I said have a MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!
Traditionally, I am an author. A BAD author, but an author nonetheless.
Because it is hard to write at school and still follow a conversation, I'm also traditionally an artist. A BAD artist, more of a doodler than anything else, but an artist. Simple. I sketch out some lines for something random-a weird little dragon hopping up and down, a griffin stooping on a sauropod, hunting Allosaurs-or something less random-a sketch of one of my characters, a drawing of a T-Rex that someone asked me to do-and then, that's it. I dust off the eraser scraps and THE LINES LIE STILL.
Seriously. They don't move. They don't hop off the page and continue drawing themselves. If the little creature I have drawn begins chirping at me and chewing on my gyrii and otherwise trying to get all the attention it can, I will go write about it.
Such is the natural way of things.
But now- now! I can't escape! Noooooo!! I'm being drawn into the seductive world of graphic novels (the novels themselves aren't seductive, mind you- just the method).
I knew bad things were going down when my two classic non-fanfic stories started getting Panels written out... *sigh*
So, now I feel like I'm some weird doppelganger who just stepped into the author's life. I dunno. The world used to be so certain- deliniated, "I am an author!!! and I doodle! ^_^" and now... now...
Ugh.
Well! Story for y'all!
They sat in the stone temple, cracks running through its mighty pillars. Water lapped gently on the stone tile around their feet. The air was warm and restless.
She leaned back; he did likewise next to her on the stones of the temple's threshold; the white stone like an eggshell.
"The stars are gone now." she pointed out. The water was clear, warm and eternal near the temple, shallow where it lapped the stones, fathoms deep and clear to the bottom as it fell away from the white stones; dark as the black sky above, dark as the unknown and infinity and cold.
He stretched his long arms over his head and exhaled the warm air in a gentle snort through his nostrils.
"You know if the others are alive or not?" he asked. She shook her head, smiling slightly.
"End of the world, love. Not something knowable. Alive, dead? Here, gone? What is anything?" She trailed her finger in the deep water outside of the temple. It sparkled as though sunlit, though the sky above was dark as death's eyes. A warm breeze slid softly past, bearing the scent of orange trees in full blossom; heather and lavender in the sun. It was not an ocean but a lake.
"It is you and me."
Who spoke it and who listened?
It did not matter.
It was the end of the world.
***
The last tower was an edifice crumbling into the great ocean. Waves crashed upon it, and a grim rain was falling.
"This it?" he asked.
"It." she replied laconically. A cold wind kicked up, driving rain into her nostrils.
The sky was a silver void, rippling with iridescence above them. They were on the inside of an oyster.
He stood tall and proud, letting the rain fall on him and transform him into a statue of the end. She loved him so deeply its depth came not to the bottom of her heart but the bones of her toes, the skin beneath that, spilling into the ground. Her breath took in the moist air of the sea, cold as the bones of the devil.
"Is she coming soon?" he asked.
"Soon." she said.
"We have time." he said, and left his stance to sit behind her.
Behind them a sunset erupted, carrying the scent of orange blossoms, then vanished.
The cold rain fell.
The wind was bitter as winter and wet as a river-bed.
***
She ran through the stars, bounding like moonlight. Light pooled around her footsteps, and she called for the glory for the soul of the night-dark not-time not-space not-night not-day not-sun not-rain not-still.
The spirits ran from her mighty form. Once or twice a slight glow like a wil-o'-the-wisp would knock into her side in a futile gesture of violence or contempt. Her movement was faster than thought, fast as spirit, and the faded star would fall like insects crushed by moutains.
She was the noble. The world lay before her, connected and entwined. Orange blossoms drifted beneath her feet, and storm-clouds raged; rivers raged and swirled and the circled bands of gold and silver met and flowed into a color unknowable by human gaze.
She howled again, and the sun burst into the night sky beside her; running over vast desert, the moon in all phases and the sun bright, the sun dim, the sun hot, and distant as wintertime.
It is time for your journey.
She turned and bounded away.
***
The island's shore was littered with bones. He kicked one away into the ocean where it sank with a silent ripple.
There was no sound here save breathing.
He looked out across the long expanse of glittering water before him, paced a while; the rocks floated above the waves; the gentle waves bespoke an ocean nothing had ever resided in before or after, an ocean where the moon had sunk within long ago, and there was only the sun shining distantly forever.
He didn't need to hear noise. Now was for the waiting; it might be forever, but it would never cease expectancy. Perhaps it was Afterlife. It was still, and pale. The white gleamed in a sun that did not need to be there. He looked up.
It was.
The air did not move. Nothing moved.
Behind him was a forest that had never been alive until now; no life stirred leaves or branches that were not truly real.
Last.
***
She crouched in the skeleton and hissed to the sky. The stars glimmed faintly above her. There was nothing there but the bones and the sky and her.
She strained herself to keep the world in place a further while. Dim shapes lay around her as though through thick, grainy fog.
The bones were as big as the world; as big as the rest of the world over, without themselves.
Sleep was coming sometime soon. She looked back up to the sky and saw a meteor shoot across it.
Impossible she thought, but then what was the end of the world but?
A cold diamond scattered on the dusty ground beside her with a slight clitter. The next not-even-second, as though forever, dusty, dusky gems lay on the ancient stone.
The world is dying.
***
The world was chunks of stone. They came and left in waves. They broke and shifted like continents. She remained beneath them, clutching a fragment of sharp glass in on hand.
There was no day night warmth cold stillness motion world life death besides the continental slide of stone around her. She felt as ancient as the stars, and filled with a steady fire as them too.
Time for you as well.
***
She took to the world on silver wings as the words came for her, saw the islands laid out below, archipellagoes and deltas and great shining expanses of gently-rippled water and still clear water and blackwater and palewater and shores of dark and light and buildings of strange character, sitting crumbled into the ocean.
The world was warm beneath her wings as she rose.
I will not come yet
a cry against the moon the stars the night, the irresistable force of the world yet she resisted, dove, lengthened her body to float past, scattering water meant to lie still forevermore, saw rocky shores, sandy shores and water beyond all imagining, water to end the world though it was ended yet.
she wandered for years and years, calling in joy, until the yellow eyes almost like her own, but wiser and more headstrong and kinder and more savage, looked up at her from the waves
Come
and she left
trailing
feathers
in
the
air.
***
She left; he left.
***
They were strange the travellers. Singing a song of silence they came rocketing through the air they would always wander.
They twisted their bodies like nothing alive, spinning through the air like the course of the air, eyes slit-shaped pools of infinite calm.
It is now time
Memories exploded in her mind. A warrior trumpeted a defiant sound of victory or last-battle. Beasts roared and clashed in a pit stained with blood. The stars glittered overhead. The scent of chocolate. The scrape of an eggshell beneath her claws...
she climbed through space and void, past stars and those who pursued them, skipped past the land of all secrets and into a cupped home and out into the sand and the bright white light.
***
She came; he left.
The world was foreverstill.
***
Eight characters. You figure it out if you can.
Because it is hard to write at school and still follow a conversation, I'm also traditionally an artist. A BAD artist, more of a doodler than anything else, but an artist. Simple. I sketch out some lines for something random-a weird little dragon hopping up and down, a griffin stooping on a sauropod, hunting Allosaurs-or something less random-a sketch of one of my characters, a drawing of a T-Rex that someone asked me to do-and then, that's it. I dust off the eraser scraps and THE LINES LIE STILL.
Seriously. They don't move. They don't hop off the page and continue drawing themselves. If the little creature I have drawn begins chirping at me and chewing on my gyrii and otherwise trying to get all the attention it can, I will go write about it.
Such is the natural way of things.
But now- now! I can't escape! Noooooo!! I'm being drawn into the seductive world of graphic novels (the novels themselves aren't seductive, mind you- just the method).
I knew bad things were going down when my two classic non-fanfic stories started getting Panels written out... *sigh*
So, now I feel like I'm some weird doppelganger who just stepped into the author's life. I dunno. The world used to be so certain- deliniated, "I am an author!!! and I doodle! ^_^" and now... now...
Ugh.
Well! Story for y'all!
They sat in the stone temple, cracks running through its mighty pillars. Water lapped gently on the stone tile around their feet. The air was warm and restless.
She leaned back; he did likewise next to her on the stones of the temple's threshold; the white stone like an eggshell.
"The stars are gone now." she pointed out. The water was clear, warm and eternal near the temple, shallow where it lapped the stones, fathoms deep and clear to the bottom as it fell away from the white stones; dark as the black sky above, dark as the unknown and infinity and cold.
He stretched his long arms over his head and exhaled the warm air in a gentle snort through his nostrils.
"You know if the others are alive or not?" he asked. She shook her head, smiling slightly.
"End of the world, love. Not something knowable. Alive, dead? Here, gone? What is anything?" She trailed her finger in the deep water outside of the temple. It sparkled as though sunlit, though the sky above was dark as death's eyes. A warm breeze slid softly past, bearing the scent of orange trees in full blossom; heather and lavender in the sun. It was not an ocean but a lake.
"It is you and me."
Who spoke it and who listened?
It did not matter.
It was the end of the world.
***
The last tower was an edifice crumbling into the great ocean. Waves crashed upon it, and a grim rain was falling.
"This it?" he asked.
"It." she replied laconically. A cold wind kicked up, driving rain into her nostrils.
The sky was a silver void, rippling with iridescence above them. They were on the inside of an oyster.
He stood tall and proud, letting the rain fall on him and transform him into a statue of the end. She loved him so deeply its depth came not to the bottom of her heart but the bones of her toes, the skin beneath that, spilling into the ground. Her breath took in the moist air of the sea, cold as the bones of the devil.
"Is she coming soon?" he asked.
"Soon." she said.
"We have time." he said, and left his stance to sit behind her.
Behind them a sunset erupted, carrying the scent of orange blossoms, then vanished.
The cold rain fell.
The wind was bitter as winter and wet as a river-bed.
***
She ran through the stars, bounding like moonlight. Light pooled around her footsteps, and she called for the glory for the soul of the night-dark not-time not-space not-night not-day not-sun not-rain not-still.
The spirits ran from her mighty form. Once or twice a slight glow like a wil-o'-the-wisp would knock into her side in a futile gesture of violence or contempt. Her movement was faster than thought, fast as spirit, and the faded star would fall like insects crushed by moutains.
She was the noble. The world lay before her, connected and entwined. Orange blossoms drifted beneath her feet, and storm-clouds raged; rivers raged and swirled and the circled bands of gold and silver met and flowed into a color unknowable by human gaze.
She howled again, and the sun burst into the night sky beside her; running over vast desert, the moon in all phases and the sun bright, the sun dim, the sun hot, and distant as wintertime.
It is time for your journey.
She turned and bounded away.
***
The island's shore was littered with bones. He kicked one away into the ocean where it sank with a silent ripple.
There was no sound here save breathing.
He looked out across the long expanse of glittering water before him, paced a while; the rocks floated above the waves; the gentle waves bespoke an ocean nothing had ever resided in before or after, an ocean where the moon had sunk within long ago, and there was only the sun shining distantly forever.
He didn't need to hear noise. Now was for the waiting; it might be forever, but it would never cease expectancy. Perhaps it was Afterlife. It was still, and pale. The white gleamed in a sun that did not need to be there. He looked up.
It was.
The air did not move. Nothing moved.
Behind him was a forest that had never been alive until now; no life stirred leaves or branches that were not truly real.
Last.
***
She crouched in the skeleton and hissed to the sky. The stars glimmed faintly above her. There was nothing there but the bones and the sky and her.
She strained herself to keep the world in place a further while. Dim shapes lay around her as though through thick, grainy fog.
The bones were as big as the world; as big as the rest of the world over, without themselves.
Sleep was coming sometime soon. She looked back up to the sky and saw a meteor shoot across it.
Impossible she thought, but then what was the end of the world but?
A cold diamond scattered on the dusty ground beside her with a slight clitter. The next not-even-second, as though forever, dusty, dusky gems lay on the ancient stone.
The world is dying.
***
The world was chunks of stone. They came and left in waves. They broke and shifted like continents. She remained beneath them, clutching a fragment of sharp glass in on hand.
There was no day night warmth cold stillness motion world life death besides the continental slide of stone around her. She felt as ancient as the stars, and filled with a steady fire as them too.
Time for you as well.
***
She took to the world on silver wings as the words came for her, saw the islands laid out below, archipellagoes and deltas and great shining expanses of gently-rippled water and still clear water and blackwater and palewater and shores of dark and light and buildings of strange character, sitting crumbled into the ocean.
The world was warm beneath her wings as she rose.
I will not come yet
a cry against the moon the stars the night, the irresistable force of the world yet she resisted, dove, lengthened her body to float past, scattering water meant to lie still forevermore, saw rocky shores, sandy shores and water beyond all imagining, water to end the world though it was ended yet.
she wandered for years and years, calling in joy, until the yellow eyes almost like her own, but wiser and more headstrong and kinder and more savage, looked up at her from the waves
Come
and she left
trailing
feathers
in
the
air.
***
She left; he left.
***
They were strange the travellers. Singing a song of silence they came rocketing through the air they would always wander.
They twisted their bodies like nothing alive, spinning through the air like the course of the air, eyes slit-shaped pools of infinite calm.
It is now time
Memories exploded in her mind. A warrior trumpeted a defiant sound of victory or last-battle. Beasts roared and clashed in a pit stained with blood. The stars glittered overhead. The scent of chocolate. The scrape of an eggshell beneath her claws...
she climbed through space and void, past stars and those who pursued them, skipped past the land of all secrets and into a cupped home and out into the sand and the bright white light.
***
She came; he left.
The world was foreverstill.
***
Eight characters. You figure it out if you can.