I'm in a prosey kind of mood today. Which is annoying, because the prompt I'd intended to use was very much meant for poems. I'll have to save it for another day.
I was just inspired to do some writing on LJ's site and I feel like using another picture to get ideas flowing over here. So, once more, lets go browse National Geographic's photos of the day and find something to get your imagination going.
I used this one:
Mine:
The dry grass scratches my bare legs, like Rosun's beard against my cheek. But I cannot think of him now. If I lose focus now I will never feel his touch again, nor hear his words dancing in my ears, nor...
No. Now it is the time of the Hunt.
The spear is light in my hand, its finely carved shaft smooth against my palm. I keep low as I approach the clearing, using the dense trees for cover. I do not hear my Sisters on either side of me, but I know they are there.
I reach the final row of trees and peer carefully around a trunk. The beasts are alert but unmoving. I believe that some part of them feels our presence but they are unable to understand that feeling. To translate it to self-preservation, to flight.
A sparrow call reaches my ears from the right and I make ready. In moments we will burst from the treeline, whooping and screaming to the Gods, and the beasts will scatter. But they will not be fast enough to escape me. I will not fail my husband. I will not fail my daughter.
"Come, Sisters," I whisper fiercely, "let us, at long last, fill our bellies with flesh tonight."
3 comments:
Your bit was rather neat, 'Loo; there was something very primeval about it, very intense.
I have no idea if/how I can put the pic in here, so I'll just post the link. How 'bout that?
- - - - -
http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/enlarge/oil-refinery-abercrombie_pod_image.html
Standing at ease, I surveyed the sun bidding goodnight to the sparkling metropolis it was my misfortune to call home. My eye followed the pipelines radiating from the city center, carrying all sorts of matter: water in from the mountains, mail out to neighboring establishments. But perhaps the most important thing going in both directions was all the information; recent science reports discussing the latest technologies, relayals of the most recent political mishaps, the choicest gossip from the scandalous East end of the system.
But there was something missing. At least, I thought there was.
We'd made contact with neighboring systems, and indeed neighbors within our system, eons ago. Ours was a small planet, to be sure, but in comparison to other planets our size we're considered advanced. Everyone is constantly looking for what's new, what's hot, and what's next. But they never look back. It's like we're trying to get away from the past, leave it in the dust.
Personally, I feel we need to search out our roots, see the progress of other planets, no matter how primitive. Sure, a particular planet's inhabitants might be so primitive that they still think digital watches are a neat idea, but that doesn't mean they're any less interesting than life forms who ditched watches billions of years ago. Besides, who decided that watches are a measure of a civilization? The watch-makers? No, probably the Advertisement Department, come to think of it.
Anyway, so I was pouring over some old, rough maps of some of the galaxy's outer systems, and one particular sector jumped out at me. It was surprising that it caught my attention, considering how deserted it was; on the other hand, that might very well be the reason it caught me in the first place. I found a map of that particular sector, and my eyes fell on one rather plain system, or more specifically a pale bluish planet in that system orbiting its sun at a rough distance of 90 million miles away. Its name looked strange to me, so naturally it piqued my curiosity. But whenever I tried to look it up in any reference book its entry, if it was lucky enough to even have an entry at all, consisted of only one word: Harmless.
My philosophy in life is really very simple, and it is this: Things are not always what they seem. If most people are saying this small "insignificant" blue-green planet is harmless, then more likely than not there's some aspect about it that is in fact far from harmless, if not at least very weird. And if there's something weird happening out there, I want it to be happening to me.
I ditched the library, and scouted out my first ride out to Ursa Minor. I had a revision to propose.
- - - - -
Why yes, I did read a bit of Hitchhiker's last night, why do you ask? ^^
I'm in a bit of a hurry today, which means I won't be writing anything like as much as you or g2! I am impressed with both of you though, these pictures have clearly inspired you tremendously.
I rather liked this picture, but rather than write something inspired from it, given my hurry, I shall offer some captions for it instead.
1) ...and in the blue corner, it's the Iceberg that ate New York! In the red corner, looking nervous, it's the Titanic...
2) James Bond's jaw dropped as he saw the new SMERSH base, and he wished he'd remembered to bring his thermals.
3) When I said "on the rocks," I wasn't quite thinkin-- how much whiskey is that??
Sorry for not doing better, I shall try harder tomorrow, promise.
g2 - nicely done! Very, very atmospheric. And the Hitchhiker's tie-in was great! It was almost like a more serious take on the story, which I think is a rather unique idea.
Greg - your third one made me laugh out loud. You be lazy all you like :)
Post a Comment