-
Elegant, slow handwriting appears on the wall of your infested, graffiti covered apartment. You feel yourself cringe back as the words seem to form snake eyes with an emerald, penetrating gaze. You feel paralysed, like the way a boy freezes when his hand has been caught halfway in a cookie jar. The handwriting forms one, scarring sentence.
Beware, for when the snake catches its prey, all hope will be lost.
A shadow crosses your face, and an unwelcome presence breaches your senses. Your heart begins to race and you clutch your chest, the pain almost overwhelming you. Falling to your knees, a malevolent laugh fills your ears. Your vision suddenly grows darker and the sound of a body falling to the ground echoes into the corners of the rooms, revealing everything. Yet the imprint of those words still stayed fresh in your mind.
----------------------------------------------------------
A twirling couple were dancing with the moonlight. Relaxed smiles settled on their faces, showing that they're without a care in the world. Lights are strewn across the trees and bushes. The woman tilts back her head and laughs enchantingly. Her hair is dark, thick and glossy. The purple silk gown adorned her body. Diamonds ran along the hem of the dress, sparkling when she moved. The man became transparent when you glanced at him, for you were consumed by the beauty the twirling woman conveyed. She had familiar green flames dancing in her eyes and a wicked all-knowing smile. The realisation that was lurking in the shadows of your mind suddenly came forth, but your eyes were still drawn to the woman as your consumption blinded you. She turned her head and smiled at you, aware of your sudden presence, almost as if she intended for you to see this. She smiled that beckoning smile once more and encouraged you to join her, momentarily forgetting about her current partner. You took a step forward but it was almost as if you were taking a step through time. Immediately, all fragments of the scene dissipated and you returned to the comfort of your run-down, shabby apartment.
- Title: {Untitled}
- Artist: Zlae
-
Description:
I'm 13 years old, and these are some very short segments of a story I plan to write. Very, very short.
Ugh, I know it's in 2nd person, I'm not sure about which tense to write it in. Constructive criticism, pretty please.
If anyone would ever be so interested as to ask me about it, I'd be happy to share the plot with you. - Date: 04/19/2011
- Tags: untitled
- Report Post
Comments (0 Comments)
No comments available ...