Tag: come back

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Evergreen Snow

Narrator: Snow fell in Moreland as it had every day. I only mention this as a note to viewers as to mention it to a Morelander would be like reminding her there was air. Snow fell every day. All day. It had never not fallen.

Camera: Beginning in the clouds and drifting and blustering like a snowflake—not following any one flake specifically like that feather in Forrest Gump—descending to the ground. We slip over tree tops down to rooftops. Whipping past rooftops and around round-guttered corners into an alley. A fight below catches our attention but we are still bound to behave like snow. Three boys square-off with four. We alight barely in frame behind the three and can only see boots and pant legs. One of the three carries a fat tube that looks made for maps or art. We hear voices.

Voice 1: Give over, Tommy.
Voice 2: Yeah, give over, Tommy.

Camera: Black pants backs up and snatches the tube protectively out of our view.

Voice 1: I said, give over.
Voice 2: He said…[thump]

Camera: A pair of blue boots on the four-side away from then back to a pair of laced black boots on the same side.

Voice A: It’s not yours.
Voice 1: It’s not yours either.
Voice A: I’m taking it back.
Voice 1: Me too. After I look through it. Give over. That’s the last time I ask.

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Chasing Jace

http://cghub.com/images/view/82401/

Gravel trickled away from Jace’s lone toe-hold in the crumbling rock where he clung. Again and again he brought his soul to the the cusp between anchored and free. So far, Jace had won each contest, and there were more to come if he could just win this one struggle. Not waiting for a more secure platform, he pulled with his arms and threw his free leg up to the edge. His heel caught, and that was enough. He pulled himself to the safety of the center of the floating rock.

At first, Jace kept count of his leaps from rock to rock, from step to step. But, before he had gotten to ten, the effort to focus on anything but the leaping and the grasping and the climbing drove that count from his thoughts. He had come a short way up [cool name] and yet had a long way to go before reaching [cool name at the end]. Jace lay on the rock shoveling air into his lungs like a tomb robber refilling a grave. Behind and below him, his persuer—that girl from Jarmony House—made another good leap. Behind and below her the sun raced them both to the horizon.

Jace did not know her name. He only knew she had redhair, and, while she was common to look at, she was beautiful to consider…and she wet-cat furious.

He stood up to evaluate his next jump. That higher rock was half the size of his current rock and not a good one to stop on for the night. From what he could see, the second one looked large enough for overnighting. A good combination for keeping him seperate from her.

290 words on day 572

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The Secrets Bible

In the center lay a square box draped in gold cloth. A gift maybe.

We people, individual persons really, surrounded this box at a distance. Our numbers crowded deep into the dark corners where the braziers couldn’t reach. Each man and each woman arranged themselves such that they could see the box. We packed ourselves shoulder to shoulder and front to back. Each knew if their neighbor wore rough linen or smooth silk. Where four pillars stood, our desire to see that box cast a shadow of humanity.

The spice of the men and the fruit or flower of the women warmed the air but dissipated with the fires’ smoke and the cave cool of the carved stone walls. Hidden vents replaced the clean human smells with unused outside air.

Only the shuffle of a slipper or the scuff of a boot created an occasional murmur in a room void of spoken words. And, despite a marble ceiling the tallest among us could touch with his fingertips, the room remained hush.

None of we knew what our box held. None of we wished to not know.

The last person, a woman, stepped into the perfectly filled room. All eyes drifted from the box to momentarily light on her. She was unremarkable.

Kung!

We felt the sound in our feet more than heard it in our ears.

Kung!

Someone gasped—not near me—all the others remained silent but looked one to the other. Each person’s face mirrored the others: eyes wide and mouths drawing breath to ask an unfinished question.

A delicate steady drum-pat surrounded we. A distant flute began and did not stop.

For no obvious reason all faces refocused on that box. It rested in the center of a sunken square of the floor two steps down where the lucky first few to enter sat comfortably while most of we stood. The gold cloth marked the sharp corners of the box; four ridges sloped outward and downward to merge with the stone plain. We could see the dark red box through the cloth. It was larger than I’d first supposed.

A faster moreinsistent drum quickened the pace of the music and strings imparted an invigorating rhythm and melody. I blinked my eyes to clear a mote and the box shimmered and rose to it’s bare feet. Our angular box transformed into a curvaceous woman in gold.

She swept a bow into dancing.

412 words on day 564