair.
It is only after, when the noise and glare returned, that I realized that it was the most beautiful moment of my life.
What If
What if these woods aren’t just woods?
I see trees: pillars humming with memory. They are soaked in the green of countless algae, mosses, vines, other trees. A cacophony of life blocking out sun and sky. They stink of history, of stories waiting to be told – what do they have to tell? How many scores of years have washed over these old towers? What have they seen?
My heart tells me, “Much.” And they sway tiredly. Much: battles and storms and fires and droughts and northern lights and southern winds and secret places and comings and goings of beasts and people and things I cannot imagine. Rivers that swell and tickle their sides. Smoke that chokes them and acid that falls from the sky. Stories to fill volumes of scraps of their skin – stories to be whispered and sang aloud.
But only a few of people who stopped to listen.
Last edited by
joe_canadian on 5/6/2004, 5:03 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Just because I am sexy, naked, a bassist, and sporting a top hat doesn't make me Duncan Coutts!