9 years ago
Undecided
They're afraid of what they don't know. Humans are creatures of understanding, even the children. You, compared to them, Solan are a freak. You house items in a barrel chest. Your cylindrical shaped head only contains a thin-lipped mouth with no eyes, ears, nose nor hair. Like a mannequin you are—a doll if you may—only stouter in height and twice one's width. Your arms are also twice their supposed normal length reaching below the knees. The arm down to the wrist resembles a hose, while your hand is indeed a human's, it is not, with the middle and ring finger joined together.
“That's why they're afraid?” he said then.
Precisely.
...I have no idea what to say, guys...
Frankly, I'm stuck as to whether I should vent or not.
...
..
.
So, how is everybody?
Sunday Scribblings #173 - Nowhere
For the SC prompt— Where in the world?
Mars was on the run again.
He previously decided to hide in a room, but despite it's normal appearance, it wasn't.
It was a quaint room with a crackling fire and plush sofas set around a coffee table. It was oh so similar to home that he made himself comfortable accordingly... Then things spoke. Even the most ordinary objects suddenly drew sharp breaths, scolding the very sight of him. They even went as low to criticizing him for having a face when only the Matriarch—if he recalled correctly—and her Knights were the only ones allowed faces. It was then and there that he decided to run for his life and not look back—
He was in a hallway, wide and empty. To the side of him were three-story tall windows, triangular-shaped, like arrowheads lined up a few inches apart. Each shimmered as if made of crystal, enhancing the sight of the garden behind it. Mars followed this path, hoping it would lead him to that garden. He hoped that entering the garden would end this terrible dream because that was how the majority of his dreams ended in the past—
He always ran, it seemed, always ran from something. If he were to look back, whatever landscape was left was encased in ice and the ice didn't show any notion of stopping unless it engulfed everything in it's path. And always there was a light he ran to, and beyond that light was the warmth of a garden in summer. Staring up at the sun in the sky, the blinding sensation subsequent to that would wake him...
The hall was unusually quiet, it had been for the ten minutes or so the second he darted out of that room—if not ten then something close to it. There was no way of telling time in this infernal place. Adjacent the triangle windows were rows of doors. And with those rows of doors—all equally tall but more narrow—were patches of bare wall. On those patches were clocks, all different sizes and shapes and colors, and all with no face, just the numbers and the second hand ticking away. All those monotonous ticks and tocks, put together with the patter of his feet on the polished floors—it all couldn't have been anything else but a dream!
Mars was on the run again.
He previously decided to hide in a room, but despite it's normal appearance, it wasn't.
It was a quaint room with a crackling fire and plush sofas set around a coffee table. It was oh so similar to home that he made himself comfortable accordingly... Then things spoke. Even the most ordinary objects suddenly drew sharp breaths, scolding the very sight of him. They even went as low to criticizing him for having a face when only the Matriarch—if he recalled correctly—and her Knights were the only ones allowed faces. It was then and there that he decided to run for his life and not look back—
He was in a hallway, wide and empty. To the side of him were three-story tall windows, triangular-shaped, like arrowheads lined up a few inches apart. Each shimmered as if made of crystal, enhancing the sight of the garden behind it. Mars followed this path, hoping it would lead him to that garden. He hoped that entering the garden would end this terrible dream because that was how the majority of his dreams ended in the past—
He always ran, it seemed, always ran from something. If he were to look back, whatever landscape was left was encased in ice and the ice didn't show any notion of stopping unless it engulfed everything in it's path. And always there was a light he ran to, and beyond that light was the warmth of a garden in summer. Staring up at the sun in the sky, the blinding sensation subsequent to that would wake him...
The hall was unusually quiet, it had been for the ten minutes or so the second he darted out of that room—if not ten then something close to it. There was no way of telling time in this infernal place. Adjacent the triangle windows were rows of doors. And with those rows of doors—all equally tall but more narrow—were patches of bare wall. On those patches were clocks, all different sizes and shapes and colors, and all with no face, just the numbers and the second hand ticking away. All those monotonous ticks and tocks, put together with the patter of his feet on the polished floors—it all couldn't have been anything else but a dream!
...Text spam
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..that is all. :) No, of course not... I, in my boredom decided to post a scene that I just can't get right (I'm actually procrastinating but...)
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..that is all. :) No, of course not... I, in my boredom decided to post a scene that I just can't get right (I'm actually procrastinating but...)
“Stars fall constantly, that's why our sky is bleak and dark.”And there's a significant break after that. Critique, comments, any kind of feedback or random comment is welcome.
There is none but a moon, and sun—though small—that is constantly covered by thick clouds. A voice echoes, in that bleak reality, a reprimanding voice full of scorn. They say the world was forsaken. They say the world is doomed. They say the world is in the hands of a jealous god, who, sickly with envy and hatred for humans, wishes to extinguish their own creations...
A smile...sharp, jagged. Sunken hollow faces emerging from the fog...
Crunch! Goes the leaves under their steps as they neared the child amongst them. Long hair obscuring her shaky body, a torn dress soaked in red. She had tripped and fallen, losing her escort because of a game. This wasn't a game now.
The child, tears running from her eyes, looked around her, fear welling in the pit of her stomach. Then she stopped shaking. The hundreds of figures, the glowing, ravenous eyes, disappeared one by one, leaving a boy behind. He was like the others, pale in skin, though dressed fashionably in black and white, a red ribbon tied on his right index. Lorelei attempted to stand, suddenly noticing a ribbon on the same finger.
It wasn't there before.
Upon standing, the wound had healed and Lorelei had grown in age and appearance, from a young child to sixteen in a split second. The other had grown too, revealing a young man. He appeared to be the same age as Lorelei but there was something in his face that said otherwise. Tall and lean in structure, clad in a plain white dress shirt with hands in his trouser pockets. Through his dark layered hair were light blue eyes. Under that indifferent gaze revealed years of hurt. Suddenly, his mouth moved to form words, but Lorelei couldn't hear. He didn't seem bothered whether she heard or not.
Wanting to know more, she took a step towards him, he, backward. She paused momentarily, dashing forward to meet his challenge. He, with the same expression, spun around and walked away, gradually speeding up into a sprint. Lorelei was alone.
Fear, the same fear from her earlier encounter, returned. The same footsteps... The images from before, those human-like creatures... Panicking, she turned round and round, shouting with no voice, to something or someone... Whatever it was she was shouting, she noted three syllables...a name. She stopped and looked at her hands, the ribbon no longer present on her finger. Sadness leadened her heart.
To the left. The snapping of twigs. To the right. A faint breathing... She looked to the roof of the forest, catching a sparkle, no, several glints of light fall in the same direction the young man took. There she ran, constantly looking up at what she believed was the sky through the tops of the trees, using the fear of her assailants to push her bare feet harder.
And somewhere in her chase to find him, a verse came to mind. It was unfamiliar and not; like a tugging memory or a fragment of a dream...
“A sky full of stars where you can reach and take one if you wanted to.
A sky where light shines. A sky of springs and summers and autumns...
Somewhere, there's a sky that we'll watch together...
“Promise me this.”
...
For a second on the path, there was light. It's brightness consumed Lorelei's figure, swiftly turning to darkness. The forest scenery was gone and what remained was null space. He stood there, his back towards her. Slowly, he peered over his shoulder, his eyes registering the girl who stood meters away. Lorelei shuddered at his gaze.
For a second, there was sound, Lorelei's hands clenching the fabric of her silk nightgown. But nobody talked.
Then there was a tear that slid down Lorelei's face.
She remembered his name.
His name was...