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The crystal kingdom sparkled brightly in the lucid-radiant sun; the mountain shone like polished ivory in the crystalline air. At the summit, where all was hushed there was a revelation of the surrounding splendour. The air tasted clean, the delicate wind greeted my body, like water does to a fish. I was at the top of this, overlooking the timid-beauty land. It was shy to show off its glorious assets. It felt like I was the only one who had seen this.
I ventured up further, the frosty trees guided me; there were no trails, no evidence of a human intrusion - even the snow was unbroken and crisp. I felt intrusive breaking the snow, but I enjoyed the subtle crunchy sound that presented itself with every step I took. Using my ski poles as walking sticks, I struggled to overcome the knee-deep snow. All around me was white and I noticed the bright-sugary coating that glazed the bark and reflected the surrounding trees. I reached the peak. Then I saw them. A group of animals, 50 metres or so away. I could not make out much from here; they were dark grey and white. I dared to go closer, cautiously keeping one eye on them at all times, the other navigating through the entangled path of branches. I saw a ledge close to where they were and decided to observe from there. As I reached the ledge, their identities were revealed. Wolves. Five of them, all were fighting over the unlucky goat that stumbled into their path. Under the pearly canopy it wasn’t obvious what was going on. I looked again to check that my eyes were not deceiving me.
They weren’t.
One of the wolves moved, revealing a large area of red snow and what looked like the remains of a goat. While the wolves relentlessly tore at the carcass, snapping bone like bread sticks, they failed to realise something. Another creature no higher than fifteen centimetres was unfortunate enough to stumble into the wolves’ kitchen. The bird hadn’t been noticed, but it was clear it was distressed. One of the wolves looked up from its meal. The bird shot up, trying to break free, but the thick canopy denied its escape. Struggling, it finally found a path through the thick leaf ceiling, out of the kitchen, free again.
Following the bird’s example, I left.
Looking down from the top, I noticed something that did not fit the pattern: an anomaly. What I saw was an invasion of privacy. I picked up my ski poles and made for the bottom; I had to comprehend why the building was there. I could hear the trees as I descended from the summit, producing only what sounds trees made; the melody of wind on the leaves and the ring of manacled ice falling from the evergreen branches, accompanied by the ‘swish’ of skis-on-snow, soothing my ears – the perfect ensemble. Then we saw it; square like a box, people scurrying, this way and that - all pushing as if what they wanted was a matter of life or death.
The fast food outlet had a tainted aurora about it as I walked up to the entrance. I turned to take one last look at the natural world to keep me company inside.
As soon as I entered, I was under attack. My ears were saturated with muffled voices, my nose with a stench that urges the stomach to dispatch its contents and my eyes flooded with the horror of those poor people. Blinded by the deceptive amount of food, they kept going back for more. Some so young, and others so old. I sat down edgily, looking from face to face to examine their expressions. They were all oblivious to the fact that they were slowly killing themselves with every bite they took.
I noticed one young boy about 9 years old, curly blonde hair. He was wearing blue and yellow clothes, underneath his thick coat. He was happily eating away at his yellow fries, whilst playing with the plastic toy he got with his meal. A man approached, wiping the boy’s table of the debris that had gathered sticky drink stains caked in dust, wet serviettes and left over food that coated it. He was a short, scrawny looking man, in his early twenties. His greasy hair was almost masked by the filthy baseball cap he wore. His expression was a contrasting picture of the boy’s. Outside it began to rain. The picture of the natural world was rapidly fading inside my head. His name badge read Bobby. It also had two gold stars underneath, with “Happy to help”, written in bright red letters, which stood out against the light blue background. These stars were on everyone else’s shirt that worked there, measuring their rank. One being the lowest, five the highest. The five stars’ parade around with a false expression of pride, like a schoolboy who aced a test he cheated in. They’re only fooling themselves.
I felt intoxicated by the taste More people swamped in, more noise flooded my ears. I sighted a door, not too far away and headed straight to it, trying to avoid the mass crowd that bruised my shoulders as they barged through. I relentlessly struggled battling against wave upon wave of people. As I reached the wet door handle I felt free. I had escaped the Wolves Kitchen.
----------------------
I wrote this a while back, for a piece of coursework so it's not perfect, but I wanted to enter something, and haven't got a great deal of time. Anyway - I hope you enjoyed it.
I ventured up further, the frosty trees guided me; there were no trails, no evidence of a human intrusion - even the snow was unbroken and crisp. I felt intrusive breaking the snow, but I enjoyed the subtle crunchy sound that presented itself with every step I took. Using my ski poles as walking sticks, I struggled to overcome the knee-deep snow. All around me was white and I noticed the bright-sugary coating that glazed the bark and reflected the surrounding trees. I reached the peak. Then I saw them. A group of animals, 50 metres or so away. I could not make out much from here; they were dark grey and white. I dared to go closer, cautiously keeping one eye on them at all times, the other navigating through the entangled path of branches. I saw a ledge close to where they were and decided to observe from there. As I reached the ledge, their identities were revealed. Wolves. Five of them, all were fighting over the unlucky goat that stumbled into their path. Under the pearly canopy it wasn’t obvious what was going on. I looked again to check that my eyes were not deceiving me.
They weren’t.
One of the wolves moved, revealing a large area of red snow and what looked like the remains of a goat. While the wolves relentlessly tore at the carcass, snapping bone like bread sticks, they failed to realise something. Another creature no higher than fifteen centimetres was unfortunate enough to stumble into the wolves’ kitchen. The bird hadn’t been noticed, but it was clear it was distressed. One of the wolves looked up from its meal. The bird shot up, trying to break free, but the thick canopy denied its escape. Struggling, it finally found a path through the thick leaf ceiling, out of the kitchen, free again.
Following the bird’s example, I left.
Looking down from the top, I noticed something that did not fit the pattern: an anomaly. What I saw was an invasion of privacy. I picked up my ski poles and made for the bottom; I had to comprehend why the building was there. I could hear the trees as I descended from the summit, producing only what sounds trees made; the melody of wind on the leaves and the ring of manacled ice falling from the evergreen branches, accompanied by the ‘swish’ of skis-on-snow, soothing my ears – the perfect ensemble. Then we saw it; square like a box, people scurrying, this way and that - all pushing as if what they wanted was a matter of life or death.
The fast food outlet had a tainted aurora about it as I walked up to the entrance. I turned to take one last look at the natural world to keep me company inside.
As soon as I entered, I was under attack. My ears were saturated with muffled voices, my nose with a stench that urges the stomach to dispatch its contents and my eyes flooded with the horror of those poor people. Blinded by the deceptive amount of food, they kept going back for more. Some so young, and others so old. I sat down edgily, looking from face to face to examine their expressions. They were all oblivious to the fact that they were slowly killing themselves with every bite they took.
I noticed one young boy about 9 years old, curly blonde hair. He was wearing blue and yellow clothes, underneath his thick coat. He was happily eating away at his yellow fries, whilst playing with the plastic toy he got with his meal. A man approached, wiping the boy’s table of the debris that had gathered sticky drink stains caked in dust, wet serviettes and left over food that coated it. He was a short, scrawny looking man, in his early twenties. His greasy hair was almost masked by the filthy baseball cap he wore. His expression was a contrasting picture of the boy’s. Outside it began to rain. The picture of the natural world was rapidly fading inside my head. His name badge read Bobby. It also had two gold stars underneath, with “Happy to help”, written in bright red letters, which stood out against the light blue background. These stars were on everyone else’s shirt that worked there, measuring their rank. One being the lowest, five the highest. The five stars’ parade around with a false expression of pride, like a schoolboy who aced a test he cheated in. They’re only fooling themselves.
I felt intoxicated by the taste More people swamped in, more noise flooded my ears. I sighted a door, not too far away and headed straight to it, trying to avoid the mass crowd that bruised my shoulders as they barged through. I relentlessly struggled battling against wave upon wave of people. As I reached the wet door handle I felt free. I had escaped the Wolves Kitchen.
----------------------
I wrote this a while back, for a piece of coursework so it's not perfect, but I wanted to enter something, and haven't got a great deal of time. Anyway - I hope you enjoyed it.
I can only echo the previous comments - really enjoyed the first part, finding the wolves and spying upon them, but the second part doesn't live up to it. Not that it's in any way poor, but the wolves are far more interesting. Don't know, but perhaps if it was the other way round, leaving the fast food restuarant on the way to the slope, and stumbling upon the wolves on the way down?
Strong writing though.
Strong writing though.
The start was excellent - some fantastic, vivid phrases used, but it seemed to lose it in the middle and I didn't like the ending very much.
You can certainly write though, just the first few lines are simply great.
You can certainly write though, just the first few lines are simply great.
Cheers for the feedback, I'll consider these things in SSC32.
:D
:D
It began well with some atmospheric descriptions, however once the fastfood outlet was introduced I became restless. I can see what you were trying to do - comparing the wolves' natural feast with the human gluttonous one (I think?!), but it didn't quite sit right, even though it had its good moments.
I agree with you, I knew the opening and how I link the wolves, but the middle/end was difficult to convey as I wasn't totally sure to get there. As I said, I wrote it a while back.
I thought the first half of the story was very atmospheric and sinister, and when you mentioned an 'anomaly' it put a bit of a chill through me because I thought you were still talking about the wolves. (I was a bit tired and confused when I read it.) The second half didn't really connect enough with the first. Maybe I was expecting some Animal Farm style action: wolves flipping burgers etc.
Thanks for the feedback, you were right Asher, bout the fast food restaurant.
Good story.
Ah, that was pretty good. Quite gripping to read, and I haven't quite got my head around it due to tiredness lol, but the way it twists and becomes an attack at fast-food restaurants (am I right?) is really interesting. Good read, I enjoyed that.
The crystal kingdom sparkled brightly in the lucid-radiant sun; the mountain shone like polished ivory in the crystalline air. At the summit, where all was hushed there was a revelation of the surrounding splendour. The air tasted clean, the delicate wind greeted my body, like water does to a fish. I was at the top of this, overlooking the timid-beauty land. It was shy to show off its glorious assets. It felt like I was the only one who had seen this.
I ventured up further, the frosty trees guided me; there were no trails, no evidence of a human intrusion - even the snow was unbroken and crisp. I felt intrusive breaking the snow, but I enjoyed the subtle crunchy sound that presented itself with every step I took. Using my ski poles as walking sticks, I struggled to overcome the knee-deep snow. All around me was white and I noticed the bright-sugary coating that glazed the bark and reflected the surrounding trees. I reached the peak. Then I saw them. A group of animals, 50 metres or so away. I could not make out much from here; they were dark grey and white. I dared to go closer, cautiously keeping one eye on them at all times, the other navigating through the entangled path of branches. I saw a ledge close to where they were and decided to observe from there. As I reached the ledge, their identities were revealed. Wolves. Five of them, all were fighting over the unlucky goat that stumbled into their path. Under the pearly canopy it wasn’t obvious what was going on. I looked again to check that my eyes were not deceiving me.
They weren’t.
One of the wolves moved, revealing a large area of red snow and what looked like the remains of a goat. While the wolves relentlessly tore at the carcass, snapping bone like bread sticks, they failed to realise something. Another creature no higher than fifteen centimetres was unfortunate enough to stumble into the wolves’ kitchen. The bird hadn’t been noticed, but it was clear it was distressed. One of the wolves looked up from its meal. The bird shot up, trying to break free, but the thick canopy denied its escape. Struggling, it finally found a path through the thick leaf ceiling, out of the kitchen, free again.
Following the bird’s example, I left.
Looking down from the top, I noticed something that did not fit the pattern: an anomaly. What I saw was an invasion of privacy. I picked up my ski poles and made for the bottom; I had to comprehend why the building was there. I could hear the trees as I descended from the summit, producing only what sounds trees made; the melody of wind on the leaves and the ring of manacled ice falling from the evergreen branches, accompanied by the ‘swish’ of skis-on-snow, soothing my ears – the perfect ensemble. Then we saw it; square like a box, people scurrying, this way and that - all pushing as if what they wanted was a matter of life or death.
The fast food outlet had a tainted aurora about it as I walked up to the entrance. I turned to take one last look at the natural world to keep me company inside.
As soon as I entered, I was under attack. My ears were saturated with muffled voices, my nose with a stench that urges the stomach to dispatch its contents and my eyes flooded with the horror of those poor people. Blinded by the deceptive amount of food, they kept going back for more. Some so young, and others so old. I sat down edgily, looking from face to face to examine their expressions. They were all oblivious to the fact that they were slowly killing themselves with every bite they took.
I noticed one young boy about 9 years old, curly blonde hair. He was wearing blue and yellow clothes, underneath his thick coat. He was happily eating away at his yellow fries, whilst playing with the plastic toy he got with his meal. A man approached, wiping the boy’s table of the debris that had gathered sticky drink stains caked in dust, wet serviettes and left over food that coated it. He was a short, scrawny looking man, in his early twenties. His greasy hair was almost masked by the filthy baseball cap he wore. His expression was a contrasting picture of the boy’s. Outside it began to rain. The picture of the natural world was rapidly fading inside my head. His name badge read Bobby. It also had two gold stars underneath, with “Happy to help”, written in bright red letters, which stood out against the light blue background. These stars were on everyone else’s shirt that worked there, measuring their rank. One being the lowest, five the highest. The five stars’ parade around with a false expression of pride, like a schoolboy who aced a test he cheated in. They’re only fooling themselves.
I felt intoxicated by the taste More people swamped in, more noise flooded my ears. I sighted a door, not too far away and headed straight to it, trying to avoid the mass crowd that bruised my shoulders as they barged through. I relentlessly struggled battling against wave upon wave of people. As I reached the wet door handle I felt free. I had escaped the Wolves Kitchen.
----------------------
I wrote this a while back, for a piece of coursework so it's not perfect, but I wanted to enter something, and haven't got a great deal of time. Anyway - I hope you enjoyed it.
I ventured up further, the frosty trees guided me; there were no trails, no evidence of a human intrusion - even the snow was unbroken and crisp. I felt intrusive breaking the snow, but I enjoyed the subtle crunchy sound that presented itself with every step I took. Using my ski poles as walking sticks, I struggled to overcome the knee-deep snow. All around me was white and I noticed the bright-sugary coating that glazed the bark and reflected the surrounding trees. I reached the peak. Then I saw them. A group of animals, 50 metres or so away. I could not make out much from here; they were dark grey and white. I dared to go closer, cautiously keeping one eye on them at all times, the other navigating through the entangled path of branches. I saw a ledge close to where they were and decided to observe from there. As I reached the ledge, their identities were revealed. Wolves. Five of them, all were fighting over the unlucky goat that stumbled into their path. Under the pearly canopy it wasn’t obvious what was going on. I looked again to check that my eyes were not deceiving me.
They weren’t.
One of the wolves moved, revealing a large area of red snow and what looked like the remains of a goat. While the wolves relentlessly tore at the carcass, snapping bone like bread sticks, they failed to realise something. Another creature no higher than fifteen centimetres was unfortunate enough to stumble into the wolves’ kitchen. The bird hadn’t been noticed, but it was clear it was distressed. One of the wolves looked up from its meal. The bird shot up, trying to break free, but the thick canopy denied its escape. Struggling, it finally found a path through the thick leaf ceiling, out of the kitchen, free again.
Following the bird’s example, I left.
Looking down from the top, I noticed something that did not fit the pattern: an anomaly. What I saw was an invasion of privacy. I picked up my ski poles and made for the bottom; I had to comprehend why the building was there. I could hear the trees as I descended from the summit, producing only what sounds trees made; the melody of wind on the leaves and the ring of manacled ice falling from the evergreen branches, accompanied by the ‘swish’ of skis-on-snow, soothing my ears – the perfect ensemble. Then we saw it; square like a box, people scurrying, this way and that - all pushing as if what they wanted was a matter of life or death.
The fast food outlet had a tainted aurora about it as I walked up to the entrance. I turned to take one last look at the natural world to keep me company inside.
As soon as I entered, I was under attack. My ears were saturated with muffled voices, my nose with a stench that urges the stomach to dispatch its contents and my eyes flooded with the horror of those poor people. Blinded by the deceptive amount of food, they kept going back for more. Some so young, and others so old. I sat down edgily, looking from face to face to examine their expressions. They were all oblivious to the fact that they were slowly killing themselves with every bite they took.
I noticed one young boy about 9 years old, curly blonde hair. He was wearing blue and yellow clothes, underneath his thick coat. He was happily eating away at his yellow fries, whilst playing with the plastic toy he got with his meal. A man approached, wiping the boy’s table of the debris that had gathered sticky drink stains caked in dust, wet serviettes and left over food that coated it. He was a short, scrawny looking man, in his early twenties. His greasy hair was almost masked by the filthy baseball cap he wore. His expression was a contrasting picture of the boy’s. Outside it began to rain. The picture of the natural world was rapidly fading inside my head. His name badge read Bobby. It also had two gold stars underneath, with “Happy to help”, written in bright red letters, which stood out against the light blue background. These stars were on everyone else’s shirt that worked there, measuring their rank. One being the lowest, five the highest. The five stars’ parade around with a false expression of pride, like a schoolboy who aced a test he cheated in. They’re only fooling themselves.
I felt intoxicated by the taste More people swamped in, more noise flooded my ears. I sighted a door, not too far away and headed straight to it, trying to avoid the mass crowd that bruised my shoulders as they barged through. I relentlessly struggled battling against wave upon wave of people. As I reached the wet door handle I felt free. I had escaped the Wolves Kitchen.
----------------------
I wrote this a while back, for a piece of coursework so it's not perfect, but I wanted to enter something, and haven't got a great deal of time. Anyway - I hope you enjoyed it.