Wow, 7 months since “Perdition” got posted. Sorry for not posting anything!
I’ve got something big coming up, don’t worry, but I haven’t been idle in the meantime. School’s only getting more and more time consuming, and I was part of a show that was performed in March, which went great but sucked up a lot of my time. I started writing something quite long and Lovecraft-ey, but halfway through I decided it was getting a bit rubbish and long. I may revisit it though during the summer.
In the meantime, though, I do have a lil bit of writing to share with you all. Recently, I’ve taken up a habit of, when board, trying to sketch something on a post it note (I am not a good artist) and then describing what it’s meant to be on the back. In my case, a picture paints a thousand words is most certainly not the case, so its actually pretty fun to blow off some steam thinking about and describing this sorta stuff.
So this was kinda the location where the war story I was writing was set. The description on the back, like this:
“Birds wheeled lazily over the ruined bridge. Below it, a steep gorge coursed, its river flowing into the great delta that met the sea. As the birds shrieked, the sun rose, its think salmon rays penetrating the morning haze and reflecting up into the skies above the dark, heavily wooded mountains. Clouds flowed and melted around the saw toothed peaks, and a hawk cried lonesomely.
(By the by, I’ve ordered these from worst to best, so stick with it- there’s some drawings which I actually think are pretty OK by my standards at the end c:)
“The hawk cruised lazily over the plains, wind ruffling its hazel feathers. It screeched quietly, calmly asserting its authority over the beasts of the field. It was serene and kingly here, undisputed champion of all it could see beneath it. Life was good.”
“A blinding sun seared the hot white sand of the coast, the light glaring into the deep blue skies. The wide, oceanic waves from far into the sea broke upon the shore, a desert sirocco whipping up spray that dotted the bloated corpse of the ship. It was an alien on the hostile sands, lost cargo surrounding it like the discarded shells of hermit crabs. A sand dune entombed it, an anchor that weighed it down.”
“The tree was dead, and it had been for a long time. A stray wind must have carried its seed over the high, snow-capped mountains that kept the plains arid. The lush forestry across that barrier were not to be found here, and the pool that had nurtured the tree had become baked, cracked under the hostile sun. A goat crawled along a path carved into the mountains, alone on the spine of the world.”
“The road disappeared over the horizon a little ways away, powering towards the forested domes of the mountains. A cluster of buildings clutched onto the edge of the empty highway; a ramshackle house or two, a run-down diner, a church. Asides from the lazy flies that buzzed in the midsummer haze, not a soul could be seen. Outside the petrol station, the attendant’s chair was abandoned, fag ends and empty lager cans surrounding it, flotsam after a storm. A lone car stopped, its occupant getting out and knocking on the church door, guilt stricken. It was locked.”
“The dense urban sprawl of the city could barely be seen from the shoreline. The gaudy hotels for the rich and the foreign, clambering and fighting for the right to claim an “ocean view” or a “seaside location”, saw to that. For the glistening bodies and ignorant minds that frolicked on the beach, the biggest problem they faced was a sun-burnt bald spot, or the encroaching thunder clouds kept at bay for now by the forested slopes. For them it was all too easy to overlook the sin and corruption, the drugs and the poverty. They could blindly watch as the last great rain forest was torn asunder. ‘Oh well’, they would say. ‘At least we got some nice souvenirs.'”
“High above the city, a ruined church lay sundered. It’s once proud steeple fallen low, only held up by the rubble below it. On clear evenings, the last copper rays of the sun would slip through, scalding the dense, religious city in accusatory light. On still nights, a frost would form, and in the morning a sugarplum coating would persist on the pews and pedestals long into the chill winter afternoons. Graves clustered, macabre inheritors of the city’s population.”
“Dark, cold figures huddled around the fire. Damnably primitive, they knew not who had built the monoliths, for they were weathered long before the human form was even conceived. They knew not also from whence the fierce fires spewed or the choking smoke rolled, for it was lit with sparks older still than the pillars. On lonely, foggy nights where the wind howled across the hills, men would look at the softly glowing glyphs and whisper. They feared.”
(Alright, this is my absolute favourite- it reminds me of Call of Cthulhu c:)
“The reef was pungent, a dark volcanic spur thrust through the skin of the ocean. The waters around it steamed and boiled, toxic gases drifting lackluster in the cooling ocean breeze. Thin cirrus clouds danced in the trade winds below the high sun, parodying the steaming pillars of smoke that rose from the geological anomaly. Life abhorred the island, its skies absent of wheeling gulls and hills bare of creeping lichen.”
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