Piece of original fiction
Jan. 26th, 2005 12:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
exsequarSo my friend says to me online, while my away message is up, "Don't come back until you've written something." With all this arm twisting, how could I resist? He likes to keep me sharp by making me write something, ANYTHING, every now and then. It's also exploitation, because they're mostly for his reading pleasure. But I'm not going to file charges or anything, cause usually what results is something I can be reasonably proud of. That's the background story of this piece. It really has no context, no greater meaning, nothing... it's up to the reader. Even I have no idea what it's about! But I would be infinitely grateful if someone would read it, and tell me what you think. And if you like this, I posted another piece of original fic (less obscure, more with the plot) a few weeks ago, so I'd love if you could read that too. Constructive Criticism always welcome!
Another Step
The ground beneath her bare feet crackled and shifted drily. Relentless, soporific sunlight beat down on the crown of her head until her temples felt like they were going to burst. All around her, for miles and miles, stretched a golden plain of grass, shifting imperceptibly and giving the illusion of a gently undulating liquid surface. It would have been beautiful if not for the pervading sense of desolation, of utter abandonment. A vague scent of decay rode the heavy summer air, causing her nose to wrinkle slightly in disgust.
Must do something. Something. Move? Yes, move. But where? The question was a puzzler, because from what her slightly blurry vision told her, there was nothing on the horizon to give her any sort of goal or direction. For a few minutes (or maybe an hour, or maybe two seconds) she just stood and stared. Her slightly fried brain ground slowly through her options. Gradually, one became coherent.
Turn around? The message traveled slowly down her spine and eventually her feet did their bidding. Her vision, fixed straight ahead, slid slowly along the line between ground and sky until suddenly it stopped. An anomaly. A large, disconcerting anomaly. She squinted slightly and it came into focus.
Yes, she wasn’t hallucinating. Or maybe she was, but it was a very concrete and unwavering hallucination. Another few moments for her poor, shock-numbed mind to grasp the idea, and she took a faltering step forward. Then another. Another, and another, until her stride widened into a firm walk. As her momentum built, so did her determination, and she broke into a full run. Her long skirts brushed against the tall, golden stems surrounding her on every side. Swish, swish, swish. The sound built upon the barely audible background noise of millions of stalks brushing against each other. It was as though the plants were whispering amongst themselves, malevolently plotting to get rid of this disturbance.
These perceptions flitted dimly across her consciousness, barely acknowledged. She ran. She did not feel the jagged edges of the broken stalks as they scraped the soft skin of her feet. Her footprints glistened crimson in her wake, marking her trail of small scale destruction. The wind picked up slightly, and the whispering sound became more pronounced, surrounding her, suffocating her. But she ignored it, firmly intent on her goal. Neither pain, nor worry, nor doubt penetrated her consciousness. To a large extent, her mental facilities were frozen, unable to cope with this bewildering sequence of events. For now, she was satisfied to just run.
Her eyes locked on her goal, she didn’t notice as it imperceptibly grew larger and larger. The sun hung directly above the aberration, a strange coincidence that her exhausted mind didn’t bother to register. Until, that is, she flew into the structure’s shadow. She skidded to a startled halt.
The abrupt change of atmosphere shocked her tired eyes. Even though it was still quite light, she blinked a few times as her pupils dilated to compensate. A vague sense of pain penetrated her conscious, a full body ache supplemented by sharp twinges from the soles of her feet. Looking down curiously, she saw the blood between her toes, trickling in thin lines from where her feet rested. A slight, detached frown crinkled the skin of her forehead. Then, just as quietly, the frown faded from her features.
Catharsis. The word was whispered to her from that deep place where her analytical mind was locked. It was a big word, confusing and all too complex for the circumstances. But the beautiful pain she was feeling, its purity, made the word fit somehow. As each drop of blood came forth, she lost a piece of herself, and at that moment that was all she wanted. To lose that temporarily crushed self, struggling to get out. With that self came too much memory, too many burdens, and she just wanted this, the purity of pain and dark and escape.
She lifted her eyes once more to her salvation. Its perfection was almost too good to believe. Once again, she started to run, no temporary hesitation holding her back. Everything was suddenly perfectly clear, and she ran faster, ever faster, this time the pain shooting up her legs with every jarring step. She reveled in it. The golden grass whispered and whispered.
And then suddenly she was there, standing at its base. Ominous and beautiful, it loomed high above her, dwarfing her in its shadow. The sun was completely occluded, and she felt almost cool. A shiver wracked her slim figure, and she took in a deep, steadying breath. Then, a step forward. As before, one foot after the other, no longer in a hurry. She approached the black doorway, slowly, peacefully. Above her stretched a rounded white tower, unmarred except here, at its base, by one means of entrance. But she knew she had to enter. The decision had been made for her long ago.
She passed through the dark opening and was greeted by blackness. The light entering behind her seemed to be swallowed and suppressed ruthlessly by the presence of this place. She could just make out a first step and, without hesitation, took it. Then the next. And the next.
Upward she climbed, the stairway curving up and away before her, any sense of time disappearing. The steps beneath her blood-slick feet were cold and hard, rough and dusty. Gradually, the blood clotted and pain faded away, like everything else. Nothing passed through her mind except a driving desire to continue.
After an age, her eyes perceived a slight change in the darkness. Her step quickened, and slowly the light increased as she went up and up, around and around. It grew brighter and brighter until, abruptly, she turned the last corner, mounted the last step, and was blinded by the sun streaming directly through a tall, rectangular window. Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes shut and threw up her hands to ward off the painful light.
She remained that way for a moment or two, letting her eyes become accustomed. Then, slowly, she lowered her hands and opened her eyes, fixing her gaze on the floor before the window. Her heart began to slow, its pace having quickened both from the climb up the stairs and the sudden shock of the light.
Her composure regained, her purpose once again overcame her. A step towards the window. Eyes still on the floor. One more step. And another. Her feet left faint outlines in the dust, a memory of her transient presence in this inviolate sanctuary. In time, dust would come again, but the blood of her passage was imprinted on the cold steps below, a silent, permanent testament to her pain.
She did not stop at the window, but lifted a foot and placed it on the sill. A pause, closing her eyes, and then she lifted herself up and both feet stood on the window sill. Her head just grazed the top of the window. It was as if the opening had been measured and built for her.
Eyes still closed, she lifted her face to meet the sun. Its warm, fierce light beat down on her, her eyes seeing a blend of gold and crimson through their lids. She opened her eyes, and did not flinch.
Another step.
Another Step
The ground beneath her bare feet crackled and shifted drily. Relentless, soporific sunlight beat down on the crown of her head until her temples felt like they were going to burst. All around her, for miles and miles, stretched a golden plain of grass, shifting imperceptibly and giving the illusion of a gently undulating liquid surface. It would have been beautiful if not for the pervading sense of desolation, of utter abandonment. A vague scent of decay rode the heavy summer air, causing her nose to wrinkle slightly in disgust.
Must do something. Something. Move? Yes, move. But where? The question was a puzzler, because from what her slightly blurry vision told her, there was nothing on the horizon to give her any sort of goal or direction. For a few minutes (or maybe an hour, or maybe two seconds) she just stood and stared. Her slightly fried brain ground slowly through her options. Gradually, one became coherent.
Turn around? The message traveled slowly down her spine and eventually her feet did their bidding. Her vision, fixed straight ahead, slid slowly along the line between ground and sky until suddenly it stopped. An anomaly. A large, disconcerting anomaly. She squinted slightly and it came into focus.
Yes, she wasn’t hallucinating. Or maybe she was, but it was a very concrete and unwavering hallucination. Another few moments for her poor, shock-numbed mind to grasp the idea, and she took a faltering step forward. Then another. Another, and another, until her stride widened into a firm walk. As her momentum built, so did her determination, and she broke into a full run. Her long skirts brushed against the tall, golden stems surrounding her on every side. Swish, swish, swish. The sound built upon the barely audible background noise of millions of stalks brushing against each other. It was as though the plants were whispering amongst themselves, malevolently plotting to get rid of this disturbance.
These perceptions flitted dimly across her consciousness, barely acknowledged. She ran. She did not feel the jagged edges of the broken stalks as they scraped the soft skin of her feet. Her footprints glistened crimson in her wake, marking her trail of small scale destruction. The wind picked up slightly, and the whispering sound became more pronounced, surrounding her, suffocating her. But she ignored it, firmly intent on her goal. Neither pain, nor worry, nor doubt penetrated her consciousness. To a large extent, her mental facilities were frozen, unable to cope with this bewildering sequence of events. For now, she was satisfied to just run.
Her eyes locked on her goal, she didn’t notice as it imperceptibly grew larger and larger. The sun hung directly above the aberration, a strange coincidence that her exhausted mind didn’t bother to register. Until, that is, she flew into the structure’s shadow. She skidded to a startled halt.
The abrupt change of atmosphere shocked her tired eyes. Even though it was still quite light, she blinked a few times as her pupils dilated to compensate. A vague sense of pain penetrated her conscious, a full body ache supplemented by sharp twinges from the soles of her feet. Looking down curiously, she saw the blood between her toes, trickling in thin lines from where her feet rested. A slight, detached frown crinkled the skin of her forehead. Then, just as quietly, the frown faded from her features.
Catharsis. The word was whispered to her from that deep place where her analytical mind was locked. It was a big word, confusing and all too complex for the circumstances. But the beautiful pain she was feeling, its purity, made the word fit somehow. As each drop of blood came forth, she lost a piece of herself, and at that moment that was all she wanted. To lose that temporarily crushed self, struggling to get out. With that self came too much memory, too many burdens, and she just wanted this, the purity of pain and dark and escape.
She lifted her eyes once more to her salvation. Its perfection was almost too good to believe. Once again, she started to run, no temporary hesitation holding her back. Everything was suddenly perfectly clear, and she ran faster, ever faster, this time the pain shooting up her legs with every jarring step. She reveled in it. The golden grass whispered and whispered.
And then suddenly she was there, standing at its base. Ominous and beautiful, it loomed high above her, dwarfing her in its shadow. The sun was completely occluded, and she felt almost cool. A shiver wracked her slim figure, and she took in a deep, steadying breath. Then, a step forward. As before, one foot after the other, no longer in a hurry. She approached the black doorway, slowly, peacefully. Above her stretched a rounded white tower, unmarred except here, at its base, by one means of entrance. But she knew she had to enter. The decision had been made for her long ago.
She passed through the dark opening and was greeted by blackness. The light entering behind her seemed to be swallowed and suppressed ruthlessly by the presence of this place. She could just make out a first step and, without hesitation, took it. Then the next. And the next.
Upward she climbed, the stairway curving up and away before her, any sense of time disappearing. The steps beneath her blood-slick feet were cold and hard, rough and dusty. Gradually, the blood clotted and pain faded away, like everything else. Nothing passed through her mind except a driving desire to continue.
After an age, her eyes perceived a slight change in the darkness. Her step quickened, and slowly the light increased as she went up and up, around and around. It grew brighter and brighter until, abruptly, she turned the last corner, mounted the last step, and was blinded by the sun streaming directly through a tall, rectangular window. Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes shut and threw up her hands to ward off the painful light.
She remained that way for a moment or two, letting her eyes become accustomed. Then, slowly, she lowered her hands and opened her eyes, fixing her gaze on the floor before the window. Her heart began to slow, its pace having quickened both from the climb up the stairs and the sudden shock of the light.
Her composure regained, her purpose once again overcame her. A step towards the window. Eyes still on the floor. One more step. And another. Her feet left faint outlines in the dust, a memory of her transient presence in this inviolate sanctuary. In time, dust would come again, but the blood of her passage was imprinted on the cold steps below, a silent, permanent testament to her pain.
She did not stop at the window, but lifted a foot and placed it on the sill. A pause, closing her eyes, and then she lifted herself up and both feet stood on the window sill. Her head just grazed the top of the window. It was as if the opening had been measured and built for her.
Eyes still closed, she lifted her face to meet the sun. Its warm, fierce light beat down on her, her eyes seeing a blend of gold and crimson through their lids. She opened her eyes, and did not flinch.
Another step.
