Wednesday Muse #15
Each Wednesday I post a snippet written in response to a photo. If you’d like to be included in the Wednesday Muse series, please let me know! I’d be happy to add you to the list at the end.
Today I’m cheating a bit, and I’m posting a snippet of a WIP I’ve been arguing with for awhile. This scene was good for the week of Halloween!
Will stands in the field, dark hair blowing across his face in the wind. God, it’s cold. He’s speaking, but I can’t make out the words. The wind steals them, cradles them and breaks them before they can reach my ears. I know they’re important. He’s telling me something I must, I must know.
The sky darkens, and I look up at angry, roiling clouds. A dark forest springs up around me, so fast I can’t do more than cry out as branches whip my arms and legs. Will is lost in the foliage and it’s just me and a light winking in and out in the distance. It’s tiny. Like a candle light, but there’s hate in it, and malice, and I want nothing to do with that light. I take to the trees, searching for the darkness in the face of that horrible, horrible light.
I stumble, lose my footing and stretch out my hands…
…and land on the floor, crying out, with tears on my cheeks. As I sit up, shaky and disturbed, they begin to fade. I lean back against the couch and rubbed a hand over the wetness on my cheeks. “What the hell was that?” I whisper.
Getting to my feet, I pick up my cell from where its fallen next to me on the floor. According to the time, only a half an hour has passed. No one will be home for a couple hours still. The smell of pot roast floats through the air around me. My Aunt is in love with her Crock-pot.
The atmosphere has changed. It isn’t as charged as before. I rub my arms, wincing when a few places ache under the pressure of my touch. With a frown, I pull up one sleeve.
Welts are there on my arms, in each place the trees struck me.
The sky darkens, and I look up at angry, roiling clouds. A dark forest springs up around me, so fast I can’t do more than cry out as branches whip my arms and legs. Will is lost in the foliage and it’s just me and a light winking in and out in the distance. It’s tiny. Like a candle light, but there’s hate in it, and malice, and I want nothing to do with that light. I take to the trees, searching for the darkness in the face of that horrible, horrible light.
I stumble, lose my footing and stretch out my hands…
…and land on the floor, crying out, with tears on my cheeks. As I sit up, shaky and disturbed, they begin to fade. I lean back against the couch and rubbed a hand over the wetness on my cheeks. “What the hell was that?” I whisper.
Getting to my feet, I pick up my cell from where its fallen next to me on the floor. According to the time, only a half an hour has passed. No one will be home for a couple hours still. The smell of pot roast floats through the air around me. My Aunt is in love with her Crock-pot.
The atmosphere has changed. It isn’t as charged as before. I rub my arms, wincing when a few places ache under the pressure of my touch. With a frown, I pull up one sleeve.
Welts are there on my arms, in each place the trees struck me.