Dark Field Chronicles

[wanderer]

This is something that caused me lots of embarrassment in the creative writing classes some ages ago at high school. Even that lanky in-charge lady poked fun at me. So I am not sure why I kept this hidden as a book marker. I picked up Ivanhoe today to lend to someone, when it dropped off on the floor. SHIT, what was I thinking! Stephen King in the making of turd!? Well, at least it seems funny now (included in the package is all that comedy of grammatical errors). And I am shoving it out here ............................

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There was flash of lightening across the dark cloud laden sky. An enormous roar followed and then it was eerily quiet. The boy felt an uneasiness spreading inside him. The still of the air worked on his nerves and made the skin prick. He tried to shake off the sudden loneliness in his mind and looked across at the sheep grazing on the shadowy hill pasture. It would be raining soon, and he should be heading home, he knew. No doubt something felt much more horribly wrong than a simple extinct. But what exactly was that, his child mind couldn't comprehend. Maybe it was sudden darkness perhaps? He tried playing big boy but failed miserably. He nervously glanced across at his sheep once more. They seemed to be afraid as well. That or they sensed his fear.

For once he had this sudden urge to just run away like hell and hide in his shack. But that won't do. It would mean trouble for him from folks at home, leaving the herd alone here. He turned his back towards the pasture and still contemplated the notion. His heart was beating with dramatic persistence of breaking free now. Sweat broke on his face as he suddenly felt that stillness and quite of the air had gone dead. Not even dreadfully silent, but just dead - as if world had been born mute. A horrible shivering crept up his spine. The fear ranked his breath and silently shrieked at being part of him. He bit his lip and dared a slow glance over his shoulder towards the pasture. A coppery taste swelled up in his nostrils and mouth, his legs going weak at the joints. His nerves pulsed with overdoses of blood. All across the small hill, the tiny forms of his sheep were standing still. Standing still and staring at him. His legs refused to run and an endlessly evil obscurity started falling on him. He knew he was fading out - completely paralyzed by fear. At some back yard functioning chamber of his brain, something told him to run. But all his rational thoughts and feelings seemed to have condensed somewhere far beyond. Only that was left in him now, was a black dread. He felt him sliding towards the ground, unable to control his limbs anymore. His eyes were closing and darkness was now very close. Last thing he thought he saw was his sheep. Sheep, who were now smiling with human faces.
**********


Yeah! I know. Thought, I did some more in the so called 'chronicles' and they were not super-bad. Strange that only this one survived.

[JBKlyde]

interesting...

[Ocean's Edge]

"it was a dark and stormy night" ... *grins*


But no, in all seriousness - it ain't great, but you WROTE it.... I've written a ton of crap, and I'll write a ton of crap more, because if you're a writer, you write .... and whether or not you ever get great, you will get better, it's the only way to get better, ....

so WOOT - go you!

[wanderer]

Right, Ocean.
In my days, when I tried to be Robert Jordan, I have penned my share of enough crap. But I never felt it was all waste. At least, I got some command over my language skills