Writing

Sonata's picture

congelés mélodie

Plush flakes of white drifted gently down from the sky, melting upon the upturned nose of the fawn, and the creature gave a slight start at the cold feeling, golden eyes widening for a moment, focused on the cold forms as if the heat of his gaze would make them melt.

His steps were wary, flinching as the snow melted upon his thin pelt, slender legs picking over the ground hurridly.

Increasing in speed, soon he was at a trot, then a gallop.

He didn't like the snow, it muffled everything, hid the gentle music of the forest that was so dear to him.

And so, he ran, ears twitching, seeking the sound of his own hoofbeats.

But all that reached him was the muffled sound of snow as his hooves cut into it.
Silence...
It scared him, eyes filling with warm crystaline tears that burned trails down his cheeks, which the wind quickly cooled and froze.

"Mama?
Kallykat's picture

On the playground...

(Read part one here: http://www.endlessforest.org/community/beginning .)

It was midday and two fawns frolicked through the violets on the path that led to the playground. The larger fawn went first, head held high, drinking in the fresh forest air, his tail twitching with excitement. Where the violet thinned out into yellow grass, he spun around and let out a playful roar. The lighter fawn, who had paused to soak in the sunlight as it filtered through the branches, pricked her ears at his roar and skipped over to him.

"What's the rush?" she asked.

"There's never any rush, according to you. If I wasn't around, you probably wouldn't make it to the playground until sundown, and then it'd be time to go home." He shook his body head to tail and spun around again, looking over his shoulder. "Come on. I'll race you!"

Without giving her a chance to protest, he bounded away through the grass. The young doe only hesitated a moment. Then, with a small hop, she was racing lightly after him.

The two friends skidded to a halt as the half-buried boulders loomed before them. A brief silence fell upon them as they gazed up in awe at the highest peak. The doe walked forward and pressed her cheek gently against the base of the rock. It was cool, as if the sun's rays did not reach this far down its stony mass. She guessed the top would be warmer. A scraping sound made her look to her right, and she saw her friend scrambling up one of the smaller boulders. A smile slowly spread across her face. She trotted over to join him, leaping nimbly onto the small rock and widening her stance to steady herself as she landed. She laughed when she saw her friend's surprised expression and leaped easily away onto the next rock and the next, making her way up to the peak.
Alecsander's picture

Hey mister...[Marcaello/Rhys]

Raise your hand if it's 1 am and you're too lazy to format?
-raises hand-

___________________________________________________________________________________

He heard it before he saw it.
Twice in one day.
This was a record for annoyance.

He only glanced back for a half second before his nostrils were assaulted by the putrid scent of violets. Rhys stood up shaking his head violently to clear the spots and remove the offending blossoms. He eyed the surrounding trees with some contempt before he laid back down.

His rest was interrupted again as he tried to close those eyes for a second time.
He raised his head scanning the treeline and growled softly under his breath.
Damn children.
They would be the death of him.

He sneezed violently a few times and took for the air. He defied the bounds of gravity and rested effortlessly in the treetops. It was silent and even the birds would hush their songs when he was near. You'd never know such a large deer could be so light on his feet, but for all of his extra pounds he soared.

Finally....
peace!

Rhys let out a relaxed sigh and laid down his head until he smelled it again.
Closer this time.
....
He raised his head and peered over his shoulder.
A skull and crossbones hovered inches from his face and the large garish imp mask rested lightly on his back.
"PSST...hey mister...FLOWERS!!"

Rhys groaned and laid back down his head.
It never ended.
He did his best to ignore the tiny dancing hooves on his back and glared down at any passing deer, just daring at them to comment.

Little bastard was persistent.
___________________________________________________________________________________
For Marcaello
Now stop raping my deer with tussie-mussie. Sticking out tongue
He likes flowers, just not on his head.
Seriously kid, watch your back or Rhys'll fat on you.



Alecsander's picture

Daboia [Finata]


"Hello, my name is Finata.
About 2 months ago you tried to end my life.
Do you think I would forget?
Do you think I would give you the chance to harm my friend Varius?"


The small stag eyed the large female with pure contempt. She was intent on going after one of the only friends he had. Varius didn't know any better. He was foolishly trusting of anyone. He would tie roses to Bylah's antlers if he thought it'd bring about a smile.

He growled lowly and placed himself between the harlot and his close friend. How badly he wished that Kalpita was there to defend him. His larger protector could send any deer scurrying away when she turned those curved points on them. Yet this time...No he was alone. Trying in vain alone to keep the one who scarred his childhood body forever form striking out again.

It might not be today.
It might not be tomorrow.
but soon he knew she would lash out against another.
Finata would be there every time to put himself between a loved one and that doe.

The pretty face did nothing to hide the monster underneath from him. He saw it on the third of January when he strolled too close and she unleashed the hellish fury upon him. A mere child and she struck him multiple times with the intense fury of one willing to drag an innocent to hell.

He growled warningly as the doe turned her back on him and walked away.
No. She did not recognize this scarred and bloody face.
But she would get to know it intimately if she went after one of his close friends again.
He saw past her facade. Past her haughty little laugh and taunting smile.

Sure, make him seem like the bad guy for pushing his friend from her clutches.
He knew better. He would always know better.
You don't forget your first nightmare.
Alecsander's picture

Withholding [Rhys]

He heard them before they first spoke up. The hesitant baby steps. The scrambling hooves on rock. The young ones. He despised them, but sometimes education was necessary.
Shulgalaj's picture

Oh my. Yet another poem I found in my dusty archives...

Poem.


What trace of your existence
have you left for the world to see?
If only a thin essence
of something you could be

A proof that you were here
the imprint of a bare foot
A something to show who you were
that you were not a plant without root

Is it meant to be
is it meant to stay
or shall it, like a tree
slowly rot away?

by Shulgalaj

.


.


More of the same
OokamiAzura's picture

The World Shall Fall to Its Knees, and Bow Forevermore to Me. [MATURE THEMES] [Writing]

Inspired by a graphic that I made earlier tonight.
Yes, it's a Shadow the Hedgehog graphic. Get over it.
In combination with the piece "Theme of Gemini" from Kikaider.
Fail is fail.
AUTO MUSIC IS OFF.

Fledermaus's picture

.Reform.


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[=BookAntiqua][=13]



It was difficult not to notice the amount of sheer dismay that coated her face, of which each glance that he stole sent a pang through his heart while he waited in the doorway. Slinging a white backpack over her shoulder, she approached the other man and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on as if this was a final goodbye. His large hand touched the top of her head, stroking the ropes of hair reassuringly before urging her to go along with what was still essentially a stranger to her. Begrudgingly, she obeyed; gaze cast to the floor and feet shuffling in its wake. In the same moment, the two men locked eyes; one mainly unapologetic (bring her back in one piece), the other thwarted (wonder what you’ve been telling her about me).

The door shut behind them, sealing the faint animosity in its frame as the pair left silently. The bus ride was more or less a stage for forced chatting with long periods of her uninterested silence in-between. The dull and grimy window was all that seemed to hold her attention for the entire trip, even as she murmured answers for his questions painted with a layer of sincerity. Her fingers fidgeted with her woven bracelets the whole time; when he noticed, he eased off the small talk and wordlessly entertained the obvious.

She didn’t like him.

The vehicle’s hiss signaled their stop finally- and she wouldn’t have known it if the man hadn’t stood up, indicating she should follow suit. The frigid February air greeted them again on the outside, inciting a sniffle from the girl as a leftover favor of her earlier illness as she followed behind him toward the building.

The air inside was stale, but warm. Her disenchanted grassy green eyes flickered around as the elevator made its slow approach. She could tell that he wasn’t well off, monetarily speaking.
Sonata's picture

Heartstrings

Dancing, Courting, L'amour, it had never been a pleasant thing for Chopin, looking back upon his human life, which had actually become a hard thing to do, ever harder with each day that passed, as if looking through a thickening veil.

And he found that it was still not a pleasant thing, the scent of love hanging about the air like some sort of tangible mist caused his stomach to twist into sickening knots, usual gentleman-like demeanor faltering if only the smallest amount.

How many songs had been written in the name of 'love'? how many would tear their hearts out but to gain the thing known as 'love'? Operas, Sonatas, Requiems, hundreds upon thousands written for the sake of 'love' only to be discarded later for some reason or another, thousands upon millions of songs thrown away for the sake of courting.

It made him sick, if not a bit depressed, to see it, silent couples doing silent things.

He had never truly enjoyed the company of females, not in a romantic way, far too caught up in their dreams of a fairytale ending to ever see that their prince was really standing right in front of them until the end had come and gone and it was far too late.

Or more oft' then not actually gaining a marriage only to realize that they did not actually like relationships, but rather the idea of one, which made sense, for at one point or another most things did sound like a decent idea until they are but into play at which point they blacken and crumble to peices like the skeleton of a burning building or the leaves of an unwatered rose.

Not that it had not seemed a bad idea to him at one point! Oh of course not! He had courted a select few in his life only to have the men he set his eyes upon drift off like the notes of some dark nocturne to chase after a life with some woman or another.

Of course! what else but children would one ever want from a partnership!
fayne's picture

such is the way of the world. (tuna/rutilus/danila)

[=10]Of course M wasn’t there – he couldn’t dance. That simple train of thought was enough to make her giggle. Too much pondwater to drink, perhaps? The woman ignored her own train of thought with one last bubbly snort, taking a quick gulp of scotch. The dance had gone wonderfully. Rut – although grinning like a fourteen-year-old, and her barely holding back snorts of amusement, they’d barely said anything the entire time, just danced. Now that night had fallen, and she’d returned to the human world, the thought of it was entertaining. Not to mention the warm feeling that had followed her to her human home.

God, I feel great. Gonna make tomorrow a lot easier. There were things she had to take care of, but not yet. Decisions were best made at the opportune moment.

“God, I feel like I swam in beer.”

Barely surpressing a laugh, Tuna turned around to glance over her dance partner, stumbling through the unlocked door. It took him a moment to take in her appearance and stop. After all, in the Forest, dresses didn’t exist. It was only after she withdrew that the thing had appeared on her person – soft and white and huge. Pretty great. But anyways. Rut stared, finally grinning widely. “You look smashing.”

“And you look drop-dead gorgeous.” He’d decided to put on a suit for this, it seemed, and to hell with her if he wasn’t easy on the eyes. The blonde man grinned lopsidedly and moved a little further into her living room. “Hope you were enjoying yourself as much as I was,” he continued jovially. “Everybody else sure was.” Tuna flicked her hair out of her face and slid off the kitchen table, her bad leg for once feeling quite well. “Oh, yeah. I haven’t had that much fun since that time at the shooting range with Cybil.”

So good – so good- I got you – the music floated around her apartment. Rutilus made his way over next to her and leaned against the table, snatching the bottle of scotch from her with ease.
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