Gumboot
lorcutus.tolere
- Joined
- Feb 12, 2012
- Messages
- 948
I've revisited this piece, with much of the feedback in mind. It's quite considerably changed though, so I wanted some feedback on the new version.
Dawn kissed the sky. In the cold light, a damaged daisy trembled on a broken stem. Drops of water fell to earth, scattering in the grass. The daisy clung valiantly to its berth as sporadic droplets pelted it. For a time, it endured, but as the rain increased the tiny flower was pummelled into the ground. The last remnants of its stem failed, and it was taken by a rivulet of water. It was carried through long grass, twisting this way and that, while from above the rain continued its relentless attack. The rivulet joined others, streaming down a slope, until the flower was rudely deposited in a small, fast-flowing brook. The daisy tumbled down through a rocky defile. It was thrown about before coming to a sudden halt, petals plastered against a river stone. For a moment the brook and the stone fought for possession of the hapless plant. With a sudden rush the flower was wrenched away to continue its journey.
The rain fell away to a light shower, then ceased completely. The brook became a creek, then a stream, then finally a broad, slow-moving river. The current slowed, and the sad, battered flower drifted listlessly on the surface. Open fields of grass drifted by, backed by dark woods.
Ahead, an expansive sea lay grey and uninviting in the flat light. The daisy was carried towards it with the inevitability of time itself. Then its path was altered, abruptly, by a tanned and creased hand. Calloused fingers plucked it from the current and raised it into the sky.
Garos gazed at the flower with troubled silver eyes before looking out to sea. To either side the coast stretched outwards into a sweeping bay. Its shores were beaches of white sand between forested headlands. As he watched, the morning sun broke free of cloud and the water came alight, glittering like silver. Its depths were cobalt and emerald. Gulls cried overhead as they made their way out to sea. The air was crisp and briny. Behind the dunes swept fertile plains fit for farming and dense woods rich in game and strong timber. The land was ripe with possibility. A good place to live.
It was as good a place as any to die.
***
Dawn kissed the sky. In the cold light, a damaged daisy trembled on a broken stem. Drops of water fell to earth, scattering in the grass. The daisy clung valiantly to its berth as sporadic droplets pelted it. For a time, it endured, but as the rain increased the tiny flower was pummelled into the ground. The last remnants of its stem failed, and it was taken by a rivulet of water. It was carried through long grass, twisting this way and that, while from above the rain continued its relentless attack. The rivulet joined others, streaming down a slope, until the flower was rudely deposited in a small, fast-flowing brook. The daisy tumbled down through a rocky defile. It was thrown about before coming to a sudden halt, petals plastered against a river stone. For a moment the brook and the stone fought for possession of the hapless plant. With a sudden rush the flower was wrenched away to continue its journey.
The rain fell away to a light shower, then ceased completely. The brook became a creek, then a stream, then finally a broad, slow-moving river. The current slowed, and the sad, battered flower drifted listlessly on the surface. Open fields of grass drifted by, backed by dark woods.
Ahead, an expansive sea lay grey and uninviting in the flat light. The daisy was carried towards it with the inevitability of time itself. Then its path was altered, abruptly, by a tanned and creased hand. Calloused fingers plucked it from the current and raised it into the sky.
Garos gazed at the flower with troubled silver eyes before looking out to sea. To either side the coast stretched outwards into a sweeping bay. Its shores were beaches of white sand between forested headlands. As he watched, the morning sun broke free of cloud and the water came alight, glittering like silver. Its depths were cobalt and emerald. Gulls cried overhead as they made their way out to sea. The air was crisp and briny. Behind the dunes swept fertile plains fit for farming and dense woods rich in game and strong timber. The land was ripe with possibility. A good place to live.
It was as good a place as any to die.
*