'Letting the wings unfurl; and for a moment I feel young'
So, I got bored. And practically everyone I know has been talking about NaNoWriMo. It's not something I'm about to partake in. I don't write. But the creative juices will stir every now and then, and I'll long for having better skills in that area. It's always horribly difficult and never flows. =(
About a week ago, just messing around on the interwebz, I stumbled across a 'Cube' reading... thing. It was interesting, to say the least. I didn't learn anything new about myself (that's not really the point of it), but it was intriguing to see how each piece fit together. I enjoyed it quite a bit. So, to get out my desire to "write" something, here's my Cube. Not that more than like, one of you actually know what I'm bloody talking about. 8D;
The cube laid there; pristine on the cracked, orange sand. The desert was scorching, but beginning to cool off. The sun had just settled in for the night, leaving us in a permanent state of twilight. Reds, oranges, and yellows still struggled to illuminate the skies. However, the central core of the transparent, crystal cube shined the brightest. Golden beams shot out, glowing in the highest glory. It's yards in front of me, too far out of reach, but I'm mesmerized by it. How delicately it sweeps across the sun kissed sand, as if it's floating just above the surface. I looked around, eyeing the never-ending stretch of sand, before noticing the rope held in my left hand. I raised it towards the sky to inspect it further. This tattered and splintered rope was a ladder. My heart went out to it, wondering what it was once apart of. Wanting to fix and put back together every broken strand. It was only a few feet long, with maybe a dozen rungs to it, most of which have been split, torn, and ripped apart. I clutched it tighter, and pulled it close to my side. The sound of hooves up to my right caught my attention. Whipping around, the sight of a black horse startled me. He was barely an animal. Not quite living, but not quite dead. His tangled mane fluttered, despite the stale air. Wisps of black cloth lightly hung from his body. Rusted metal guarded him. The shields no longer captured light, only further collecting shadows across his frail frame. What was once a noble horse was now part machine. His icy, blue eyes peered down at me. He stomped his hoof again impatiently, snorting. Grey smoke swirled around, up into the air. He was beckoning me, just out of reach. But there was a darkness creeping up. Angry storm clouds were billowing in from behind the horse. The rain was harsh, the wind was brutal. Tornadoes, lightening, all was disrupting the sand, causing chaos. It was the End occurring. Heading right for me. The closer it came, the more urgent and desperate my horse was becoming. My horse... I was it's rider. And he was aimed straight for the middle of the storm. Before I could take action, the last pieces appeared. Tiny flowers that skittered across the entirety of the desert. They were small, sickly little things. As if a young child had reached in and drew these simple pink and purple flowers to appease it. Despite their appearance, their roots were strong - reaching up towards the sun, in between the cracks of the hard, dried sand.
With one last sweep across the desert, I felt a sense of purpose.
And in that moment... It was gone.
About a week ago, just messing around on the interwebz, I stumbled across a 'Cube' reading... thing. It was interesting, to say the least. I didn't learn anything new about myself (that's not really the point of it), but it was intriguing to see how each piece fit together. I enjoyed it quite a bit. So, to get out my desire to "write" something, here's my Cube. Not that more than like, one of you actually know what I'm bloody talking about. 8D;
The cube laid there; pristine on the cracked, orange sand. The desert was scorching, but beginning to cool off. The sun had just settled in for the night, leaving us in a permanent state of twilight. Reds, oranges, and yellows still struggled to illuminate the skies. However, the central core of the transparent, crystal cube shined the brightest. Golden beams shot out, glowing in the highest glory. It's yards in front of me, too far out of reach, but I'm mesmerized by it. How delicately it sweeps across the sun kissed sand, as if it's floating just above the surface. I looked around, eyeing the never-ending stretch of sand, before noticing the rope held in my left hand. I raised it towards the sky to inspect it further. This tattered and splintered rope was a ladder. My heart went out to it, wondering what it was once apart of. Wanting to fix and put back together every broken strand. It was only a few feet long, with maybe a dozen rungs to it, most of which have been split, torn, and ripped apart. I clutched it tighter, and pulled it close to my side. The sound of hooves up to my right caught my attention. Whipping around, the sight of a black horse startled me. He was barely an animal. Not quite living, but not quite dead. His tangled mane fluttered, despite the stale air. Wisps of black cloth lightly hung from his body. Rusted metal guarded him. The shields no longer captured light, only further collecting shadows across his frail frame. What was once a noble horse was now part machine. His icy, blue eyes peered down at me. He stomped his hoof again impatiently, snorting. Grey smoke swirled around, up into the air. He was beckoning me, just out of reach. But there was a darkness creeping up. Angry storm clouds were billowing in from behind the horse. The rain was harsh, the wind was brutal. Tornadoes, lightening, all was disrupting the sand, causing chaos. It was the End occurring. Heading right for me. The closer it came, the more urgent and desperate my horse was becoming. My horse... I was it's rider. And he was aimed straight for the middle of the storm. Before I could take action, the last pieces appeared. Tiny flowers that skittered across the entirety of the desert. They were small, sickly little things. As if a young child had reached in and drew these simple pink and purple flowers to appease it. Despite their appearance, their roots were strong - reaching up towards the sun, in between the cracks of the hard, dried sand.
With one last sweep across the desert, I felt a sense of purpose.
And in that moment... It was gone.