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September 8, 2008
September 8, 2008
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Writing and Telling Stories
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The Song--a response to the 2nd word challenge
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The Song--a response to the 2nd word challenge
http://www.aarp.org/community/groups/displayTopic.bt?groupId=11001&topicId=4354432
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snuz said:
on September 22, 2009 11:08 AM ET
Hi Dee-- Didn't try to use most of the words this time. But some of them created this picture--enjoy! The Song
by Snuz Cook 092209
Corrie crouches in the darkness. She puts her hand out to balance herself. The wall of the tunnel is jagged, rocks broken and blasted decades ago through the black shale to create a walkway for people and horses through a ridge between steep valleys. The shale lays tilted in these hills, formed from layers of ancient swamps decaying under the weight of millennia, then turned on its side with the movement of the earth eons ago. Her hand finds a flat, smooth surface to rest upon, and her fingers recognize the faint pattern of a leaf on the flat face of the rock, familiar because she has a half dozen of these pieces of shale with leaf fossils sitting on the dresser in her bedroom.
She wonders when she will make it back home to her cozy bedroom.
She waits, listening. The only sound is dripping, and the echoes of dripping, through the length of the tunnel. But it is not these drips of water she is listening for—it is the sound of the wind, of rushing water or mud, the cracking of trees and boulders. Corrie has sought refuge in the only place of relative safety on this remote mountain trail as a sudden, cataclysmic storm hurtles down the fingers of valleys through the hills.
Her ears pop as the air around her suddenly chills noticeably. Now the subtle sound of dripping is over-spoken by the sound of twigs and leaves skittering into the mouth of the tunnel, and an odd sound that is not quite a sound, like the sensation of a seashell held up to one’s ear. The tunnel is shaped like the letter C and she has chosen a place at the center of the curve, where she cannot see either end. Corrie moves carefully to her left until she can once again see the opening where she had run in, panicked, just moments before. The path beyond the entrance is obscured by a heavy mist. But as she looks, she realizes that it is not a mist, but rain moving sideways with the wind and striking the walls of the entrance, each drop exploding to create a curtain of droplets suspended between two worlds.
Then a crash from behind her, and the sound of rocks tumbling together. Corrie turns and hurries along the uneven floor until she can see the other entrance. The circle of light from the distant opening is obscured almost entirely by a thick mass of branches. As she watches, mud and dirt carrying a large tree ooze into the entrance as the tree has snagged there, diverting part of a large mud slide from the rest of its downward plunge.
Now the sound of the wind can be heard, an eerie voice that slowly fills the tunnel like the deep boom of air blown across the mouth of a pop bottle. As the deep whistle of the wind rises and falls it creates different tones. In Corrie’s imagination it is like the wind is singing to the mountain, a mournful and beautiful song. Like whales singing in the ocean, this song is deep and long and full of an ancient and alien beauty that resonates in her very bones.
Imbedded in this song, Corrie waits for the storm to pass.
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Post #1
dw6831
said:
on September 23, 2009 05:23 AM ET
You have a way of telling a story useing a lot of medafors and thats good it lets others see what you see good job.
Dee
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