The first village they arrived at after leaving Bymont was situated in the middle of the endless grass fields they'd been trekking through, as though it had simply sprung up from nowhere, like a flower or a weed. A collection of huts, cut out of the same earth that they sat on, stood in a semi-circle. Women, children, and men all moved about amongst the earthy shelters, hanging laundry, tending fires, and sharpening knives.
At the edge of the village, a group of contented Karvi were loosely tied, chewing grass and shifting lazily from side to side. Beyond was a stream, the first fresh water source Ana had seen since leaving home.
The spread
The storm broke suddenly, the same way it always did. One minute the world beyond the walls of the mountain was screaming, and the next it was dead silent. It was always an odd feeling. Knowing that something was missing but not quite sure what it was… and then slowly realizing that the sound of the storm was no longer ringing in the background; a thunderous white noise.
It happened every year, and still, Ana wasn't entirely used to it.
People were starved for fresh air and sunlight, and it didn't take long for them to finish rubbing their ears and begin heading out into the light, breathing in the heady scent of wet earth.
Ana left
Ana's feet were killing her. They were sore from walking and rubbed raw from the blades of grass that brushed ruthlessly against her bare legs, over and over again. She licked her lips, but they were still dry when she pulled her tongue away.
Peti glanced back, saw Ana lagging, and paused for her to catch up. "Here." he handed her the flagon of water.
Ana took a deep, thirsty swig. "I thought we had to ration the water."
"It doesn't matter now. We're almost there. Keep moving, no more lagging. The sooner we arrive the sooner you can really quench your thirst. And your hunger."
Ana took another long pull from the flagon, then handed it b
Ana sat in the corner. Her fingers moved obediently as she crocheted, but her eyes were locked on Peti, who stood tall and animated in the centre of the room. Candles, scattered about to ward off the darkness of the cave, flickered and cast wild shadows across the walls and faces of the people gathered around, most of whom were fixated on Peti, who was reaching the climax of his tale.
"… It began ruthlessly. Unexpectedly." he was saying, "the people had no idea what to do or where it had come from. It swept across the land, an ice cold knife snuffing out lives, one by one. Women. Men. Children. It was a cruel way to die. Great purple
A stray gust of wind pushed through the dry air, causing the long stalks of yellowed grass to rattle, a sound that spread from one stalk to the next, until the air was humming.
The sky was heavy. It was bright and clear, but there was a weight to it, a sense of something, though words could not convey exactly what it was. It could have been described as a wet, acrid smell, perhaps, or a thick sickly sweetness that weighed heavily on the skin… or maybe it was nothing more than a feeling.
The rattling fields spread far in every direction but one, where they were interrupted by a jutting mountain, which rose up in harsh dark chunks of s
## Chapter One
It felt like I had only just finished packing up and selling my mother's belongings when my aunt died.
Bad things always seem to come in one big rush, trying to crush you in a heavy onslaught. My mother's death had been an unexpected blow that came a mere few days after the loss of my job in a company-wide downsizing decision.
It had hit me in the chest and the bruise never seemed to get any better. She'd slid of the road while driving her little 2008 yaris, landed in a lake, and drowned. She's the one that told ME growing up to always roll down your windows if you know you're headed for water, but I guess she didn't have tim
The first village they arrived at after leaving Bymont was situated in the middle of the endless grass fields they'd been trekking through, as though it had simply sprung up from nowhere, like a flower or a weed. A collection of huts, cut out of the same earth that they sat on, stood in a semi-circle. Women, children, and men all moved about amongst the earthy shelters, hanging laundry, tending fires, and sharpening knives.
At the edge of the village, a group of contented Karvi were loosely tied, chewing grass and shifting lazily from side to side. Beyond was a stream, the first fresh water source Ana had seen since leaving home.
The spread
The storm broke suddenly, the same way it always did. One minute the world beyond the walls of the mountain was screaming, and the next it was dead silent. It was always an odd feeling. Knowing that something was missing but not quite sure what it was… and then slowly realizing that the sound of the storm was no longer ringing in the background; a thunderous white noise.
It happened every year, and still, Ana wasn't entirely used to it.
People were starved for fresh air and sunlight, and it didn't take long for them to finish rubbing their ears and begin heading out into the light, breathing in the heady scent of wet earth.
Ana left
Ana's feet were killing her. They were sore from walking and rubbed raw from the blades of grass that brushed ruthlessly against her bare legs, over and over again. She licked her lips, but they were still dry when she pulled her tongue away.
Peti glanced back, saw Ana lagging, and paused for her to catch up. "Here." he handed her the flagon of water.
Ana took a deep, thirsty swig. "I thought we had to ration the water."
"It doesn't matter now. We're almost there. Keep moving, no more lagging. The sooner we arrive the sooner you can really quench your thirst. And your hunger."
Ana took another long pull from the flagon, then handed it b
Ana sat in the corner. Her fingers moved obediently as she crocheted, but her eyes were locked on Peti, who stood tall and animated in the centre of the room. Candles, scattered about to ward off the darkness of the cave, flickered and cast wild shadows across the walls and faces of the people gathered around, most of whom were fixated on Peti, who was reaching the climax of his tale.
"… It began ruthlessly. Unexpectedly." he was saying, "the people had no idea what to do or where it had come from. It swept across the land, an ice cold knife snuffing out lives, one by one. Women. Men. Children. It was a cruel way to die. Great purple
A stray gust of wind pushed through the dry air, causing the long stalks of yellowed grass to rattle, a sound that spread from one stalk to the next, until the air was humming.
The sky was heavy. It was bright and clear, but there was a weight to it, a sense of something, though words could not convey exactly what it was. It could have been described as a wet, acrid smell, perhaps, or a thick sickly sweetness that weighed heavily on the skin… or maybe it was nothing more than a feeling.
The rattling fields spread far in every direction but one, where they were interrupted by a jutting mountain, which rose up in harsh dark chunks of s
## Chapter One
It felt like I had only just finished packing up and selling my mother's belongings when my aunt died.
Bad things always seem to come in one big rush, trying to crush you in a heavy onslaught. My mother's death had been an unexpected blow that came a mere few days after the loss of my job in a company-wide downsizing decision.
It had hit me in the chest and the bruise never seemed to get any better. She'd slid of the road while driving her little 2008 yaris, landed in a lake, and drowned. She's the one that told ME growing up to always roll down your windows if you know you're headed for water, but I guess she didn't have tim
Writing Tournament V Round I + Sign Ups! by Writers--club, journal
Writing Tournament V Round I + Sign Ups!
Come one and come all, raise your pen take part in this grand literary battle! You could win a quill, dA core memberships, points, art, features, and more to be won! We have extended our deadline to give you all a little more time to enter the first round.
The time is nigh for the Fifth Annual Writers--club (https://www.deviantart.com/writers--club) Literature Tournament!
This is a tournament for all writers welcoming prose and poetry! It will be a grand competition spanning three rounds of literary challenge! First of all, you must be willing to write for each of the rounds over the coming months.
There will be judging at the end of each round and those who progress to the n
World War Ayralef - 17 by Jakethecardsculptor, literature
Literature
World War Ayralef - 17
RALLY THE HOUSES I
Myreli couldn't remember how or when she got to where she was. Which was always the surest sign that she was dreaming.
An even more obvious clue lay in the sheer impossibility of her surroundings. She was standing in an open field, in the middle of a rolling, grassy plain. Overhead, the sky was dark, but she could see as clearly as if it were daytime. Stars and galaxies filled the heavens as though there were no atmosphere to dim the brilliance of the universe. The moon was impossibly huge; looming, half-set upon the horizon to her left. Directly ahead, as Myreli faced, a gigantic tree sprouted out of the pla
It was made to look exactly like an iceberg, unless someone happened to notice the gentle glow from the kitchen window, shimmering underwater and casting light on any sea life that idly passed by.
Dan had lived there his entire life with his wild and eccentric father, who believed that the best way to avoid the folly of mankind was to hide from it in the most bizarre home ever created.
Dan wasn't aware of how different his life was from other ten year old boys. It seemed perfectly natural to wake up, glance out the bedroom window, and see his father's fishing nets, suspended ghost-like in the greenish hazed arctic ocean.
It seemed complete
If you've been reading Amphios, or if you're interested in it... I have a request!
I'm not fond of any of my Characters' names. I'm open to suggestions if anyone wants to help me out :)
The hardest thing about writing is trying to make it feel natural.
I have read/skimmed so many pieces on deviantart in the last few days and the pattern is clear: Even well-written pieces are often painfully transparent. You can see the author behind them, painstakingly choosing words and re-reading their sentences over and over, and you never really feel engrossed.
I've even experienced this in less-than-high quality books. You'd think that if you're good enough to be published you wouldn't be having this problem, but I can definitely name a cheap paperback mystery or two that make me roll my eyes at the silly adverbs and forced sounding