WingZombie38
10-16-2004, 09:24 PM
I haven't written [school assignments don't count] since around 7th grade. It was terrible of me to have given up such a wonderful hobby so early on. That's why I decided I should try writing again. And boy has it bedome very hard. Here's something that took me around 2 weeks to get right. As a forewarning, I think it sounds a bit dis-jointed.
Please let me know how I can improve. Thanks.
Water Song
Coming through a sea of foliage was as elderly man who had been traveling for what seemed like a night induced fervor. The man had finally come to tire form his long journey. It seemed like an eternity to come to this point. It was a calling, as if all he was meant for were to congregate at this certain point. The tired withered man reached the basin of a lake and dropped to his knees. He needed to rest and something inside him told him to go to the body of water in front of him. With a heaving sigh, the old man peered upon the water. At this spot the light seemed to shine the brightest. The water showed all of its ripples they were as numerous as the old man's.
The lake was not too shallow here, although it was a deep body of water. He could see not too much activity in it. A few small, tiny fish darted here and there. Swaying this way and that the little things were keeping rhythm with the beat of the singing insects and night creatures of the darkened nighttime greenery around him. However, the man did notice little lights flickering in and out. He could not tell if it was the fireflies of the night, or if may be the water held it's own illuminating source. He decided the latter as one swift look around showed the flies of fire were not around.
He took a moment to pause and take in his surroundings. The moonlight danced with the ripples of the water. Night blanketed the land casting a world of beautiful darkness. A light breeze swayed the flora as the light mist from the not so shallow lake rose; it intertwined with the sweet smell of fruit baring trees and bushes. The night air held its own song.
He had been a musician in his youth. Or at least he pretended to be. The man had always been able to hear a song no one else could. It was a song that was beating strongly within him everyday. He could never fathom the end of it. There were times when he forced himself to stop but he always heard the same rhythmic melody. It hypnotized him through sad times and happy times, through peace and war. The song helped him live and move on day by emotional day.
Even on the day he started this journey many weeks ago. All alone in his cabin atop a flowery hill he heard a sweet serenade that was unlike anything he had ever listened to. By the days end it was his new mission in life to follow that song to its origin. It had led him to this beautiful land and to this lake. The old man put a hand to his heart. It was racing. He had been at rest for a while now and should have been able to recover his strength. His body shivered and tensed as he realized the song he loved so much was lost. He knew to come to the lake but upon the lake he only heard the song of mundane life chiming away in the night air.
A little voice the elder man often heard and called his own spoke to him now. He knew what was upon him and it saddened him. He followed that song that spawned this journey to its end. He did not want the song to end. There was so much more, there had to be, yet, little he could do about it in the time allotted.
The music he heard now was pitiful, as if a child had been told he could not have the toy he just saw at the market, as if a puppy ran away from his young master. The old man gathered some sparkling water into his joined palms and splashed it to his face. He hoped the water would mask his tears. The same tears that made the pathetic sound coming from his throat. The same tears that told him his journey was over.
At this point the water seemed to glow with unearthly light as if they heard the song of tears. The old man cursed himself for blurring his vision with unwanted sadness. It was clearly becoming morning and he was about to miss a sunrise. Oddly, as he looked up the sky, even with is tears, the old man noticed there was still a shimmering veil of darkness present in the sky. It was not anywhere near sunrise. The light came from the water.
Looking back down into the water of the lake he could not help but edge closer on hands and knees. It was as if a vision were unfolding before him, almost another world. His vision had stopped blurring and he had forgotten his tears. He heard singing. It was beautiful it was the same song he had been following. The same song he thought was lost to him. The old man could feel his heart become at ease. This song seemed as if it would flow forever. What the old man heard was a euphoric sympathy of all that was alive, of everything that existed within him and outside him.
Slowly but swiftly, the man was lulled into a slumber as he slid down to the bottom of the lake with what seemed as the guidance of the water's unearthly luminance. The luminance was the singer of that loving song. The light would hold him and sing to him. He would join the singing light for an eternity of wondrous melodies, of a journey without end.
The old man heard this song, his song, as it began; as it was; as it seemed to end and then was set to repeat even lovelier then before.
Please let me know how I can improve. Thanks.
Water Song
Coming through a sea of foliage was as elderly man who had been traveling for what seemed like a night induced fervor. The man had finally come to tire form his long journey. It seemed like an eternity to come to this point. It was a calling, as if all he was meant for were to congregate at this certain point. The tired withered man reached the basin of a lake and dropped to his knees. He needed to rest and something inside him told him to go to the body of water in front of him. With a heaving sigh, the old man peered upon the water. At this spot the light seemed to shine the brightest. The water showed all of its ripples they were as numerous as the old man's.
The lake was not too shallow here, although it was a deep body of water. He could see not too much activity in it. A few small, tiny fish darted here and there. Swaying this way and that the little things were keeping rhythm with the beat of the singing insects and night creatures of the darkened nighttime greenery around him. However, the man did notice little lights flickering in and out. He could not tell if it was the fireflies of the night, or if may be the water held it's own illuminating source. He decided the latter as one swift look around showed the flies of fire were not around.
He took a moment to pause and take in his surroundings. The moonlight danced with the ripples of the water. Night blanketed the land casting a world of beautiful darkness. A light breeze swayed the flora as the light mist from the not so shallow lake rose; it intertwined with the sweet smell of fruit baring trees and bushes. The night air held its own song.
He had been a musician in his youth. Or at least he pretended to be. The man had always been able to hear a song no one else could. It was a song that was beating strongly within him everyday. He could never fathom the end of it. There were times when he forced himself to stop but he always heard the same rhythmic melody. It hypnotized him through sad times and happy times, through peace and war. The song helped him live and move on day by emotional day.
Even on the day he started this journey many weeks ago. All alone in his cabin atop a flowery hill he heard a sweet serenade that was unlike anything he had ever listened to. By the days end it was his new mission in life to follow that song to its origin. It had led him to this beautiful land and to this lake. The old man put a hand to his heart. It was racing. He had been at rest for a while now and should have been able to recover his strength. His body shivered and tensed as he realized the song he loved so much was lost. He knew to come to the lake but upon the lake he only heard the song of mundane life chiming away in the night air.
A little voice the elder man often heard and called his own spoke to him now. He knew what was upon him and it saddened him. He followed that song that spawned this journey to its end. He did not want the song to end. There was so much more, there had to be, yet, little he could do about it in the time allotted.
The music he heard now was pitiful, as if a child had been told he could not have the toy he just saw at the market, as if a puppy ran away from his young master. The old man gathered some sparkling water into his joined palms and splashed it to his face. He hoped the water would mask his tears. The same tears that made the pathetic sound coming from his throat. The same tears that told him his journey was over.
At this point the water seemed to glow with unearthly light as if they heard the song of tears. The old man cursed himself for blurring his vision with unwanted sadness. It was clearly becoming morning and he was about to miss a sunrise. Oddly, as he looked up the sky, even with is tears, the old man noticed there was still a shimmering veil of darkness present in the sky. It was not anywhere near sunrise. The light came from the water.
Looking back down into the water of the lake he could not help but edge closer on hands and knees. It was as if a vision were unfolding before him, almost another world. His vision had stopped blurring and he had forgotten his tears. He heard singing. It was beautiful it was the same song he had been following. The same song he thought was lost to him. The old man could feel his heart become at ease. This song seemed as if it would flow forever. What the old man heard was a euphoric sympathy of all that was alive, of everything that existed within him and outside him.
Slowly but swiftly, the man was lulled into a slumber as he slid down to the bottom of the lake with what seemed as the guidance of the water's unearthly luminance. The luminance was the singer of that loving song. The light would hold him and sing to him. He would join the singing light for an eternity of wondrous melodies, of a journey without end.
The old man heard this song, his song, as it began; as it was; as it seemed to end and then was set to repeat even lovelier then before.