Slipping

[Azuran]

There was some confusion/ambiguity about where this should go...feel free to move it as necessary...

 

 

He stood at the edge of despair, marveling at the steady current of air blowing up at his emotionless face from the dusty rocks far below. It produced the thrilling sensation that he was already moving downwards, falling through the cool evening air. He closed his eyes and looked up out of the deep pit of his mind as dirt began to trickle down, burying thoughts and memories that clawed frantically at the sides unable to escape. His consciousness blinked and he stood frozen, the forms of hundreds swirling past him in all directions, unnoticing, uncaring. He yearned to shout at them all, his mind screaming but his lungs vacant. Gasping for breath, suffocating under the heavy layers of his own doubt, he wondered when this had happened. When had he been left behind, aching for attention without thought for well being?

 

Ignorance wasn’t bliss, nor innocence safety. Confusion was ubiquitous and solitude manifest. The heart desires but the mind knows better. Dreams, crushed into delicate shards littering the warped floor, draw blood from his bare feet as he takes a step. The darkness rushes in around him, tearing at his face, his clothes, his heart. His eyes fly open and he trips over a small rock, half buried behind his left foot. Regret works both ways.

[Tanuchan]

Really good imagery here, Az... every time I read this, different parts seemed to call my attention; there's strength, packed tight - I'd say an almost hypnotic tension. The long sentences made me quite breathless, and I think they add to what you wanted to express here. It's an intriguing piece, and I can understand why you opted by posting at the Banquet Room.

 

The end kept me wondering, though... was it all a dream, a wish, a memory? The shift from past/present made me think so, and the abrupt sense of awakening at the end.

 

I don't know if this was the effect you expected, but these were my reactions. Again, an intriguing piece, and I like it.

[Azuran]

Writing this I had two worlds in mind...one when his eyes are open and one while they're closed. The latter is the inner struggle--like you said, sort of a dream or a memory. The beginning and the end, however, are much grounded and real, but it's unclear even to me just how real. It felt like when desperation fades back into rational thought...maybe there's both good and bad in that. And of course the last sentence is intended to make you wonder about that, or something similar. The whole thing might be a little too rushed though, I can never seem to produce adequate volume

[Wyvern]

I really like this piece, Azuran. :-) I think that it falls into the realm of prose, but can see where the confusion over where to post it arises from since it's very poetic in its descriptions. As Tanuchan mentioned, the imagery and wording of the piece are very original and well-incorporated. I especially liked how you described the sensation of falling evoked by the wind, as it really gave off a good sense of the protagonist's interior emotions and brought the sensation to life.

 

One thing that struck me as a bit odd in this piece was that the first paragraph really drew me into the emotions of the protagonist, while the second set me at a great distance from him. I found the shift quite interesting, though rather jarring since it came so suddenly. On a side note: I didn't think that the more general statements in the last paragraph, such as "The heart desires but the mind knows better," really added anything to the piece since they're sort of common knowledge.

 

Very well done once again, particularly with the descriptions conveying feelings and emotions. Thanks for sharing.

[DL_Snake]

wow azzie!! marvelous piece...can't wait for more =]

[Azuran]

Thanks for the advice from those who gave it. Here's a mildly revised version.

 

 

He stood at the edge of despair, marveling at the steady current of air blowing against his emotionless face from the dusty rocks far below. It produced the thrilling sensation that he was already moving downwards, falling through the cool evening air. He closed his eyes and looked up out of the deep pit of his mind; the dark earthen walls conceded only the fading gash of light far above, where the jagged black silhouette of the edge seemed to move ever inwards. Dirt began to trickle down, covering him in filth and burying thoughts and memories that clawed frantically at the sides unable to climb and escape. His consciousness blinked and he stood frozen, the forms of hundreds swirling past him in all directions, unnoticing, uncaring. He yearned to shout at them all, his mind screaming but his lungs as vacant as his infected heart. Gasping for breath, suffocating under the heavy layers of his own doubt, he wondered when this had happened. When had he been left behind, aching for attention without thought for well being?

 

Confusion is ubiquitous and at last, solitude manifest. Naked and exposed, the heart aches to burst and destroy the festering sickness contained therein, but his mind knows better. Dreams, crushed into delicate shards littering the warped floor, draw blood from his bare feet as he takes a step. The darkness rushes in around him, tearing at his face, his clothes, his heart. His eyes fly open and he falters, tripping backwards over a small rock, half buried behind his left foot. Regret works both ways.

[Tanuchan]

I keep enjoying this piece, more as the more I read it.

 

I think the small changes in the first paragraph strengthened the description and feeling; it draws me in more than ever, and in a more powerful way. However, the second paragraph still feels a bit off - like a broken rhythm; although the abrupt change fits your intention, I feel the last sentences flow much better than the beginning of the paragraph.

 

For some reason, this sentence

 

Naked and exposed, the heart aches to burst and destroy the festering sickness contained therein, but his mind knows better.

 

keeps making me lose the rhythm... it might be that "his mind knows better" is still a bit too general - what/why does it know better?

 

Of course, it might just be myself wanting to read the second paragraph the same way as the first, while you might want to keep the distance...

 

Also, a detail that for some reason didn't call my attention in the first version but now does: in

 

Dreams, crushed into delicate shards littering the warped floor, draw blood from his bare feet as he takes a step.

 

the contrast between the shards being delicate but drawing blood doesn't work too well for me... the word "delicate" seems to be in direct opposition to all the feelings you elicited through the piece.

 

 

 

... just my thoughts/feelings

 

Thank you for working again on this one and sharing with us the results! It's a strong, involving piece, and I really like it.

 

*huggles*