Fire and Ice: The Beginning of the End

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is strictly for people to read and critisize. I've been comtemplating whether to continue the story, and i thought to just put up a section of what i developed, and if it appeals to you guys, I'd create a more... developed back story and start from scratch. I'm new with third person writing, so don't hold back. i could use all the constructive critisizm and advice right now. Thanks :)

Submitted: March 17, 2012

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Submitted: March 17, 2012

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“Breaking News… Civilians all around the globe are now being asked to find shelter immediately as one of our most disastrous natural occurrences descends upon us. Flooding rivers, earthquakes of immense proportions, winds and rain rising up to and possibly even above 300 miles per hour. Marty Torsion with some of the details!” The flashing screen shifts. A plump balding man appears, bright yellow rain coat and wide staring eyes filling the television as he describes the severity of the situation. The pale light exposes a wide section of the otherwise empty room, hitting the glossy wooden walls, but the shadows seem to recoil in disgust and sit, staring, scrutinizing the light in avid irritation. The only sound emanates from the television, and it seems oddly out of place in the growing silence and frigid atmosphere. Time and space even seemed to bend, fold over in on itself and avoid the region completely. No movement, no sound, no sign of any apparent life. The waiting silence grows as does the cold, and just when it gets to the point where thin veins of translucent ice begin to crawl over the surface of the walls and even the floor like a lacework tattoo, the television shuts off. Complete silence now… the ice continues to cover more of the small room. Then the tiniest motion detectable… Another burst of wind that comes from nowhere, and a portion of the shadows darkens and then dissipates into smoke. Tendrils and curls of blue-black snake through the air in aggression, leaving a stained black smoldering mark of anything it touches and then relapses, gathering near the edge of the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the room. A figure materializes from it… A single slow breath hinted in liberation, reaches out a hand toward the curtain. On cue, it moves aside obediently on it’s own as the hand rests on the glass. A sharp, audible crack breaks the pressured silence, slicing through the air and settling heavily over the room. Inhale… Exhale. This time a tiny silver-white cloud mushrooms and in the fraction of a second it hits the a pale beam of filtered light from the window the exposed breath shines and twinkles like a thousand tiny facets on a diamond. What’s left of the cloud becomes crystal, sharp miniscule fragments that drift and then fade. Another crack, and another, splitting the window into a spider’s masterpiece of web work until the glass finally collapses and heads for the floor. Before it hits the ground it dissolves into snow, and a gale force wind rips through the room, carrying debris, rain and other trash from outside. The furniture smashes against the door and back wall as more garbage is swept in, and the rain follows in thick gray sheets, drenching almost the entire room and the contents. The figure moves soundlessly through the oncoming wreckage, but the rain and wind arc and bypass it in a sweeping movement. As it moves it’s dark hood falls, revealing a boy. About seventeen he looked, though from any standpoint he would have seemed ageless. His caramel colored skin glowed faintly, and his features were sharp, but undeniably handsome. Even his hair, jet black, styled up and layered made him look younger. But as the onslaught of constant rain and wind continue to rage at him, he smiles quietly, and his pale blue eyes focus on something ahead outside. After minutes, he raises a hand, palm out, and like the moment before lightning strikes, everything freezes. The rain slows and then completely stops, suspended in mid-air, as does everything else. Raindrops hang, pointed, as if they were hung by strings. His smile widens and he turns, slowly surveying the damage done by nature. But that wind and rain hadn’t just come, he knew. He took silent note of the change in the atmosphere as he stood there, moments before, watching, waiting in the midst of it all. That rain wasn’t normal, no, nor the wind. That had been sent specifically for him. And for a brief moment he stood, with wonder at the possibility of who would even think of attacking him, when he felt it. The energy from another’s presence radiated through and from the wind, carrying a faint smell with it even. Heat seeped from the energy, and if he hadn’t paid attention he would have never noticed it growing, expanding until it completely succumbed him. But now, as time became nothing, the red-orange bands of heat loomed above him, detained in all its glory. He took a single breath, and smiled again to himself, shaking his head in curt shame. He looked up, his eyes piercing the dark magic in hatred, and in a blinding motion, widened his arms and clapped. Like a movie pressed play, everything came back into motion, and glass, rain wind now fused with fire, and all other trash came at him at once. In that complete instant, in that fraction of a second, he twisted his body, and the shadows surged forward suddenly, reaching and wrapping around him protectively. The shadows disperse in a bloom of blue-black smoke, and what’s left of the house is left to endure the fury of the Phoenix.


© Copyright 2020 bighead44. All rights reserved.

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