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Atop the hurricane that storms through Death Valley. Yodelling on the highest point of the world
He's seen it all, but what is there ?
There is no-one like him alive, ever, no-one to understand, no-one to save him from his downfall - so he surges on
* * * * *
An ordinary day like any other day in the sleepy village on Mentock, tucked Snuggly in the Cotswolds, a rural area situated nowhere near any big cities.
Adrians parents all ways used to tell him how lucky he was. No drunkards at his window at 2 in the morning. No gas-guzzling behemoths wooshing by his window.
But Adrian was ten and for someone who'd spent his whole life enjoying the busy bustle of the city and being someone among others, like a missing link in a long chain, felt special to him
He missed the evening lull of cars purring back and forth together with the homely glow of the dying street lamps. He'd lived in a quiet yet evntful little street in Chelsea.
Adrian sometimes spent hours watching the world go by through what his parents referred to as his 'poky little cesspit', but he'd always loved his small little room. Admittedly it was musty but it felt lived in, somehow encouraging.
Now, hundreds of miles away from anywhere, or so it seemed, there wasn't even commuters going by. He'd left all his behind painfully, being wrenched up and dragged off before even saying goodbye.
Now he was here, no commuters on the pavements, not even the voices of children happily playing in the street. Nothing but the wearing grating birdsong, over and over.
He blamed everything on them, they never understood. His Dad with his Mercedes and the lovers home at the weekends, the sordid affairs that his mum was aware of but chose to ignore. In fact he blamed his Dad. His Mum always felt the weight of the world on her shoulders and bore the full brunt of raising a child.
His Mum had died a month or so back, driving her car of the side of an old Aquaduct bridge. There was no reason for it really, it wasn't icy and the car had a brand new suspension system. His Mum had taken to secretly raiding the drinks cupboard. Her untimely demise was of her own choosing, but he was too young to comprehend this
The rain pitter-pattered gently against the window payne, reminding him he was still here in this awful place. Adrian had never been all that popular at school, he was one of the geekier kids and attended Chess Club. He didn't mind, he kept himself to himself and in a big city it was always possible to find friends that shared his interests, he wasn't so sure here
He gazed around his room at the tattered Incubus poster, his muddy trainers stashed behind his magazine littered bedside table. His 101 Dalmations bed-spread. He cringed. His parents, only his Dad now, seemed to take away his independence and treat him like a child. He wasn't a baby anymore, this filled him with another outburst of rage.
He cursed under his breath and pushed his greasy brown fringe out from his eyes. It was time for a walk. He opened his spacious cupboard door, it wasn't musty or at all homely, but instead impeccable and repulsively new.
He opened his bedroom window and hooked his legs over the sill, shimmingy along until a sturdy branch was in his grip, he made his way down the tree
* * * * *
With high and sight it wasn't a good idea to go clambering around the forest that day. The light rain quickly shaped itself into an evil looking storm.
He was wiping sap onto the frnt of his Denim jacket as he scaled a large Oak tree. Out of nowhere Thunder rumbled. Bursts of lightning lit the sky.
He scrambled down the tree ... too late, the lightning hit the tree and the Heavens seemed to open briefly to let him in, his lifeless corpse sailed down from the tree
The ensuing police enquiry and his fathers' subsequent grief meant nothing to him. He was in a far off place. He'd always wanted to go to Death Valley and here he was.
In another other-wordly place. Was he dead? It seemed no different to his ordinary hum drum life except for the fact he felt no pain. Nothing hurt anymore. His mothers passing had faded into from his memory
And so, he tumbled on. Rumbles admitted from him as his energy fuelled tentacles flicked their way across the night sky, ensnaring others.
He didn't miss his body.
He didn't miss his Mum
He just rolled on
He's seen it all, but what is there ?
There is no-one like him alive, ever, no-one to understand, no-one to save him from his downfall - so he surges on
* * * * *
An ordinary day like any other day in the sleepy village on Mentock, tucked Snuggly in the Cotswolds, a rural area situated nowhere near any big cities.
Adrians parents all ways used to tell him how lucky he was. No drunkards at his window at 2 in the morning. No gas-guzzling behemoths wooshing by his window.
But Adrian was ten and for someone who'd spent his whole life enjoying the busy bustle of the city and being someone among others, like a missing link in a long chain, felt special to him
He missed the evening lull of cars purring back and forth together with the homely glow of the dying street lamps. He'd lived in a quiet yet evntful little street in Chelsea.
Adrian sometimes spent hours watching the world go by through what his parents referred to as his 'poky little cesspit', but he'd always loved his small little room. Admittedly it was musty but it felt lived in, somehow encouraging.
Now, hundreds of miles away from anywhere, or so it seemed, there wasn't even commuters going by. He'd left all his behind painfully, being wrenched up and dragged off before even saying goodbye.
Now he was here, no commuters on the pavements, not even the voices of children happily playing in the street. Nothing but the wearing grating birdsong, over and over.
He blamed everything on them, they never understood. His Dad with his Mercedes and the lovers home at the weekends, the sordid affairs that his mum was aware of but chose to ignore. In fact he blamed his Dad. His Mum always felt the weight of the world on her shoulders and bore the full brunt of raising a child.
His Mum had died a month or so back, driving her car of the side of an old Aquaduct bridge. There was no reason for it really, it wasn't icy and the car had a brand new suspension system. His Mum had taken to secretly raiding the drinks cupboard. Her untimely demise was of her own choosing, but he was too young to comprehend this
The rain pitter-pattered gently against the window payne, reminding him he was still here in this awful place. Adrian had never been all that popular at school, he was one of the geekier kids and attended Chess Club. He didn't mind, he kept himself to himself and in a big city it was always possible to find friends that shared his interests, he wasn't so sure here
He gazed around his room at the tattered Incubus poster, his muddy trainers stashed behind his magazine littered bedside table. His 101 Dalmations bed-spread. He cringed. His parents, only his Dad now, seemed to take away his independence and treat him like a child. He wasn't a baby anymore, this filled him with another outburst of rage.
He cursed under his breath and pushed his greasy brown fringe out from his eyes. It was time for a walk. He opened his spacious cupboard door, it wasn't musty or at all homely, but instead impeccable and repulsively new.
He opened his bedroom window and hooked his legs over the sill, shimmingy along until a sturdy branch was in his grip, he made his way down the tree
* * * * *
With high and sight it wasn't a good idea to go clambering around the forest that day. The light rain quickly shaped itself into an evil looking storm.
He was wiping sap onto the frnt of his Denim jacket as he scaled a large Oak tree. Out of nowhere Thunder rumbled. Bursts of lightning lit the sky.
He scrambled down the tree ... too late, the lightning hit the tree and the Heavens seemed to open briefly to let him in, his lifeless corpse sailed down from the tree
The ensuing police enquiry and his fathers' subsequent grief meant nothing to him. He was in a far off place. He'd always wanted to go to Death Valley and here he was.
In another other-wordly place. Was he dead? It seemed no different to his ordinary hum drum life except for the fact he felt no pain. Nothing hurt anymore. His mothers passing had faded into from his memory
And so, he tumbled on. Rumbles admitted from him as his energy fuelled tentacles flicked their way across the night sky, ensnaring others.
He didn't miss his body.
He didn't miss his Mum
He just rolled on
Can't really add much more to that. Pretty good idea, but there was something missing in the execution...
The first and last bits were great - nice idea, lightning boy.
Just the middle was a bit boring.
Maybe a more jagged, weird style on things would liven things up a bit and link all the bits together better.
Just the middle was a bit boring.
Maybe a more jagged, weird style on things would liven things up a bit and link all the bits together better.
It's a good idea, but could do with being cut down a bit, you repeat some things a couple of times, well rephrase them, which slowed the pace down a little.
It sort of weaved in-and-out of being good. Some interesting descriptions and phrases, but also a few bum ones. On occasion the same word was repeated in close proximity and the flow was broken.
Good + not-so-good = okay (with potential).
Good + not-so-good = okay (with potential).
Atop the hurricane that storms through Death Valley. Yodelling on the highest point of the world
He's seen it all, but what is there ?
There is no-one like him alive, ever, no-one to understand, no-one to save him from his downfall - so he surges on
* * * * *
An ordinary day like any other day in the sleepy village on Mentock, tucked Snuggly in the Cotswolds, a rural area situated nowhere near any big cities.
Adrians parents all ways used to tell him how lucky he was. No drunkards at his window at 2 in the morning. No gas-guzzling behemoths wooshing by his window.
But Adrian was ten and for someone who'd spent his whole life enjoying the busy bustle of the city and being someone among others, like a missing link in a long chain, felt special to him
He missed the evening lull of cars purring back and forth together with the homely glow of the dying street lamps. He'd lived in a quiet yet evntful little street in Chelsea.
Adrian sometimes spent hours watching the world go by through what his parents referred to as his 'poky little cesspit', but he'd always loved his small little room. Admittedly it was musty but it felt lived in, somehow encouraging.
Now, hundreds of miles away from anywhere, or so it seemed, there wasn't even commuters going by. He'd left all his behind painfully, being wrenched up and dragged off before even saying goodbye.
Now he was here, no commuters on the pavements, not even the voices of children happily playing in the street. Nothing but the wearing grating birdsong, over and over.
He blamed everything on them, they never understood. His Dad with his Mercedes and the lovers home at the weekends, the sordid affairs that his mum was aware of but chose to ignore. In fact he blamed his Dad. His Mum always felt the weight of the world on her shoulders and bore the full brunt of raising a child.
His Mum had died a month or so back, driving her car of the side of an old Aquaduct bridge. There was no reason for it really, it wasn't icy and the car had a brand new suspension system. His Mum had taken to secretly raiding the drinks cupboard. Her untimely demise was of her own choosing, but he was too young to comprehend this
The rain pitter-pattered gently against the window payne, reminding him he was still here in this awful place. Adrian had never been all that popular at school, he was one of the geekier kids and attended Chess Club. He didn't mind, he kept himself to himself and in a big city it was always possible to find friends that shared his interests, he wasn't so sure here
He gazed around his room at the tattered Incubus poster, his muddy trainers stashed behind his magazine littered bedside table. His 101 Dalmations bed-spread. He cringed. His parents, only his Dad now, seemed to take away his independence and treat him like a child. He wasn't a baby anymore, this filled him with another outburst of rage.
He cursed under his breath and pushed his greasy brown fringe out from his eyes. It was time for a walk. He opened his spacious cupboard door, it wasn't musty or at all homely, but instead impeccable and repulsively new.
He opened his bedroom window and hooked his legs over the sill, shimmingy along until a sturdy branch was in his grip, he made his way down the tree
* * * * *
With high and sight it wasn't a good idea to go clambering around the forest that day. The light rain quickly shaped itself into an evil looking storm.
He was wiping sap onto the frnt of his Denim jacket as he scaled a large Oak tree. Out of nowhere Thunder rumbled. Bursts of lightning lit the sky.
He scrambled down the tree ... too late, the lightning hit the tree and the Heavens seemed to open briefly to let him in, his lifeless corpse sailed down from the tree
The ensuing police enquiry and his fathers' subsequent grief meant nothing to him. He was in a far off place. He'd always wanted to go to Death Valley and here he was.
In another other-wordly place. Was he dead? It seemed no different to his ordinary hum drum life except for the fact he felt no pain. Nothing hurt anymore. His mothers passing had faded into from his memory
And so, he tumbled on. Rumbles admitted from him as his energy fuelled tentacles flicked their way across the night sky, ensnaring others.
He didn't miss his body.
He didn't miss his Mum
He just rolled on
He's seen it all, but what is there ?
There is no-one like him alive, ever, no-one to understand, no-one to save him from his downfall - so he surges on
* * * * *
An ordinary day like any other day in the sleepy village on Mentock, tucked Snuggly in the Cotswolds, a rural area situated nowhere near any big cities.
Adrians parents all ways used to tell him how lucky he was. No drunkards at his window at 2 in the morning. No gas-guzzling behemoths wooshing by his window.
But Adrian was ten and for someone who'd spent his whole life enjoying the busy bustle of the city and being someone among others, like a missing link in a long chain, felt special to him
He missed the evening lull of cars purring back and forth together with the homely glow of the dying street lamps. He'd lived in a quiet yet evntful little street in Chelsea.
Adrian sometimes spent hours watching the world go by through what his parents referred to as his 'poky little cesspit', but he'd always loved his small little room. Admittedly it was musty but it felt lived in, somehow encouraging.
Now, hundreds of miles away from anywhere, or so it seemed, there wasn't even commuters going by. He'd left all his behind painfully, being wrenched up and dragged off before even saying goodbye.
Now he was here, no commuters on the pavements, not even the voices of children happily playing in the street. Nothing but the wearing grating birdsong, over and over.
He blamed everything on them, they never understood. His Dad with his Mercedes and the lovers home at the weekends, the sordid affairs that his mum was aware of but chose to ignore. In fact he blamed his Dad. His Mum always felt the weight of the world on her shoulders and bore the full brunt of raising a child.
His Mum had died a month or so back, driving her car of the side of an old Aquaduct bridge. There was no reason for it really, it wasn't icy and the car had a brand new suspension system. His Mum had taken to secretly raiding the drinks cupboard. Her untimely demise was of her own choosing, but he was too young to comprehend this
The rain pitter-pattered gently against the window payne, reminding him he was still here in this awful place. Adrian had never been all that popular at school, he was one of the geekier kids and attended Chess Club. He didn't mind, he kept himself to himself and in a big city it was always possible to find friends that shared his interests, he wasn't so sure here
He gazed around his room at the tattered Incubus poster, his muddy trainers stashed behind his magazine littered bedside table. His 101 Dalmations bed-spread. He cringed. His parents, only his Dad now, seemed to take away his independence and treat him like a child. He wasn't a baby anymore, this filled him with another outburst of rage.
He cursed under his breath and pushed his greasy brown fringe out from his eyes. It was time for a walk. He opened his spacious cupboard door, it wasn't musty or at all homely, but instead impeccable and repulsively new.
He opened his bedroom window and hooked his legs over the sill, shimmingy along until a sturdy branch was in his grip, he made his way down the tree
* * * * *
With high and sight it wasn't a good idea to go clambering around the forest that day. The light rain quickly shaped itself into an evil looking storm.
He was wiping sap onto the frnt of his Denim jacket as he scaled a large Oak tree. Out of nowhere Thunder rumbled. Bursts of lightning lit the sky.
He scrambled down the tree ... too late, the lightning hit the tree and the Heavens seemed to open briefly to let him in, his lifeless corpse sailed down from the tree
The ensuing police enquiry and his fathers' subsequent grief meant nothing to him. He was in a far off place. He'd always wanted to go to Death Valley and here he was.
In another other-wordly place. Was he dead? It seemed no different to his ordinary hum drum life except for the fact he felt no pain. Nothing hurt anymore. His mothers passing had faded into from his memory
And so, he tumbled on. Rumbles admitted from him as his energy fuelled tentacles flicked their way across the night sky, ensnaring others.
He didn't miss his body.
He didn't miss his Mum
He just rolled on