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[shadowsinfire]

Give me:

1. A line from a song or a poem.
2. The title of a book.
3. A color.
4. An emotion.
5. An animal.

And I will write you a slice of original fiction.

Comments

[shiegra]

1. The summer climaxed in Santa Anas
2. Atonement
3. amber
4. resentment
5. ocelot

[shadowsinfire]

The wind is starting to change. It's not something that happens suddenly, not here; but it is something he notices suddenly, soon after midday in the concrete and khaki maze of the city's zoo. He can taste the change, now he knows it's there: the change doesn't happen suddenly, but it accelerates

[shiegra]

Oooh. I love this; the feeling of strangeness and anticipation, and his rather sarcastic ease in the world. The whole feel of the piece is lovely.

I just love this bit: He knows what comes next: days of wind, the city balanced between hysteria and anarchy, and then the shaken aftermath, two-toned and honey coloured under the returning smog. The word choice is just so fabulous.

[shadowsinfire]

Thank you! I'm glad you like it.

That bit you quoted is an interesting bit, actually - the first half of it I thought about quite hard, but the second half was sort of unconscious, and I wrote it without really thinking about the words.

[dawnduskdancer]

1. I've dreamt so long I cannot dream any more
2. The Invisible Path
3. Turquoise
4. Exhilarated
5. Deer

[shadowsinfire]

She woke slowly, only half aware of the living wood curled around her. The chair the sat in (slept in, dreamt in) was made of it, bark rough against her bare arms. The light, when she opened her eyes (just a little, just a little, she remembered that much) was bright, bright grey. No colour.

She sat at the base of a large tree, bare branches covered in moss, roots only partially concealed by brown (-grey) earth and white (white, white, white, but she's not cold, so it can't be -) pink tinged, purple edged, but not that, which she heard one language had forty words for, but for which she has none