Part of an Elemental Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This was my intro for an elemental role-play.
Please give me comments, they are loved!

Submitted: August 07, 2008

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Submitted: August 07, 2008

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Winter was upon the land, depleted, withered trees stand contorted in the fissured dead earth, a thick, ominous chill twisted into what has been the pleasant summer breeze. More billowing clouds suffocated the atmosphere than ever before, occasional droplets of moisture descending from up above. The sun, ever so determined to break through the barrier of gloom, sent its fluorescent, prismatic rays slithering down to caress and warm the wastelands of Mother Earth, dappling the foregrounds of the woods, seemingly the origin of the diseased, dying gangly trees and growths. Every animal has said to have its niche and is able to adjust greatly to its environment. That is hardily the real truth.

Ahh. More rain. A sob broke from morbidly pale lips. Such a familiar sound to behold for the beholder. These momentary breaks in fade had failed to do any permanent damage; it was so routine, so monotonously the same that harm had passed long ago. Salty, flourishing tears leaving behind streaks of cleanliness about dirt stained sunken cheeks. A molten anger frothing beneath the surface, livid at the emotions that had turned a potent, self-sufficient human so feeble. Same reaction, same sequence of daily living…such a nagging wanting of change to come...

The splintering, rigid branch used as a make-shift pillow had not been cutting it. Neither had the poor natural construction of the slim leaves overhead. It barely counted as a roof. Ignorance is usually a bad thing. But when plentiful buckets of rain are toppled onto a half-asleep 16 year old girl stuck without a "REAL" home to embrace, ignoring some things never hurt. A tight bun of smoldering, phosphorescent stripes of gleaming gold and sparkling orange lay atop her head, slightly plastered to her forehead and such. Her eyelids torpidly opened, revealing what most folk ridiculed her of and what set her aside of the rest. Wide eyes, cold, charcoal pupils encircled by rings of flame, eyelashes dark and deep against the mottled abstract art of her irises. Her eyebrows, a normal tint of a dull, lifeless brown, arched high above her eyes, giving her a countenance a push toward an elegantly mysterious expression rather regal with her tiny curved hook of her nose, sharp jaw line and rounded chin.

"What a beautiful day."

Her voice was thick and coarse with an impending sarcasm, easing the slightest bit of pain away from her lonely heart, sheltered by a mere blanket, anelderly tree, and a forest with no love, no public,and not one, single person to talk to.


© Copyright 2020 UnspokenSoul22. All rights reserved.

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