Sunday, 9 August 2015

VisDare107: Listen

I've been attempting to write a VisDare for near about a month now. Let's hope I can get back in the groove. 


Listen. The intimidating figure had whispered in his ear. His tattered black cloak flapped – no, glided – in the wind. Mithrin had never imagined that a piece of cloth could be so graceful, but this cloak was. The figure placed a bony finger under Mithrin’s chin and tilted his face, so their eyes met. Listen. He whispered again. There was a crack in his voice. The kind you hear when you step on yellowed leaves during fall. A weariness that seeped through. Behind the strange contraption was an old face. Mithrin decided. But was it a wise one?
Lost in his own thoughts and the void that were the figure’s eyes, Mithrin didn’t notice when reality began to fade and when that raspy voice trickled through his subconscious.
 …the signs are everywhere. In the chipper of a bird that comes a second too late. In the nervous croaking of frogs. The pauses in conversations in hallways and bars and alleys. Listen. You will know when you hear it. A giggle, that is not. The cackle of darkness. Listen and run.

Saturday, 1 August 2015

Excerpt: A World That Was

An excerpt from a (possibly) longer tale.

“Once upon a time, a world ended. And that is all there is to it and all that will ever be there to it. There was a world and now there is not. And that is how it goes. In the giant network of the cosmos, the absence of this world will be as unremarkable as was its presence. But I have been appointed to tell the story of this world (for everything that ever was and everything that ever is and everything that ever will be, has a tale). And I intend to do that: tell the story of a world that was; for no other reason than because I am bound by oath and blood and servitude and my masters will have it no other way.
This world, like so many others, bathed in a pool of its own arrogance and conceit. I have been asked – by my masters – to elaborate on the peoples of this world. Did they have two eyes? Or four? Or one hundred and forty two? Did they walk upright or flew or crawled or dug? What did they sound like? I have been asked to describe these people and yet I see no reason to comply. They were, in the end – stripped of all adjectives – a pompous people, a greedy people, a selfish people. The number of their limbs, their physique, their voice is immaterial. They were a people the universe was happy to lose and that is all there is.
And yet, I will tell you a tale. And I will try to make it as interesting as any a tale of an uninteresting world can be.
We will start our journey at the birth of Akara Min, mostly because that is when this world started to end and partly because Akara was the only interesting person on this world. Akara was born to the state of Osha on a Friday afternoon at exactly 3:15, along with the other three hundred of her siblings. The time was forever remembered by the peoples of her world because 3:15 was when the first asteroid fell. Of course, the world didn’t end at 3:15 on a Friday afternoon. It didn’t even end at 3:15 the next day. Au contraire to popular thought, the world does not end in a day, or a month, or even a year. There is, obviously, a last second of a world, like there is a last hour, a last day and a last year. But the end of the world is a sequence of events spread out over decades. For Akara Min and her people, this sequence started at her birth with the fall of an asteroid.”
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...