View Full Version : Ashes Fall Like Rain.
Black clouds floated over head, skipping across a rust red sky. The wind whispered between bent and battered birch and pine, scattering needles and spores over loamy soil.
Bugs, ants, spiders, beetles and other sundry denizens of the silent order of life scurried and scittered about.
Within moments ash fell from the sky, dusting the land in a hazy grey mist.
Slowly the silent grey rain fell, gathering momentum, drifts feet deep quickly gathered within boughs, trenches and ditches, pools of sedentary water turned to a quick cement, trapping dragonflies and mosquitoes within it's tremulous embrace.
No beasts larger than a hand wandered the land, no sound louder than a crickets chirp stirred the silence.
A swollen red orb dominated the sky, bristling with malevolence.
Life existed, barely.
From the protection of the lonely copse a barren wasteland of mud and blistered rock stretched to the horizon where a mountain of structures interrupted the view.
Concrete edifices, sparsely populated by glistening panes of glass and sunken sockets of night stood erect and lonely, testament to a rampant intelligence.
Twisted metal shapes littered the ground at the feet of the concrete monsters. Bloated skins of tattered fabric floundered in the breeze.
Between the scudding clouds of ash a silver angel descended, it's shimmering elongated body and windswept wings slicing through the grey sleet. As it neared the broken earth a sound as of splintering bones reached the denizens of the forest, those that could hear. The noise became a roar, a crescendo of sound reveberating across the land, sending eerie clouds of grey dust on a tumultous errand away from the source of sound.
If time had a name in this place, hours would have passed after the angel settled to the ground.
The body of the angel ticked and moaned, small fires of pine needle burnt randomly about it's form.
Eventually an opening within the belly of the beast irised open and a bipedal form strode forth.
Man stood at last on another land, one many lifetimes from his own.
mojo
Chorlton
10-24-2009, 05:25 AM
Sounds just like someone getting out at Canberra Airport ?
Sounds just like someone getting out at Canberra Airport ?
difference with canberra is that the insects are the size of politicians.
boycotteverything
10-24-2009, 08:53 PM
Black clouds floated over head, skipping across a rust red sky. The wind whispered between bent, [s:1ooc3h3a]and[/s:1ooc3h3a] battered birch and pine, scattering needles and [s:1ooc3h3a]spores[/s:1ooc3h3a]leaves over loamy soil.
Bugs, ants, spiders, beetles [s:1ooc3h3a]and other sundry denizens of the silent order of life scurried and[/s:1ooc3h3a] skittered about.
Within moments ash fell from the sky, dusting the land [s:1ooc3h3a]in a[/s:1ooc3h3a] hazy grey. [s:1ooc3h3a]mist.[/s:1ooc3h3a]
[s:1ooc3h3a]Slowly the silent[/s:1ooc3h3a] Grey rain began to fall, gathering momentum, rising [s:1ooc3h3a]feet[/s:1ooc3h3a] deep, [s:1ooc3h3a]quickly[/s:1ooc3h3a] gathering quickly, within boughs, within the trenches and ditches; pools of [s:1ooc3h3a]sedentary[/s:1ooc3h3a]stagnant water turning to a quick cement, trapping dragonflies and mosquitoes within it's tremulous embrace.
No beasts larger than a hand wandered the land, no sound louder than a cricket's chirp stirred the silence.
A swollen red orb dominated the sky, bristling with malevolence.
Life existed, barely.
From the protection of the lonely copse a barren wasteland of mud and blistered rock stretched to the horizon where a mountain of structures interrupted the view.
Concrete edifices, sparsely populated by glistening panes of glass and sunken sockets of night stood erect and lonely, testament to a rampant intelligence.
Twisted metal shapes littered the ground at the feet of the concrete monsters. Bloated skins of tattered fabric floundered in the breeze.
Between the scudding clouds of ash a silver angel descended, it's shimmering elongated body and windswept wings slicing through the [s:1ooc3h3a]grey[/s:1ooc3h3a]hoary sleet. As it neared the broken earth a sound as of splintering bones reached the denizens of the forest, those that could hear. The noise became a roar, a crescendo of sound reverberating across the land, sending eerie clouds of grey dust on a tumultuous errand away from the source of sound.
If time had a name in this place, hours would have passed after the angel settled to the ground.
The body of the angel ticked and moaned, small fires of pine needle burnt randomly about it's form.
Eventually an opening within the belly of the beast irised open and a bipedal form strode forth.
Man stood at last on another land, one many lifetimes from his own.
mojo
fixt
excellent
i'll fuck my own work up any way i want thanks. :)
particularly as i'm generally off my tits when i write and edit.
:lol:
boycotteverything
10-25-2009, 01:15 AM
an editor is a second pair of eyes. all good books are edited.
all good books are edited.
mores the pity.
second chances are for suckers.
Cogburn
10-25-2009, 02:34 PM
No one ever creates a masterpiece on their own.
Editors are the unsung heroes of literature.
No one ever creates a masterpiece on their own.
Editors are the unsung heroes of literature.
yeah but you generally get to choose who does your editing.
and i'd argue that not all editing improves a body of work.
cartoon
10-25-2009, 07:14 PM
none of my edits changed the intent or the spirit of the piece. they served much like a liver- purifying it by filtering out the alcohol and drugs. hahahahahaha! read the result and enjoy.
I figured you'd thank me for pointing out this sort of useless verbosity-
Bugs, ants, spiders, beetles and other sundry denizens of the silent order of life scurried and skittered about. and distilling it to this-
Bugs, ants, spiders, beetles skittered about.
I figured you'd thank me for pointing out this sort of useless verbosity-
haha....i should thank you for pointing out useless verbosity, thats ironic.
perhaps i should go back and edit some of your posts on philosophy then. :P
but whatever, if i'd wanted it to be simplified i would have written it that way, you and anyone else however can choose to read it anyway you want.
what is overly verbose for some might be stimulating for others.
which is my point regarding editing, some editorial interference contains inherent biases that the author may not have envisioned in the construct of their work.
and i prefered it the way i wrote it, it was deliberately written in that vein, even if you don't like the way it was done, thats fine.
once ive done my initial edits immediately after finishing, i don't like to make any further changes, sometimes even leaving errors in on purpose when i discover them at a later date.
in fact my "roach boy" story has had an error in it since it was first posted on ats 18 months ago, i've since posted it multiple times at other places without correcting the error.
cartoon
10-25-2009, 08:53 PM
perhaps i should go back and edit some of your posts on philosophy then.i'd consider that a great honor- not for the least that it would indicate that you had actually read them. i do you that honor routinely. ...you're welcome
perhaps i should go back and edit some of your posts on philosophy then.i'd consider that a great honor- not for the least that it would indicate that you had actually read them. i do you that honor routinely. ...you're welcome
of course i read them.
and agree and disagree in almost equal part.
hence blah blah blah wank wank wank. lol.
but you understand the point, verbosity or simplification are tools used to construct that character of the work, whether written or spoken.
the story above was deliberately constructed with an abundance of adjectives, it may not be needed grammatically but at the time of writing and during editing i chose to leave it as is.
no biggie, like i said, people can choose to read it and like or dislike the way its been written and edited, but at least, even if only in my mind, they will like it or dislike it purely based on what i have written and removed or left in from the original draft.
it's rather selfish, but it's my body of work.
the criticism however is welcome, particularly as its given birth to a good discussion on editing, hahaha.
cartoon
10-25-2009, 09:07 PM
the criticism however is welcomeit came from a pure place. if it offended- i'm sorry. and please notice that my original post ended with the word- "excellent"
the criticism however is welcomeit came from a pure place. if it offended- i'm sorry.
hahaha...no offence.
was interesting, subconsciously i didn't realise how i felt about editing my work.
i thought when i left the error in 'roach boy" that it was done as some sort of challenge for a reader to pick up on, but now i'm not so sure.
cartoon
10-25-2009, 09:16 PM
editing is an act of love. what it means is that the work has been read, considered and joined.
editing is an act of love. what it means is that the work has been read, considered and joined.
that may well be true.
it's not necesarily going to be an improvement to the story though.
particulalry if the intent of the work is changed from one that was done deliberately.
like a sculpture that is displayed publically and without barriers so that the texture of the stone can be felt and the lines admired from close proximity, and a sculpture kept under tight security because of its inherent value, and a sculpture that is deliberatly placed behind a barrier by the sculptor so that the audience has to view it from a distance without using other sensory input.
so can a written piece be used to deliberately elicit a certain response from the audience, sometimes editing would remove that barrier and allow the work to be touched when its intent was to be viewed from a distance.
ummm...i think that made sense. :)