For how long, he doesn’t know. For what reason, he can’t recall. But here he is, feet moving one step at a time, eyes unblinking and wide with fear at the sight of an unfamiliar substance falling upon his sloping shoulders. He knows at once he is surrounded; in all directions, tall and motionless bars spring up from the earth, their surfaces covered by the white particles as well. His mind swarms with questions: What are they? What is this? Most importantly, is it poisonous to the touch? Is he slowly dying from its contact?
Why is he here, alone, without an explanation?
His body shrinks back and shivers at the morbid thoughts. His legs buckle down in fear, causing him to land heavily among the gathering flakes, one of which he observes with full attention before it, too, fades away into the white piles building around his body. He decides to remain like this for a while, frozen in place like one of those unmoving bars he has now determined to be harmless. They are quite calming to look at, and he swears that he saw one or two of them sway in the breeze.
Maybe the bars are alive.
Maybe that’s why one of them threw down a big batch of the white stuff on his head. He heard it coming, but he didn’t get up in time. It buries him under so deep that he can taste the dirt. He doesn’t feel an ounce of fear from its sudden embrace, however; a warm feeling spreads out from his heart and moves his droopy mouth up from its frown.
A light snicker escapes him, and soon his laughter fills the air. He laughs, and laughs…he can’t stop, and he doesn’t want to. His mad amusement continues until a drop of tear slides down his cheeks and his vision blurs. Somewhere within, upon that empty canvass of his mind, a memory steadily repaints itself: a briefest remembrance of joy, action, and…and…
Snow. This white substance has a name, and he fully comprehends it for the first time. He keeps walking, one hill after another, toward nowhere that he knows. Small puffs of vapor appear from his mouth, and a sense of coldness creeps over his limps as his forehead burns with sweat. Once he has understood this environment, the sensation begins to grow and take hold until he can finally feel.
And to prove this, he unconsciously grabs a handful of snow and licks the white mess.
~~~~~~~ Uh...hello! I really love reading the stories here so I thought I'd join in. Tips and suggestions are welcome!
For how long, he doesn’t know. For what reason, he can’t recall. But here he is, feet moving one step at a time, eyes unblinking and wide with fear at the sight of an unfamiliar substance falling upon his sloping shoulders. He knows at once he is surrounded; in all directions, tall and motionless bars spring up from the earth, their surfaces covered by the white particles as well. His mind swarms with questions: What are they? What is this? Most importantly, is it poisonous to the touch? Is he slowly dying from its contact?
Why is he here, alone, without an explanation?
His body shrinks back and shivers at the morbid thoughts. His legs buckle down in fear, causing him to land heavily among the gathering flakes, one of which he observes with full attention before it, too, fades away into the white piles building around his body. He decides to remain like this for a while, frozen in place like one of those unmoving bars he has now determined to be harmless. They are quite calming to look at, and he swears that he saw one or two of them sway in the breeze.
Maybe the bars are alive.
Maybe that’s why one of them threw down a big batch of the white stuff on his head. He heard it coming, but he didn’t get up in time. It buries him under so deep that he can taste the dirt. He doesn’t feel an ounce of fear from its sudden embrace, however; a warm feeling spreads out from his heart and moves his droopy mouth up from its frown.
A light snicker escapes him, and soon his laughter fills the air. He laughs, and laughs…he can’t stop, and he doesn’t want to. His mad amusement continues until a drop of tear slides down his cheeks and his vision blurs. Somewhere within, upon that empty canvass of his mind, a memory steadily repaints itself: a briefest remembrance of joy, action, and…and…
Snow. This white substance has a name, and he fully comprehends it for the first time. He keeps walking, one hill after another, toward nowhere that he knows. Small puffs of vapor appear from his mouth, and a sense of coldness creeps over his limps as his forehead burns with sweat. Once he has understood this environment, the sensation begins to grow and take hold until he can finally feel.
And to prove this, he unconsciously grabs a handful of snow and licks the white mess.
~~~~~~~ Uh...hello! I really love reading the stories here so I thought I'd join in. Tips and suggestions are welcome!
For how long, he doesn’t know. For what reason, he can’t recall. But here he is, feet moving one step at a time, eyes unblinking and wide with fear at the sight of an unfamiliar substance falling upon his sloping shoulders. He knows at once he is surrounded; in all directions, tall and motionless bars spring up from the earth, their surfaces covered by the white particles as well. His mind swarms with questions: What are they? What is this? Most importantly, is it poisonous to the touch? Is he slowly dying from its contact?
* * *
~~~~~~~ Uh...hello! I really love reading the stories here so I thought I'd join in. Tips and suggestions are welcome!
Oh, wow. . . When I read that, I felt as if I were really there in the snowy forest. . . That was beautiful.
Hello, there! Are you new to the Eternals? I really like the beginning of this story! I can't think of any tips or suggestions for ya, 'cause you already seem to have the hang of writing.
Thank you for the welcomes!! And thank you for reading!! c:
~~~~~~~
A wave of icy coolness washes over him. His head shakes and freezes as he hungrily gulps it down.
How strange! It cannot fill his hunger despite its everlasting amount and expandable size. The same-old vacant spot reclines in his belly as a hole he cannot seal no matter how much he devours or how quick he shoves the snow into his mouth. Bite after bite of the white substance, and he is still not satisfied. His hands eventually cease the clawing and digging when he recognizes its uselessness and the danger its mass-consumption may present.
The tips of his hands feel numb, and it is only with excessive huffing that he is able to bring them back to normality.
He thinks of what to do next, what people usually do with snow when it comes around (at least, what he remembers of it). His hands come together and, with gentle swipes, shape the snow into a rounded sphere.
He gasps at its perfectness and pats its smooth surface several times:
Tap! Tap!
While one of his hand sinks in and creates marks on the snowball, the other swoops in to flatten out the dentures. This went on and on until red and orange lights dance upon the field of snow before him and mark out the final hours of daylight. He glances at them in a daze. What should he do now? Where should he go? He was walking straight ahead…should he continue the journey?
He looks back at his hands. The former snowball is now a chopped layer of melted ice laying right aside the rest of the precipitation. Its spherical beauty has disappeared under the rays of the setting sun, and the bars-no, trees-are returning to their original brown coatings. Oh, how long has it been? How long ago was the snow feast?
“I want to go home.” He states. But what home? Where did he come from? He was walking dead ahead…should he turn around? Is home in the opposite direction? Or is it located at wherever he was going?
“I want to go home.” He moves his feet with uncertainty. Exhaustion plays about his brows, and his eyes are sleepy. He can’t stay here in the snow! But where will he go? Where can he go?
“I…want…to go HOME!” He stumbles and dives head-first into the snow. He munches at them, gulps them down into his system.
Mouthful and mouthful of snow…
“W-what are you doing?” Another gulp of snow, another bite of snow…
“Hey! Stop, stop!” A pair of hands is pulling at him, hindering his movements. He struggles and pushes more snow into his mouth.
Thank you for the welcomes!! And thank you for reading!! c:
~~~~~~~
A wave of icy coolness washes over him. His head shakes and freezes as he hungrily gulps it down.
How strange! It cannot fill his hunger despite its everlasting amount and expandable size. The same-old vacant spot reclines in his belly as a hole he cannot seal no matter how much he devours or how quick he shoves the snow into his mouth. Bite after bite of the white substance, and he is still not satisfied. His hands eventually cease the clawing and digging when he recognizes its uselessness and the danger its mass-consumption may present.
The tips of his hands feel numb, and it is only with excessive huffing that he is able to bring them back to normality.
He thinks of what to do next, what people usually do with snow when it comes around (at least, what he remembers of it). His hands come together and, with gentle swipes, shape the snow into a rounded sphere.
He gasps at its perfectness and pats its smooth surface several times:
Tap! Tap!
While one of his hand sinks in and creates marks on the snowball, the other swoops in to flatten out the dentures. This went on and on until red and orange lights dance upon the field of snow before him and mark out the final hours of daylight. He glances at them in a daze. What should he do now? Where should he go? He was walking straight ahead…should he continue the journey?
He looks back at his hands. The former snowball is now a chopped layer of melted ice laying right aside the rest of the precipitation. Its spherical beauty has disappeared under the rays of the setting sun, and the bars-no, trees-are returning to their original brown coatings. Oh, how long has it been? How long ago was the snow feast?
“I want to go home.” He states. But what home? Where did he come from? He was walking dead ahead…should he turn around? Is home in the opposite direction? Or is it located at wherever he was going?
“I want to go home.” He moves his feet with uncertainty. Exhaustion plays about his brows, and his eyes are sleepy. He can’t stay here in the snow! But where will he go? Where can he go?
“I…want…to go HOME!” He stumbles and dives head-first into the snow. He munches at them, gulps them down into his system.
Mouthful and mouthful of snow…
“W-what are you doing?” Another gulp of snow, another bite of snow…
“Hey! Stop, stop!” A pair of hands is pulling at him, hindering his movements. He struggles and pushes more snow into his mouth.
-last edited on Dec 30, 2017 16:16:51 GMT by K66: Hello to anyone who is seeing this. :P
Post by K66 on Dec 30, 2017 16:16:11 GMT
Yay! New part.
Could of sworn I bookmarked this. Oh well. It is now.
This is really great. But who is the stranger? Why doesn't he remember anything? Well, except for snow and trees, but you get my drift. Why is he eating snow?
These questions may never be answered. At least until the next part is up.
Could of sworn I bookmarked this. Oh well. It is now.
This is really great. But who is the stranger? Why doesn't he remember anything? Well, except for snow and trees, but you get my drift. Why is he eating snow?
These questions may never be answered. At least until the next part is up.
@bold: That's the question I ask myself every time I see my brother outside in the snow.
Could of sworn I bookmarked this. Oh well. It is now.
This is really great. But who is the stranger? Why doesn't he remember anything? Well, except for snow and trees, but you get my drift. Why is he eating snow?
These questions may never be answered. At least until the next part is up.
@bold: That's the question I ask myself every time I see my brother outside in the snow.
-last edited on Jan 21, 2018 18:04:25 GMT by TeaLeaf❀
Post by TeaLeaf❀ on Jan 21, 2018 18:03:28 GMT
“STOP EATING THE SNOW!!” A voice cries.
His body snaps up violently as he coughs out the white substance. Hands begin to hammer at his back, forcing him to crouch down while more snow pours out from his mouth and gathers up into tiny hills. He breathes in deeply when the snow finally stops its flow. Black dots gather at the edges of his eyes as his body falls onto its side. Then all is calm. He hears nothing other than the sound of his own weak, shallow breathing.
Did he imagine the voice?
“A-are you okay?” A young voice breaks the silence. He brings himself up then, after nodding lightly in response, drops back open-armed into the snow. His eyes are still closed, and he is too tired to force them open. His mind spins and aches without an end.
“Ah…ah…”
“Does your head hurt?” He nods again, moaning a little this time when the pain hits. “This is why you shouldn’t eat snow. It’s just like eating ice cream: you get brain freezes.” “Brain…freezes?” He rubs the side of his head with utter annoyance. “Yeah! I always have them when I eat a second popsicle…Then mom knows I stole one without her permission and I get into trouble-”
“Pop…sicle? Ice…cream?” The unfamiliar words slur when he repeats them. The headaches are still coming strong. “What, you don’t what they are? But you-” The voice pauses. He then hears footsteps shifting from side to side, as if to examine him closer. “You look like an adult. An older teen, at least. Why don’t you know what an ‘ice cream’ is?” “Ugh….” He curls up into a ball. The pain is unbearable.
“Where do you live?” The voice asks. “Or do you sleep on the streets? I mean, you look clean n’ stuff so…maybe not?” “I…” He sits up, eyes still closed. “I…don’t…know.” “Gee golly.” The voice considers his response.
Slowly, he opens his eyes and peers up. There, half-kneeing in the snow, a young boy meets his graze with his own pair of bright brown eyes. Messy streaks of dark-colored hair ruffle back as the youngster gives a warming smile.
“There you are! You have pretty eyes, mister.”
~~~~~~~~ Still working out the story. But in the meantime, have some dialogues.
![[uni]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/mPKcREJAtrpeAXSOgaOH.png)
![[y]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/WYWPH2VRo26pOFDid7QZ.png)
![[derp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/YqNTPqyQUocVMYXZgUAI.png)