Just_Red
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Despite the fact that there is a series, it will continue every other week, this week will just be a short story, cause I like making them. The majority of my stories, this is a sad secret of mine, are rewrites of past stories I've written when I was younger. For some reason writing now as a growing teen, is a lot harder for me. So just getting into the habit, even if it is rewrites of my old tales is an accomplishment in itself. Anyway, enough of me, lets get started on this story:
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It is a cold dark night in the valley stream. The night is quite, not a single squeak, nothing dares to move or breath. Everything only stands in the bright moonlight, mimicking that of sun. The clouds themselves are gray with rain but too scared to pour. The river, trying to be unnoticed rushes quietly bare without life, not a single organism dare swims in its banks. Grass, the same, only basks in the moon light while bare as the river. All that resembles an animate thing lays awkward in the inanimate environment around it. Its silky black wavy hair contrasts its face that reflects the moonlight giving the color pale white. The clothes, black and brown, are burned and ripped all around. Its blue eyes which glow like blue flames dart and scan hungrily across the river bed. Scanning for food it hopes will arrive, yet knows will never approach it. The being hungry beyond understanding, lifts its head and scans the surroundings finding the same as it found in the river bed: nothing. Just a cold quiet valley. The valley itself sits quietly waiting for the being to move, hoping the being will move but the being unlike the many nights before seemed insistent on staying. The being sat there waiting, yearning for a taste, a sight, a feel of just a thing to feast on. Is that too much to ask, it asks itself. Then to world, it echos the same question: but nothing dares respond, nothing dares breathe. For all that lives does not have food when it is for it, for it, is death itself.
**Short read. I know. But when compared to my other stories, its a lot less dialogue driven. So a lot more emphasis was put onto the moment, and description of things.
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It is a cold dark night in the valley stream. The night is quite, not a single squeak, nothing dares to move or breath. Everything only stands in the bright moonlight, mimicking that of sun. The clouds themselves are gray with rain but too scared to pour. The river, trying to be unnoticed rushes quietly bare without life, not a single organism dare swims in its banks. Grass, the same, only basks in the moon light while bare as the river. All that resembles an animate thing lays awkward in the inanimate environment around it. Its silky black wavy hair contrasts its face that reflects the moonlight giving the color pale white. The clothes, black and brown, are burned and ripped all around. Its blue eyes which glow like blue flames dart and scan hungrily across the river bed. Scanning for food it hopes will arrive, yet knows will never approach it. The being hungry beyond understanding, lifts its head and scans the surroundings finding the same as it found in the river bed: nothing. Just a cold quiet valley. The valley itself sits quietly waiting for the being to move, hoping the being will move but the being unlike the many nights before seemed insistent on staying. The being sat there waiting, yearning for a taste, a sight, a feel of just a thing to feast on. Is that too much to ask, it asks itself. Then to world, it echos the same question: but nothing dares respond, nothing dares breathe. For all that lives does not have food when it is for it, for it, is death itself.
**Short read. I know. But when compared to my other stories, its a lot less dialogue driven. So a lot more emphasis was put onto the moment, and description of things.
