Sometimes when you’re experimenting with different writing styles you go too far.

Whilst aiming for ‘abstract, strange yet meaningful’ this is something I came up with. I’ll give you a cookie if you can actually figure out what it’s subject is.

Legend

Trees stand stock still in shock.
Breeze struggles to breathe a breath.
The sun, a little under the clouds,
Throbs urine yellow, which is not encouraging.

White the colour of insane-asylum walls,
Eyes of the ferocious doe in the calmest storm,
A moment of clarity, epiphany divine,
An undignified, badly timed thump.

Time limps on, the breeze begins to breathe.
Trees shift nervously to tip-toe away,
Gossiping about their wild party yesterday,
With birds and bees and squirrels storing nuts.

Insane-asylum white limps on,
At a pace of three, muttering language of beasts.
Complaining, to the sky and sea,
Who never reply, and don’t believe anyway.

Horn, tooth, or obscene ceramic,
Tainted badly with the stain of life,
Glorious, wispy, balding hair,
Death in life, and soiled innocence.

The cavalry of legends,
Dusty from disbelief,
As we regard this war-weary creature
From a distance. Such a distance.

Where we can not comprehend.

I have a conundrum.

Oddly enough the choice of words for referring to a group of three or four young women in my story didn’t bother me the first time round. The group would be referred to as either:

• they
• the girls or
• the four of them.

None of which feel very professional or correct as I read through this time. In speech it gets worse, the group being referred to loosely as ‘you guys’ when really they aren’t guys at all, but the term feels more natural to me. Even though I can’t help feeling like it shouldn’t.

The obvious alternative phrase (which I definitely haven’t used as yet) is ‘the women’. But I can’t help noticing that I have avoided using that phrase for a number of reasons. Read the rest of this entry »

  See, I did write something while I was away.

The four led their horses through the woods, Veltra leading the way. Occasionally she would stop and look thoughtfully at a tree or boulder, and then continue.
“What is this gate going to look like?” Jesse asked Detra as Veltra paid particular attention to a twisted oak tree. Jesse had a very clear mental image of what a magical gate should look like; weathered stone arches in a ray of sunlight and an aura of silence. Veltra seemed more interested in trees.
“Gates hare hidden,” Detra explained quietly, “They’re not going to be a big stone arch in a sunbeam. They are more like a fortuitous summation of natural objects that create the right pattern. They appear to be there by chance, but they’re not.”
“Of course, sometimes a tree is just a tree,” added Trill.
“This could be one,” Veltra said, stepping back from the tree she had been inspecting. A straight silver birth stood a meter or so away from an older oak. Their branches entwined and leaves mixed above them. On the ground partially exposed roots also seemed to reach from one tree to the other.
“How can you tell?” Jesse asked.
“There is a secret contained within the magic pattern,” said Veltra. “Also, the shadows from the trees are in different directions.” Jesse looked closely at the two trees which apparently made up the gate. Their shadows ran almost perpendicular to each other, meeting a few steps through the arch they made. Trill let go of Storm’s reigns and approached the silver birch.
“There’s another clue,” she said, walking around the tree and disappearing. She reappeared on the other side of the oak.
“It’s a painted vision. It doesn’t change for people.”
“You could just wait for a dragon to leap out of it too,” suggested Detra, slightly less helpfully. “When is it open?”
“I think I remember when I came here,” offered Jesse. “The world became dark and all the lights were flashing. There was a ripple in a wall, as though it was made of water.” She looked around. “Although I guess flashing lights aren’t very relevant here.”
“The gate is already open,” said Veltra. “You can just walk though.”
“To whatever dragons are waiting to eat you on the other side,” Trill added.
“Be a little more optimistic,” Detra suggested.
“Okay. Maybe there’ll be two dragons!” Detra sighed tiredly.
“You can go through,” Veltra reminded her.
“Go on, this was your idea,” urged Trill. Detra hesitated for the briefest second, then regally approached the gate, Eclipse following behind her. Then she reached the merged shadows of the trees the air around her began to wobble uncertainly. The sun moved behind a cloud, and Detra seemed to sink into an invisible barrier. The ripple settled out a moment later, and the scene returned to normal.
“Is she through?” asked Trill.
“Almost certainly.”
“Quick, let’s get out of here while we’ve got the chance!” Trill laughed. Veltra glared at her before grasping Blizzard’s reigns and slowly leading him through the gate, speaking softly to the large horse as they went.
“You know Jesse, I think I’ll miss you when you go home,” said Trill thoughtfully as she watched the back end of Blizzard disappear.
“Aw, thanks Trill,” Jesse replied. “I’ll miss you too,”
“Of course you will, I’m great like that. Now it’s your turn.” Jesse turned to face the gate and braced herself as she led Dasher through it. Walking through the gate felt like entering an air conditioned room; the air was suddenly chilled and fresh. The world as she could see it became blurred and ghostly, like underexposed film. As she walked on clarity returned, revealing a different place with Deltra and Veltra waiting for her. The heat hit her like a slap in the face.
“Gees, it’s humid!” Jesse observed.
“Well what were you expecting? Snow?”
“I guess not.”