I'm gonna start writing more :I
Damnit, I am.
And I'm starting with random, unconnected drabbles. I'll try to do one a day. If they get annoying, let me know and I'll make a new livejournal for um.
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Two steps. One. Two. The gravel crunched beneath his soles, grinding into the ground and their open ears. The wind stole their shallow breaths, whisking it off to dance with moths across the night sky.
"We can't go back," said the older man. This was not something that could be forced, and as much as he wanted to take the two steps that separated them, he could not. Could not bridge the gap that his friend had created across the night path. Two thundering steps of sound and fear. His friend said nothing, but if he had, would the wind have swept it away, too? The wind would take them both before the night was finished. It whipped leaves into a frenzy against the invisible wall that separated them, curling into a tornado that said everything they couldn't. It spoke of a future with no sun. Of fear. Of guilt. It cut between them whispering and hissing with all their self-doubt.
One response was all he needed. One knife to cut across the chasm between them. One sign that he should jump. That he could reach the other side. But without that bridge, the two steps were an impossible feat.
One.
Two.
His friend said nothing, drawing the night closer around himself, and allowed the wind to sweep him into the darkness. The leaves cooled their whispers, watching with chilled eyes from the ground where they lay, and the night was still.
The man's jaw was tight as he looked into the trees, the gravel path growling with agony as he turned to leave.
"I don't need your pity," he whispered to the night, regarding it solemnly. The forest chuckled, branches clapping together as a gust raced through, scattering its leaf children from the path. Showing the way.
Forward.
And I'm starting with random, unconnected drabbles. I'll try to do one a day. If they get annoying, let me know and I'll make a new livejournal for um.
-----
Two steps. One. Two. The gravel crunched beneath his soles, grinding into the ground and their open ears. The wind stole their shallow breaths, whisking it off to dance with moths across the night sky.
"We can't go back," said the older man. This was not something that could be forced, and as much as he wanted to take the two steps that separated them, he could not. Could not bridge the gap that his friend had created across the night path. Two thundering steps of sound and fear. His friend said nothing, but if he had, would the wind have swept it away, too? The wind would take them both before the night was finished. It whipped leaves into a frenzy against the invisible wall that separated them, curling into a tornado that said everything they couldn't. It spoke of a future with no sun. Of fear. Of guilt. It cut between them whispering and hissing with all their self-doubt.
One response was all he needed. One knife to cut across the chasm between them. One sign that he should jump. That he could reach the other side. But without that bridge, the two steps were an impossible feat.
One.
Two.
His friend said nothing, drawing the night closer around himself, and allowed the wind to sweep him into the darkness. The leaves cooled their whispers, watching with chilled eyes from the ground where they lay, and the night was still.
The man's jaw was tight as he looked into the trees, the gravel path growling with agony as he turned to leave.
"I don't need your pity," he whispered to the night, regarding it solemnly. The forest chuckled, branches clapping together as a gust raced through, scattering its leaf children from the path. Showing the way.
Forward.