Snippets of Story: February

Friday, March 04, 2016

(c) carmel elizabeth
I was reminded by someone last month that I haven't made this whole snippet-sharing tradition a very consistent habit around here - and though in the past that was due to an inconsistency of writing (which really doesn't leave anything for a post like this), I no longer am in that rut, and would like very much to share my work with you more regularly.

Today I have a piece from Gumusservi - it is the sequel to Psithurism, for those who don't know, and though I'm not writing it full-time yet, I'm always writing bits and pieces here and there as a side-project - or really, as the inspiration comes. ;) This is something I wrote just a few days ago.

I never feel these bits are as good as they could be, but when does any artist? They are beloved nonetheless; I hope you enjoy it.

"“So you are not to be convinced then?” he said, his strong eyes softened to hers.
Her voice was thick when she responded, as though the heat of the tent was slowing her, too.
“I am afraid not” and he nodded, knowing.
“The Light be with you, fair sister.” He pressed his lips to her white palm, bowing as he spoke, and she nodded respectfully. Suddenly he was catching her up close to him, wrapping her in a tight embrace, and she felt hot tears escape her eyes onto his robes, clutching them tightly. “You are stronger than you know,” he whispered into her, and his voice was hoarse too. “But promise me, sister, - promise me you’ll return.” She nodded again, vigorously now, her decorum crumbling under a gasped sob as he withdrew.
She felt the urgency of time; he quickly swiped the tears from under her eyes.
“Don’t cry now.”
“Goodbye, then.”
“I’ll see you on the other side.”
He pressed his forehead to hers once more; she clutched his wrists but avoided his eyes; the lady made a motion that she knew meant time was out. Up and over went the dark, black hood. A drum throbbed somewhere out in the arena.
Thrum. The lady wrapped the mouth-piece across her face.
Thrum. She dropped his hand with a forced release.
Thrum. The desert winds ripped at her headdress as she stepped out into the harsh, orange sunlight …" -GUMUSSERVI

Thoughts, opinions? :)


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