The opening few paragraphs to my currently incomplete novel.
Introduction
In the humid, suffocating heat, summer usurps winter. Children play in streets; lawnmowers eat the past season's defective growth. Sentient animation surrounds all once dead. Trees green. Flowers fertile. The taste of earth, pollen and freshly cut grass stimulates and salivates; the senses are governed by the season. Winter was tasteless and bitter; summer is dense with sensation- an overbearing consciousness of every living form.A low hum rings ominous from nearby woods. Through budding breeds of dandelions and bracken, a chaotic cloud of insects asphyxiates a lifeless mass like vacuous bees on sweet honey: Disorder on stillness, sweet bitter death. Pungent scents and an organised hurried motion; the insects embody their own form, and besiege the dank and morbid remains.
In a world where death is life, and life is death; we live to be the soil, the earth, and the animals: Fauna. Nature prevails, and nurture is left nothing but a blueprint on our indefinitely temporary cerebral matter- transient.
Short story by Toulouse Wolfe.
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Written on 2010-06-06 at 19:28
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Toulouse Wolfe. |
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