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ever glade (a tale in 100 words)
The path dissolves.
Within is silence, sharp and beautiful.
The air is cold and still; it snaps like a breaking bone, a falling icicle, skin between two fingers. Everything is shades painted on shadows; dark jagged curves of stone, palest rings as a water-strider defines surface tension.
Voices cast their own ripples through the air.
--You have to do it ---
I can't ... what if
She knows about the -- she'll --
-- need the money, right?
Right. Right..
The fog parts, allows them entry.
Three weeks later:
Bones, picked clean, scoured white: the only markers on a disappearing path.
Within is silence, sharp and beautiful.
The air is cold and still; it snaps like a breaking bone, a falling icicle, skin between two fingers. Everything is shades painted on shadows; dark jagged curves of stone, palest rings as a water-strider defines surface tension.
Voices cast their own ripples through the air.
--You have to do it ---
I can't ... what if
She knows about the -- she'll --
-- need the money, right?
Right. Right..
The fog parts, allows them entry.
Three weeks later:
Bones, picked clean, scoured white: the only markers on a disappearing path.
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Heh. Very nice!
A tiny, tiny suggestion, that you can absolutely take or leave? The third paragraph flows just a little bit better, I think, if strider-bug becomes water-strider, so that you get this:
The air is cold and still; it snaps like a breaking bone, a falling icicle, skin between two fingers. Everything is shades painted on shadows; dark jagged curves of stone, palest rings as a water-strider defines surface tension.
As I said, just a thought. *smiles*
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