080902 - Word Painting #4
Sep. 2nd, 2008 03:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
koilungfish19/8/08 - 1335 words on Stormhangar
20/8/08 - Day Off
21/8/08 - Ill
22/8/08 - 872 words on Stormhangar
23/8/08 - 25/8/08 - Ill
26/8/08 - 637 words on Stormhangar
27/8/08 - Ill
28/8/08 - Ill
29/8/08 - Art; preliminary sketches
30/8/08 - 1/9/08 - Ill
02/9/08 - Word Painting #4
Dancing lights, brittle and against the natural order, flickery flashes like marshfire twinkle-prickling amongst the treetops. Blue-wight and flammiferous, weaving amongst the swaying pine-heads, the black on black of fir on sky. Dimming, the prattle of light twines amongst the highest branches, flashing up the needles of the trees with their needles of light. Guttering, sputtering, dipping, throwing shades of whiteness against the firs they sink into the thick nests of the branches, perching like tired thrushes, glittering dim greens and reds.
After the lights, the air. The rush of wind rising, breathing out from the mountains that put an edge to the sky, the yawn of stone that sways the pines. Streamers of thin light blow out from the dancing lights, long streaks that sway in the wind like tails. The dark air about the trees is filled with the leathery swash of bat wings, rustling and shuffling, warm dry skin against unseen fur and stone-chilled air.
A low breeze winds between the treetrunks, chuckling up sprays of snow, snickering through the frozen brambles and laughing frost against shown skin. Overhead, overtree, the unseen bats number vasty hordes, seething overhead in star-shuffling crowds, their chatter and their pipe muffled and shushed by the mumble of the wind.
The sky flutters, the darkness and the stars shifting back and forth as the bats flutter overhead, for the bats dive and dart and catch the dancing lights in their mouths, and the dancing lights flee through the trees, through the branches, but too slow! Now each bat wears a star on its brow, a forehead flammifer, and the stars dive amongst the trees squeaking and chasing one another on wings of thinnest skin.
The snow crisps and pants under quiet pads, the liquid darkness of shaggy fur and heavy head. The long tail sways, brushing fluffs of snow from tall drifts. The muscles move beneath the silken coat, the great shoulders and haunches flexing without effort as the night cat bounds slow and easy through the deep winter.
The last of the dancing lights drop from their branches like a timid rain, flirting over the great cat's head, skittering back in fearing clouds at the inquisitive bat of a powerful paw, the claws shining like steel. The lights cluster, snuggling together into blots of bright, and fall upon the great cat in shimmering rosettes.
Bemused, the great cat licks its fur and finds the clotted glow a part of itself. It snorts and shakes its shaggy head, rolls over and over in the snow. The bright spots leave bright spots in the snow but they do not come off. The great cat shakes itself, feigning indifference, and bounds away through the forest, clods of snow falling from branches in its wake.
Silent, almost; the slither of snow and the thump of fall. The soft mumble of the breezes. The piercing un-sound of starlight unhidden by bats.
Beyond the trees, on the once-grey slopes of the mountains now gleaming with snow, amongst the red bones and the steaming entrails, with mouths grimed by gore and breath that pants out as steam, the wolves smile silently, and howl the stars to life.
20/8/08 - Day Off
21/8/08 - Ill
22/8/08 - 872 words on Stormhangar
23/8/08 - 25/8/08 - Ill
26/8/08 - 637 words on Stormhangar
27/8/08 - Ill
28/8/08 - Ill
29/8/08 - Art; preliminary sketches
30/8/08 - 1/9/08 - Ill
02/9/08 - Word Painting #4
Dancing lights, brittle and against the natural order, flickery flashes like marshfire twinkle-prickling amongst the treetops. Blue-wight and flammiferous, weaving amongst the swaying pine-heads, the black on black of fir on sky. Dimming, the prattle of light twines amongst the highest branches, flashing up the needles of the trees with their needles of light. Guttering, sputtering, dipping, throwing shades of whiteness against the firs they sink into the thick nests of the branches, perching like tired thrushes, glittering dim greens and reds.
After the lights, the air. The rush of wind rising, breathing out from the mountains that put an edge to the sky, the yawn of stone that sways the pines. Streamers of thin light blow out from the dancing lights, long streaks that sway in the wind like tails. The dark air about the trees is filled with the leathery swash of bat wings, rustling and shuffling, warm dry skin against unseen fur and stone-chilled air.
A low breeze winds between the treetrunks, chuckling up sprays of snow, snickering through the frozen brambles and laughing frost against shown skin. Overhead, overtree, the unseen bats number vasty hordes, seething overhead in star-shuffling crowds, their chatter and their pipe muffled and shushed by the mumble of the wind.
The sky flutters, the darkness and the stars shifting back and forth as the bats flutter overhead, for the bats dive and dart and catch the dancing lights in their mouths, and the dancing lights flee through the trees, through the branches, but too slow! Now each bat wears a star on its brow, a forehead flammifer, and the stars dive amongst the trees squeaking and chasing one another on wings of thinnest skin.
The snow crisps and pants under quiet pads, the liquid darkness of shaggy fur and heavy head. The long tail sways, brushing fluffs of snow from tall drifts. The muscles move beneath the silken coat, the great shoulders and haunches flexing without effort as the night cat bounds slow and easy through the deep winter.
The last of the dancing lights drop from their branches like a timid rain, flirting over the great cat's head, skittering back in fearing clouds at the inquisitive bat of a powerful paw, the claws shining like steel. The lights cluster, snuggling together into blots of bright, and fall upon the great cat in shimmering rosettes.
Bemused, the great cat licks its fur and finds the clotted glow a part of itself. It snorts and shakes its shaggy head, rolls over and over in the snow. The bright spots leave bright spots in the snow but they do not come off. The great cat shakes itself, feigning indifference, and bounds away through the forest, clods of snow falling from branches in its wake.
Silent, almost; the slither of snow and the thump of fall. The soft mumble of the breezes. The piercing un-sound of starlight unhidden by bats.
Beyond the trees, on the once-grey slopes of the mountains now gleaming with snow, amongst the red bones and the steaming entrails, with mouths grimed by gore and breath that pants out as steam, the wolves smile silently, and howl the stars to life.
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no subject
Date: 2008-09-05 06:03 am (UTC)As for what you posted here - I like the sound of it. (Yes, sound - this is definitely something that asks to be read aloud.) "Flickery flashes," "slither of snow -" you practically want to taste the words.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-05 01:55 pm (UTC)Yay :) I really should try reading my own stuff aloud, but I trip over my words so much ...
no subject
Date: 2008-09-05 06:49 am (UTC)hehehehehehehee....^_^
no subject
Date: 2008-09-05 01:55 pm (UTC)