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Smokey Meadow
The dried, crisp leaf rattled across the baron landscape. Once it was lush, green and full of life. Once it had sat upon the tallest of branches in the oak tree. The wind would command it and the leaf obeyed by waving in reply like a bowler hat being lowered in respect.
That’s all He wanted, respect.
No longer did the ever-lasting flow of fresh water crash down upon the rocks at the bottom of the falls. Replaced by the falls was a dry, sand died, stone wall. Its age was now shown by the cracks in the rocks. No longer was it perfectly smooth, no longer did it guide the rapid flow of water down its streamlined body. Now it was old, wrinkled.
Now the sight of the old would not spare them, now they would learn to see each other grow old.
The beautiful garden that was an oasis for them and the mystical beasts was snatched away, replaced by a dry carpet that let no emotion be set free and showed no mercy.
Yes, they should remember the wonderfully designed animals. They once grazed upon the perfectly curved hills, luminated by the brilliant greens and yellows of the meadow draped over them.
Every morning the sun would rise and reveal the true glories of this garden and would praise its maker.
He only asked for two simple things, to be respected and praised.
The once deep forest with no apparent boundaries that was once full of life and light had now been replaced by a dark and withered wood, which contained fear and death.
Not many places didn’t contain the stench of death now. The unforgiving ground now was the home of many fallen trees. Each one naked to the trunk, like a skeleton with no flesh. The bones of the once majestic beasts also littered the ground, rib bones occasionally poking out of the ground like the new shoots once used to, but no longer do.
And finally the meadow. A once brilliantly smooth lay out with equally grown grass lengths that waved in blasts of wind. No longer did the grass whisper in the wind but smoke. It lifted delicately into the air and twirled and spiralled as it went.
Thin layers of the grey and slightly light blue smoke twisted and tied itself around his face. He swiped it away and looked down into his hand. A maroon coloured apple lay in his grasp; medium-sized teeth marks were embedded into the waxy outer skin of the apple, like jewels placed in a crown. He threw it to the floor and it became part of the smoke that devoured the sky in a thick blanket of darkness.
Temptation was too strong for the man; he had lost it all. Too late was it for forgiveness – He had judged.
The dried, crisp leaf rattled across the baron landscape. Once it was lush, green and full of life. Once it had sat upon the tallest of branches in the oak tree. The wind would command it and the leaf obeyed by waving in reply like a bowler hat being lowered in respect.
That’s all He wanted, respect.
No longer did the ever-lasting flow of fresh water crash down upon the rocks at the bottom of the falls. Replaced by the falls was a dry, sand died, stone wall. Its age was now shown by the cracks in the rocks. No longer was it perfectly smooth, no longer did it guide the rapid flow of water down its streamlined body. Now it was old, wrinkled.
Now the sight of the old would not spare them, now they would learn to see each other grow old.
The beautiful garden that was an oasis for them and the mystical beasts was snatched away, replaced by a dry carpet that let no emotion be set free and showed no mercy.
Yes, they should remember the wonderfully designed animals. They once grazed upon the perfectly curved hills, luminated by the brilliant greens and yellows of the meadow draped over them.
Every morning the sun would rise and reveal the true glories of this garden and would praise its maker.
He only asked for two simple things, to be respected and praised.
The once deep forest with no apparent boundaries that was once full of life and light had now been replaced by a dark and withered wood, which contained fear and death.
Not many places didn’t contain the stench of death now. The unforgiving ground now was the home of many fallen trees. Each one naked to the trunk, like a skeleton with no flesh. The bones of the once majestic beasts also littered the ground, rib bones occasionally poking out of the ground like the new shoots once used to, but no longer do.
And finally the meadow. A once brilliantly smooth lay out with equally grown grass lengths that waved in blasts of wind. No longer did the grass whisper in the wind but smoke. It lifted delicately into the air and twirled and spiralled as it went.
Thin layers of the grey and slightly light blue smoke twisted and tied itself around his face. He swiped it away and looked down into his hand. A maroon coloured apple lay in his grasp; medium-sized teeth marks were embedded into the waxy outer skin of the apple, like jewels placed in a crown. He threw it to the floor and it became part of the smoke that devoured the sky in a thick blanket of darkness.
Temptation was too strong for the man; he had lost it all. Too late was it for forgiveness – He had judged.
Good, did read this before, forgot to write anything, sorry
Would you Adam and Eve it! (sorry, had to be done!) Nice story there and another interesting take on the Smoke idea.
A difficult competition to be judged, to be sure.
A difficult competition to be judged, to be sure.
Silent Thunder wrote:
> but maybe I could have said there was a female
> with him, to make it more clearer.
Nope you didn't need to introduce her into the story. T'was very enjoyable.
> but maybe I could have said there was a female
> with him, to make it more clearer.
Nope you didn't need to introduce her into the story. T'was very enjoyable.
I liked that, yus yus. Nice one.
Seemed a little ... I dunno, restrained to me. Like with one more push it could have broken through something and straight into my mind.
...
Something like that.
Very good nonetheless.
Seemed a little ... I dunno, restrained to me. Like with one more push it could have broken through something and straight into my mind.
...
Something like that.
Very good nonetheless.
Ashman wrote:
> I thought that the "He" was intentional after reading the
> whole piece.
Yep 'twas. I didn't really want to push the idea anymore such as starting to use names, but maybe I could have said there was a female with him, to make it more clearer.
Thanks for the comments, Rickoss.
> I thought that the "He" was intentional after reading the
> whole piece.
Yep 'twas. I didn't really want to push the idea anymore such as starting to use names, but maybe I could have said there was a female with him, to make it more clearer.
Thanks for the comments, Rickoss.
Ashman wrote:
> Even though I pretty much guessed where it was heading quite early in
> the story, I really enjoyed reading that.
I was hoping that it would make sense as you went through and, if it didn't, the mention of the fruit at the end would hopefully make it all click together.
> I particularly liked the
> piece as it got towards the end, in terms of style and description
> anyway. It flowed wonderfully for the last few paragraphs, and made
> reading it a joy.
Yey, many thanks. :-)
>
> In some instances, generally earlier on, I felt you used too many
> full stops, and this restricted the piece slightly. But it didn't
> matter because you pulled it back 100% later in the piece.
>
> Well done, ST.
I think I was just worried about creating huge sentences that drag on, which I'm more than capable of. So I thought using the full stops more than often would make it flow better. Gives me something to think about next time though.
Anyway I'm glad you liked it and thanks for the comments. :-)
> Even though I pretty much guessed where it was heading quite early in
> the story, I really enjoyed reading that.
I was hoping that it would make sense as you went through and, if it didn't, the mention of the fruit at the end would hopefully make it all click together.
> I particularly liked the
> piece as it got towards the end, in terms of style and description
> anyway. It flowed wonderfully for the last few paragraphs, and made
> reading it a joy.
Yey, many thanks. :-)
>
> In some instances, generally earlier on, I felt you used too many
> full stops, and this restricted the piece slightly. But it didn't
> matter because you pulled it back 100% later in the piece.
>
> Well done, ST.
I think I was just worried about creating huge sentences that drag on, which I'm more than capable of. So I thought using the full stops more than often would make it flow better. Gives me something to think about next time though.
Anyway I'm glad you liked it and thanks for the comments. :-)
I thought that the "He" was intentional after reading the whole piece.
I loved that!
I think I saw a couple of grammatical errors (capital H in 'he' somewhere and an s where it wasn't needed), but other than that, it was great.
There were some wonderful pictures in my head when you described the forest turning into a withering wood (hur hur).
End seemed a little forced, mind.
I think I saw a couple of grammatical errors (capital H in 'he' somewhere and an s where it wasn't needed), but other than that, it was great.
There were some wonderful pictures in my head when you described the forest turning into a withering wood (hur hur).
End seemed a little forced, mind.
Even though I pretty much guessed where it was heading quite early in the story, I really enjoyed reading that. I particularly liked the piece as it got towards the end, in terms of style and description anyway. It flowed wonderfully for the last few paragraphs, and made reading it a joy.
In some instances, generally earlier on, I felt you used too many full stops, and this restricted the piece slightly. But it didn't matter because you pulled it back 100% later in the piece.
Well done, ST.
In some instances, generally earlier on, I felt you used too many full stops, and this restricted the piece slightly. But it didn't matter because you pulled it back 100% later in the piece.
Well done, ST.
Smokey Meadow
The dried, crisp leaf rattled across the baron landscape. Once it was lush, green and full of life. Once it had sat upon the tallest of branches in the oak tree. The wind would command it and the leaf obeyed by waving in reply like a bowler hat being lowered in respect.
That’s all He wanted, respect.
No longer did the ever-lasting flow of fresh water crash down upon the rocks at the bottom of the falls. Replaced by the falls was a dry, sand died, stone wall. Its age was now shown by the cracks in the rocks. No longer was it perfectly smooth, no longer did it guide the rapid flow of water down its streamlined body. Now it was old, wrinkled.
Now the sight of the old would not spare them, now they would learn to see each other grow old.
The beautiful garden that was an oasis for them and the mystical beasts was snatched away, replaced by a dry carpet that let no emotion be set free and showed no mercy.
Yes, they should remember the wonderfully designed animals. They once grazed upon the perfectly curved hills, luminated by the brilliant greens and yellows of the meadow draped over them.
Every morning the sun would rise and reveal the true glories of this garden and would praise its maker.
He only asked for two simple things, to be respected and praised.
The once deep forest with no apparent boundaries that was once full of life and light had now been replaced by a dark and withered wood, which contained fear and death.
Not many places didn’t contain the stench of death now. The unforgiving ground now was the home of many fallen trees. Each one naked to the trunk, like a skeleton with no flesh. The bones of the once majestic beasts also littered the ground, rib bones occasionally poking out of the ground like the new shoots once used to, but no longer do.
And finally the meadow. A once brilliantly smooth lay out with equally grown grass lengths that waved in blasts of wind. No longer did the grass whisper in the wind but smoke. It lifted delicately into the air and twirled and spiralled as it went.
Thin layers of the grey and slightly light blue smoke twisted and tied itself around his face. He swiped it away and looked down into his hand. A maroon coloured apple lay in his grasp; medium-sized teeth marks were embedded into the waxy outer skin of the apple, like jewels placed in a crown. He threw it to the floor and it became part of the smoke that devoured the sky in a thick blanket of darkness.
Temptation was too strong for the man; he had lost it all. Too late was it for forgiveness – He had judged.
The dried, crisp leaf rattled across the baron landscape. Once it was lush, green and full of life. Once it had sat upon the tallest of branches in the oak tree. The wind would command it and the leaf obeyed by waving in reply like a bowler hat being lowered in respect.
That’s all He wanted, respect.
No longer did the ever-lasting flow of fresh water crash down upon the rocks at the bottom of the falls. Replaced by the falls was a dry, sand died, stone wall. Its age was now shown by the cracks in the rocks. No longer was it perfectly smooth, no longer did it guide the rapid flow of water down its streamlined body. Now it was old, wrinkled.
Now the sight of the old would not spare them, now they would learn to see each other grow old.
The beautiful garden that was an oasis for them and the mystical beasts was snatched away, replaced by a dry carpet that let no emotion be set free and showed no mercy.
Yes, they should remember the wonderfully designed animals. They once grazed upon the perfectly curved hills, luminated by the brilliant greens and yellows of the meadow draped over them.
Every morning the sun would rise and reveal the true glories of this garden and would praise its maker.
He only asked for two simple things, to be respected and praised.
The once deep forest with no apparent boundaries that was once full of life and light had now been replaced by a dark and withered wood, which contained fear and death.
Not many places didn’t contain the stench of death now. The unforgiving ground now was the home of many fallen trees. Each one naked to the trunk, like a skeleton with no flesh. The bones of the once majestic beasts also littered the ground, rib bones occasionally poking out of the ground like the new shoots once used to, but no longer do.
And finally the meadow. A once brilliantly smooth lay out with equally grown grass lengths that waved in blasts of wind. No longer did the grass whisper in the wind but smoke. It lifted delicately into the air and twirled and spiralled as it went.
Thin layers of the grey and slightly light blue smoke twisted and tied itself around his face. He swiped it away and looked down into his hand. A maroon coloured apple lay in his grasp; medium-sized teeth marks were embedded into the waxy outer skin of the apple, like jewels placed in a crown. He threw it to the floor and it became part of the smoke that devoured the sky in a thick blanket of darkness.
Temptation was too strong for the man; he had lost it all. Too late was it for forgiveness – He had judged.