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Rainbow Reflections |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN 
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Critiques and comments are greatly appreciated on this! Also... If you get any meaning out of this, I'd love to hear what you think! The sun was just cresting the somber hills of the horizon. Its tender rays caressed the poor adobe of the village, enfolding the scene in liquid gold. The gossamer sound of spring silence was broken only by a lone bird’s song and the bleating of a flock on the graze. A second bird joined the first then a third and by the time the sun had hefted it’s bulk clear of the horizon, the songs of a myriad birds had joined the first. The sound of drowsy humans on the rise began to fill the air. The light clatter of cookware was muffled by still air and voices began to whisper, fearful of shattering the morning still. A rough hewn, weather grayed wooden door swung slowly open and from the open portal stepped the extraordinary normalcy of the household daughter. In her pale hand she clasped the wire handle of a time-dulled wooden bucket. Her head tilted back ever so slightly and her nostrils flared as she drew in a breath of cool, dew scented air. Brilliant emerald eyes twinkled merrily and the corners of the mouth twisted up in a heartfelt smile. Her feet carried her then from the doorway. She floated down the packed dust of the street, her dress swishing, giving tiny glimpses of slim ankle and demure feet. Her path wound between the golden adobe and pale gray wood of the village houses. She tread the dusty path through the dried grasses and tiny clouds of dust rose up to cover her feet. Her destination was a ring of brilliant emerald, a wheel of lush lawn with a hub in the form of an ancient well, hardly more than a large pool. The well was a structure of red brick, the brink of which stood just below the woman’s waist. She lifted herself onto the time worn edge and looked into the mirrored surface. She trailed a slim hand adorned with a single silver ring through the crystalline water. The sun fell on her shoulder in liquid rays, warming her smooth shoulders and flowing down her back. A gentle warmth flared by memories filled her. Beginnings of a spring zephyr came in off the hills and carried her thoughts on high. Her hand traced flowing patterns of rippling glass that glimmered in the warm light of the sun. The fading glory of summer memories and rainbow dreams filled her mind. Ethereal visions floating in the vaults of her mind, twisting and reshaping but seeking no true form. Flying before the edge of conscience, seen but never completely understood. The woman’s wandering mind was shocked back by the sudden loss of weight on her hand. The unadorned silver ring had slipped off her finger and was now rapidly descending in a glinting silver spiral. The slim hand lunged beneath the surface in a final act of desperation but it only resulted in the dampening of her vibrant dress and the dampening of her mood. Tears slid down the porcelain pale face as the silver glint descended into darkness. Her limp form slid over the harsh stone and she crumpled to the ground in a pile of brilliant cloth. Surrounded by the brilliant green of the lawn she cried. Pain haunted her eyes, but the face, even streaked by tears, shone with strength. The ring was of great sentimental value to the young girl; the ring had belonged to her mother and to her grandmother. It was a ring of her heritage, it represented who she was in it’s untarnished beauty. And now it represented the failure she was. Memories cluttered and clawed at her earlier euphoria leaving her with shards of stabbing darkness. Mother and grandmother fell upon her, their harsh words grating at her soul yet again. As memories clawed her soul a shade of fear made her shudder, but it was the sound of gurgling water that finally intruded upon her misery. Her head lifted slowly from her chest and her eyes glinted with mingled fear and curiosity. She stood and slowly turned to see what had caused the noise. When her emerald eyes fell upon the crystal jet of the well she saw only the rising silver of a bubble and nothing more. The woman took a seat upon the well’s brink again. What would she do now? Surely the ring was lost, but just as surely she needed it back. Tears began to course from her eyes again when a soft hand placed itself upon her shoulder. “No need to cry, maiden,” whispered a harsh voice. She spun swiftly in a riot of color to see a man garbed in shades of black, not at all the peasant clothing she was used to seeing. He had a long gaunt face covered by a dark cap of curly hair. His eyes were haunted by pain and misery but the green still blazed as he looked her levelly in the eye. His fleshless hands stretched out and touched the smooth warmth of the girl’s shoulder. As the cold bone touched the skin of her shoulder the color drained from the world, shades of red and green and every rainbow hue were slowly washed away fading to shades of gray and black. The emerald was blown from the grass as if on a wind and the red brick faded as a flower’s glory fades, withering and finally dying. The life faded from the gaunt face and it changed to ashen gray. The mottled green of eyes stared forth painfully and then the color winked out like candles snuffed in a darkened room. The girl shied away from the hand in shock and her eyes began to wander the dead gray of the world. The houses of the village were twisted into surreal shapes and birds hung suspended in air as if in mid-flight. The waters of the well were a transparent iron the ripples frozen in perfect circular form within the greater circle of the well. The gray shape of the man now clad in ethereal flesh stepped up to the rim of the brick well and looked down to the depths. A tight smile crossed his lips and coiling slightly he leapt the barrier and swiftly fell down the hollow shaft. The girl dashed to the brink and looked over but saw only a tiny glint of silver and then black. There was nothing in the tunnel, time passed slowly and still not a sign of the man. The ground began to tremble beneath her bare feet causing the dust to rise in a small cloud. The shaking grew more pronounced and soon it seemed the whole earth was rocking to the core. An explosion of light erupted from the well and all the world was consumed in flames of color so bright, the girl had to close her eyes against it. When the pressure against her eyelids was bearable they slid slowly open to find her looking at her own image reflected back. An image in shades of gray held up by bonds of silver from the reality shades of a brown tree limb. Standing next to the mirror was the man, his soft gray eyes staring out from the fleshtones of his face. His robes billowed about in a dazzling palette of color but the hands held at his side were still the same dull white and ever menacing. The man’s face broke into a smile, shining white teeth gleamed beneath ruby lips as a vibrant laugh erupted from deep within his body. A flat scream echoed around the laughter with a haunting countermelody, and it was with shock that the girl realized it was from her own ashen lips that the wail issued from. The man glided away in a harsh riot of color that was lost to the eye before he sank beneath the dun of the horizon. Alone again she gazed into her reflection and saw the quiet bustle of the village. Not a soul went to the well in the early morning gold; now the well next to her was void of the smallest drop of refreshment. Iron tears coursed down her ashen cheeks to fall to the luscious green below as she began to struggle against the bonds of silver that held her to the tree. She thought of the bonds that held her there as sure as stone. As her thoughts lingered there, the means of escape became clear. To break one’s bonds, one must not have anything to be bound to. Or have bonded to oneself. She fought for herself then, throwing off the bonds of her memories and leaving her soul untarnished gold. The silver fetters fell to the ground with the toll as of a silver bell. She quietly dried her azure tears and stooped to pick up the glittering bonds. With a distant smile she draped them gently over the great tree limb and with a firm step and mind she walked towards the distant horizon. Never again would she visit that town, and never again would the gray bricks of the well hold its liquid mirror. < !signature--> Abrahm Simons "You... You are so special You have the talent To make me feel like Dirt" - Alice in Chains, "Dirt" [This message has been edited by Dusk Treader (edited 06-23-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 Abrahm Simons - All Rights Reserved | |||
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netswan Senior Member
since 2000-03-28
Posts 1369Washington |
Hi Dusk, very descriptive - I would have been more happy if the ring had suddenly burst up in a glorious bubble. I do not truly understand what the middle of this story was all about. -- She was happy that morning ----tranquil, in fact. Then the story acts like she is getting some kind of freedom -----so I was lost, sorry. The description is awesome the words tightly fitting together. hmmm "its" is always "its" unless it is referred to be used as "it is" then that and only that is used as "it's" I will come in and read more of your stuff. warmly, netswan |
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WolfsMate Member
since 2000-01-14
Posts 121New York |
Enjoyed this very much. Loved the imagery in here. "You never have to worry...Never fear for I am near" |
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Alwye
Moderator
Member Elite
since 1999-06-16
Posts 3850In the space between moments |
Awesome imagery, my friend! The dark mysterious man, sheathed in black...hm, I think we talked about some of our characters in our stories and who they represent in real life..  I close here? A unique, descriptive tale. I have a vague idea of what this is about, but I think I'll ask you what it's really about. Again, a great tale!  *Krista Knutson* ~We are only truly lost when we have lost ourselves~ |
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Dawn Eclipse Senior Member
since 2000-01-31
Posts 637The Horsehead Nebula |
NINJA AWESOME! That deserves a NINJA ROUNDY-ROUNDY over the head spinny spinny NINJA CLAP! I enjoyed this one very much. you must write more often. "Even a fool knows you can't touch the stars, but it doesn't stop a wise man from trying." Harry Anderson, "Night Court" *Cassandra Roseen* |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Thank you all for replying netswan - Thank you for taking the time for such a thoughtful reply! I'm glad you enjoyed the story and would even read more of me if you didn't understand it. Maybe it'll help you to know that the man is Death? Email me if you're actually curious Wolfsmate - Thanks for the comment! Krista - Thanks for the comments and yeah life plays a BIG role in my writing, LOL, of course I don't know that until afterwards... Thank you my dear friend! Cassie - *Does a SUPER NINJA BACKFLIP BOW* You are much to kind my friend! Thank you for the reply! Abrahm Simons "You... You are so special You have the talent To make me feel like Dirt" - Alice in Chains, "Dirt" |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
OK... Christopher's here to deliver the jab of death! Ok, actually I couldn't find that much to whine about, but since I like ya so much, I will tell you what I found! A second bird joined the first then a third and by the time the sun had hefted it’s hulk clear of the horizon, myriad birds added their songs to the first. Ok, what I thought here, was that "bulk" might work better than "hulk." This is just a personal opinion as I just didn't care for the way "hulk" sounds here. Also, I love the word "myriad," but I think you might want to phrase that part differently. Perhaps : "A myriad number of birds..." A structure of red brick, the brink of which stood just below the woman’s waist. In my op, I think this a good description, but I think it's a tad incomplete. Either you need to combine it with the previous sentance, or you need to explain again what you're referring to. As it stands, it's incorrect phrasing! Her thoughts began to wander as the gentle warmth of filled her... Umm, "gentle warmth" of what? ...even streaked with tears, shone with supernatural beauty. S'cuse me sir, but didn't you say in the second paragraph that she was normal? Even supernatural normalacy isn't beauty my friend. LOL Actually I think that may come under the heading of oxymoronic. If she is supernaturally normal, then that tells me that she's as normal as they get! The ring was of great sentimental value, of her mother's and her mother's before that. Now I know what you're saying here m'man. But the way this sentance reads... well, it's a bit clumsy. It's as if you're telling us that the ring was of her mother's and before that, it was of her mother's. Maybe you could flesh this out a bit and make it more than one sentance to get the point across a little better. He had a long gaunt face surmounted by a dark cap of curly hair. Surmounted again, is a cool word. But I think something like covered or topped might serve just as well and not distract the reader (me,) from trying to figure out if you used the word properly! LOL ...and soon it seemed the whole earth rocked to the core. Quite the shindig, eh? Just kidding. You're combining a assumption with a definitive here. I think it might help if you phrased it a little differently, such as: "was rocking to the core." ...flames of color so bright the girl closed her eyes tight against them. Here, your subject is the explosion. Yet the focus switches to the girl. It might work a bit better here if you change the last bit to something like: "...so bright, the girl had to close her eyes against it." ...looking at her own image reflected at her. Yuck Abe! I know this had to be an accident here! LOL How about: "Looking at her own image reflecting back..." How's that sound? LOL But the hands were held menacingly at his sides were still the same dull white. How about: "... the hands held (no 'were' here) menacingly at his side were..." Although I have a hard time seeing how hands can be held menacingly at someone's sides. I think menacingly requires an action. Perhaps if you phrased it something like "even though his hands were hald at his side, they were still menacing..." Just a thought here. The man glided slowly away eventually the harsh riot of color was lost to the eye as he sunk beneath the distant dusty dun of the horizon. Now alone she again gazed into her reflection and saw behind her the quiet bustle of her village in the early morning, but not a soul went to the well. The well next to her was void of the smallest drop of refreshment. Ouch. Sorry m'friend, you're gonna hate me, but this whole paragraph here could use a bit of re-working. Here's how I've rewritten it... let me know what you think. "As the man slowly glided away the harsh riot of color was lost to the eye before he sank beneath the distant dun of the horizon. Alone again, she now gazed into her reflection and saw the quiet bustle of the village behind her in the early morning. But not a soul was going to the well. For now, the well next to her was void of even the smallest drop of refreshment." ...cheeks to fall to the verdant green below... The "green-green?" Since verdant is just another way of saying green, perhaps you might want to change the actual word green to something else. I know you're describing green as in the ground below, but might work better if you changed it. Ok, now that I've completely butchered you're work, let me add a few more comments. The fading glory of summer memories and rainbow dreams filled her mind. Now this is a phrase that sticks with you. Pure poetry Abe. This is it. And I absolutely dug the way you maintained a vibrant color theme throughout this, transferring them from representing actual objects and crossing over into likening them to emotions and abstracts. That takes talent, (I didn't realize there were so many ways to describe so many colors!) As an idea this rocks. I love the analogy of death holding a grip over a person who's mind is captivated by the idea of an object... who is only released, when (she) releases this obsession with materialism. (At least that's what I read into it!) Great job Abe, I know my response looks bad, but it's really only a few things here and there. As a story, it's great! Waiting for the next one... if you'll let me read it that is! |
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jbouder Member Elite
since 1999-09-18
Posts 2534Whole Sort Of Genl Mish Mash |
Great story, Abe. I would suggest that you tone down on the adjective use a little bit. I think they tend to interfere with the story's flow and the development of your theme. Wordiness tends to cause even colorful words to lose some color. That is why being careful to be concise, to not to waste any words, is very important. I would love to see your use of descriptive language focused toward the development of your story. You have an impressive vocabulary and a vivid imagination, Abe, and I think if both were directed at the development of the plot, you would be very happy with the results. Keep up the good work. Jim |
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Ruby dagger Member
since 1999-08-01
Posts 76Wyoming, MN, U.S.A |
Great story Abe! I love how you can make the reader picture the story so well. Great job. Write more! Luv Kelly "Everyone has to grow old, but it's a choice to grow up" -Vernon Lee- |
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Sudhir Iyer Member Ascendant
since 2000-04-26
Posts 6943Mumbai, India : now in Belgium |
Hey Dusk... Chris has given a vivid critique of your work already, so I will not trouble myself to do so... It is brilliant, but maybe you could drop out a few adjectives(there seem to be a lot of them around) like Jim mentions. The poetic form of expressions in prose is quite effective particluarly in the words like ....songs of a myriad birds had joined the first and ....Not a soul went to the well in the early morning gold But, this is one wonderfully written pice of work. I am really glad I read this one.... Write more and keep writing... Regards, sudhir. Life is like a painting, That in an art gallery is left hanging, Though many come just to look at it, A very few actually come to enjoy it. |
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