Bigsy
December 29th, 2007, 10:35 AM
It's become somewhat a tradition that I spam up the place with a few of my scrawls. From the best of my knowledge, there's no rule about having a topic which covers general fiction rather than writing a epic novel about a hedgehog. Yeah. I'm quite aware that these might be terrible, but I'm going to post them anyway. Constructive criticism and help; the usual. Let's go shall we?
Glass
The sunlight skidded across the flat waters, bouncing off the trees that leant over the banks of the lake. The leaves of the trees swayed in a faint, silent breeze, that rocked the lesser bushed, and made the flowers dance. The sun seemed to smile over the scene, with a delirious mood illuminating the lake's beauty. The whole setting shone like a mirror, reflecting the sun's awesome gift. The shadows of the vibrant green leaves were black.
The water was like glass- like a secret little window into a simpler time. Through it, it was quite possible to see the fish jet around with unsurpassale ease, or the aquatic plants move gently with the currents. At the water's edge, birds sat with a wonderful nonchalance, with their beaks slipping into the water, as if they were too admiring the setting.
The trees a few steps back from the bank formed an intricate canopy. Sunlight peppered through the gaps in the quilt, leaving brilliant, glorious pockets of light on the ground. These patches of light gave a transcendent, ethereal feel.
The girl half-smiled as she drowned her toes in the depths. She hurled a rough stone across the waters, now churning. This missile ripped through the tranquility like a sword, like a bullet, like a bomb. The rock skimmed across the lake's surface, making obscene splashes on the lake's unblemished face. The gaps between the stone's splashes were equidistant- as if they were calculated with unnerving accuracy.
The sores of light grew smaller before they vanished entirely. The girl looked up, realising the sun had vanished, and had been replaced with a grey, smoggy cloud. The girl realised a little too late. She was soaked through. She began to cry.
She'd ruined it. Even glass breaks sometime.
It's prety much about... Well, figure it out. I can't be bothered to go into it to much. And the line at the end of the first paragraph is supposed to foreshadow.
What a waste of time that was.
Glass
The sunlight skidded across the flat waters, bouncing off the trees that leant over the banks of the lake. The leaves of the trees swayed in a faint, silent breeze, that rocked the lesser bushed, and made the flowers dance. The sun seemed to smile over the scene, with a delirious mood illuminating the lake's beauty. The whole setting shone like a mirror, reflecting the sun's awesome gift. The shadows of the vibrant green leaves were black.
The water was like glass- like a secret little window into a simpler time. Through it, it was quite possible to see the fish jet around with unsurpassale ease, or the aquatic plants move gently with the currents. At the water's edge, birds sat with a wonderful nonchalance, with their beaks slipping into the water, as if they were too admiring the setting.
The trees a few steps back from the bank formed an intricate canopy. Sunlight peppered through the gaps in the quilt, leaving brilliant, glorious pockets of light on the ground. These patches of light gave a transcendent, ethereal feel.
The girl half-smiled as she drowned her toes in the depths. She hurled a rough stone across the waters, now churning. This missile ripped through the tranquility like a sword, like a bullet, like a bomb. The rock skimmed across the lake's surface, making obscene splashes on the lake's unblemished face. The gaps between the stone's splashes were equidistant- as if they were calculated with unnerving accuracy.
The sores of light grew smaller before they vanished entirely. The girl looked up, realising the sun had vanished, and had been replaced with a grey, smoggy cloud. The girl realised a little too late. She was soaked through. She began to cry.
She'd ruined it. Even glass breaks sometime.
It's prety much about... Well, figure it out. I can't be bothered to go into it to much. And the line at the end of the first paragraph is supposed to foreshadow.
What a waste of time that was.