United States of America
"Step into a scene and let it drip from your fingertips." MJ Bush
Be the person you can only be. Write what only you can write. Never look back. You have something that you and only you can put into the world. So don't hold it back. Let it shine!
Let me know what you think. =)
Written By: Suri Purefoy
July 1, 2015
She was up in the tree. Her face pressed up against the cool stone bark, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and her legs dangling from the tree limb's surface, the girl sat there. Her head throbbed with clear, cutting-stone pain that havened around her forhead and into her eyes, but also reached down into the muscles of her spine and shoulders. Everything hurt.
The girl closed her red eyes, hoping to find some sort of release from the pain that so easily had visited her. But she was afraid that it was making its stay permanent.
The girl, looking to be about thirteen years of age, had short, ear-length black and gray-twisted hair tucked beneath a deep blue hood. The fabric, smooth as it was, looked to be shimmering like rushing water against the wind and moon-lit sky. Small, delicate patterns depicting letters of a strange language and plants of nature embroidered the robe in the blackest of black thread.
A strand of the girl's roughly cut hair blew into her eyes. Slowly, her left hand reached up and grapsed the chunk. Rubbing her dirty fingers over the strands, she could feel its purity and smooth ,silky, fabric-like quality.
It used to be so pretty, a voice inside her head whispered.
It was true. Her hair had been her splendor; her beauty that defined her. But now that was gone, taken from her by her own choice, and now all that was left of her was the fine robe. And that wasn't even truly her.
The wind blew a winter-cold breeze up to where the girl sat. As the gust seemed to grow, she wrapped her clothed arms around the tree limb, clinging to it for dear life.
It was coming for her.
In the light of the twilight moon, It sniffed the air, searching for the scent he had been following for so long now. There was the wind that smelled of pine trees and the lake that steadily lapsed a few yards away. Bushes of sagebrush and flowers drifted up to his nostrils. A small furry creature burrowing into the grou-
Ah, there it was. It could smell the sweet smell of the commoner. The makeup she had applied that morning. The plant-whiped scent of her clothes. And the scent of the blade that had sliced through that hair.
It stood on his haunches, letting his nose guide him to his subject.
The girl opened her eyes finally. The wind had died down to just a slow cooling breeze. But she could feel it now; the doom that was coming.
As she searched for a way to get away, her eyes brushed over the mass of trees that stood around her. She couldn't go on the ground, but niether could she stay in a tree where the creature could easily find her.
Then, something red caught her attention.
As her eyes focused, she blew in a sharp intake of frightened breath. There is was.
On a tree limb not even two feet away from the girl, the darkest of green vines clung to the stone bark, circling around the limb as if to choke it. Little leaves and sprouts poked out of the twisty vine. At the end of the vine, where it circled up to rest at the top of the flat gray bark,the greenery spread out, the leaves becoming bigger. Then they wrapped around a flower. A gorgeous red crimson flower. The petals, the darkest, yet a light red danced out of the middle of the black inner core. They spread out, almost seeming to swift towards the light of teh moon.
The girl stared at it. Then she heard a howl. Without much thought, she reached forward, grapsing one of the smooth, soft, heavenly pteals from the flower. The crimson seemed to glow on her palm.
Ears perked up in alarm, It let out a low, gutteral growl. Then he howled, loud into the night. Danicng gracefully up the stone tree, It continued to sniff the air. Then he saw her.
Her robe danced in the wind, racing away from her pale, pale face. Her red eyes were covered slightly with the strand of short gray hair. Her eyes were gazing down at her palm. A red light began to burn from her hand, lighting her frightened face.
It howled again, louder than the first time. He lunged at the smooth limb that his victim sat on. His mouth agape, he bit down. Only to swallow air.
He growled and yowled, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. Or heard. Or tracked.