And the Bitch is gone....an exercise in writing.

I've noticed the lack of muse lately and did some thinking for a possible exercise.
Here goes.

You are at a crossroad. Each direction will take you to a different place.
North will take you through a snowy forest
South will take you to the ocean.
East will take you to a busy city street.
West will take you to a deserted village.

You are to choose a path and write what you experience. The writer's goal is to stimulate the reader's senses.
You must let them know what it's like to be there as if they see it through your eyes, hear it with your ears, taste it with your mouth, smell what you smell.
Other than the snowy forest, you may choose the weather.

Think about the path you've chosen and why you did.
There is no deadline, no word count...it must be purely from you.
It can be a story or a snippet , what ever.
You may be alone or meeting someone or with someone. Are there animals? is it hot or cold? what is going on in your head when you get to your destination.

Provoke your muse.

I'm going to have a go at this later -Thanks Abs

ABSTRUSE said:

East will take you to a busy city street.

Click to expand...

I couldn't go home yet, but I didn't want to be alone, so I turned east. It was just after 2 a.m., and the denizens of the bars and nightclubs were staggering out into the wet streets, eyes wide at the relative silence that was still so loud compared to where I had been for the last two hours. The rain had done it's best to scrub the air clean but the smells of beer and ciggarette smoke were fighting with the moist breeze, and the undertone of gasoline and back alley never totally leaves.

As I lifted my hands to my forehead to brush the rain from my hair, the other smell that lingered betrayed me. The tangy hint that teased my nostrils reminded me that it had been not only the first but the last time, and my tears came forth again to mix with those of heaven.

I walked alone through the crowd, being jostled by their insignificance but lost in my dream of her.

Anytime you're ready EL.........thanks Bel, feel better now?

Amazing.
This excersize inspires me.

thank you dear.
I will do this in a little bit.

xox

ABSTRUSE said:

Anytime you're ready EL.........thanks Bel, feel better now?

Click to expand...

a little...I think I'm still emotionally hungover from Saturday night...don't know where something that sad came from otherwise...

Gutterslut said:

Amazing.
This excersize inspires me.

thank you dear.
I will do this in a little bit.

xox

Click to expand...

Now that makes me happy to hear.

Belegon said:

a little...I think I'm still emotionally hungover from Saturday night...don't know where something that sad came from otherwise...

Click to expand...

I find that emotions are what drives me to write, then I take what's around me...all the elements and factor them in...then I go there in my mind and create it all.

Re: Re: And the Bitch is gone....an exercise in writing.

Belegon said:

I couldn't go home yet, but I didn't want to be alone, so I turned east. It was just after 2 a.m., and the denizens of the bars and nightclubs were staggering out into the wet streets, eyes wide at the relative silence that was still so loud compared to where I had been for the last two hours. The rain had done it's best to scrub the air clean but the smells of beer and ciggarette smoke were fighting with the moist breeze, and the undertone of gasoline and back alley never totally leaves.

As I lifted my hands to my forehead to brush the rain from my hair, the other smell that lingered betrayed me. The tangy hint that teased my nostrils reminded me that it had been not only the first but the last time, and my tears came forth again to mix with those of heaven.

I walked alone through the crowd, being jostled by their insignificance but lost in my dream of her.

Click to expand...

Heart wrenchingly beautiful

North, always north to the snow. In an hour, a day, a lifetime perhaps it will stop, but never if you keep going north. Where does it end? Standing at the exact center of the earth, a place you can go no further north, each step taking you away? And still the snow.

It's comeing down fast now. big,wet, heavy flakes, that soak your clothes the moment they land. The cold soaks in too, past rapidly shrivling skin, though aching muscles, a cold that seeps into the very core of your being. It helps though, when you are so cold inside the frigid air seems warm. And still the snow.

It's beautiful, coating a landscape of sharp edges and boundaries with a softness. Obscuring landmarks and demarcation points. Stifeling sound, as even your raged brathing becomes muted.

Is there no warmth left in this whole world? Is the ebbing heat of my blood the last source on all the earth? It would be so easy to stop. To lie down and surender to the gentle suffocation.

To say that, to even think it, means the cold has passed into my head. Decisions are slow, the mind dulled, actions become more clumsy with each step.

Yet still I trod on, to the north. And still the snow falls.

South

He's there. Up ahead. I can barely make out his silhouette against the setting sun, yet I feel his heat -- his need. As blood orange and pulsing as the orb itself and as inexorable as the tide, it draws me to him. Come. COME.

As I approach, he senses me and turns. A feral grin plays on his mouth. Tongue darts -- like a snake scenting its prey. Yes, lover. I unbutton, unzip while walking ... almost running now ... leaving a trail of garments in my wake. The scent of the sea fills my pores. Cloying. Heady.

Oblivious to any onlookers, we come together on the black sand at the base of the cliff. Wordless union. Hands grasping. Tongues dancing. I free him -- take him in both hands as he growls against my neck. MINE!

His hands on my ass, pulling, as I wrap one leg around his waist. Fuck me! Here. NOW! Thighs bulging, tense, as he dips for each upward thrust. My foot leaves the sand -- again and again -- as he impales me. Lover!

"Harder," I beg -- and he delivers with a primal groan. I feel him swell inside, pulsing. Another thrust -- two -- three -- and I am lifted into his arms as we crest, together. Mouths meeting in the ultimate hunger.

As he slips from me, I try to stand on shaky legs. We grin at one another, kiss, and finally say, "Hello."

~ ~ ~

These are great......keep going folks.

ABSTRUSE said:

South will take you to the ocean.

Click to expand...

I felt it, calling and pulling at me, like it always did. I finally heard the roar of the waves, and felt the knots in my back begin to uncurl themselves.

It was cold, the wrong time of year to be on the beach, but I welcomed the solitude, and the icy spray hitting my face as I walked close to the edge of the water. The tang of seawater tickled the back of my throat, mingling there with the tears that wanted to come, but that I wouldn't release.

I walked hip-deep into the breakers, ignoring the frigid water, welcoming the feel of the tide. My ring came off easily and I looked at it for a moment before tossing it away from me, back into the water that was my home.

I sighed once, and the rest of the knots undid themselves. I looked out to the horizon, and then said, "Soon....I'll be back soon." Then I turned, and made my way back to solid land, and the reality of the life that awaited me.

ABSTRUSE said:

West will take you to a deserted village.

Click to expand...

The sun hung low in the sky, leaving the silent village glowing in the embers of the day. It hadn’t always been like this. Years ago it had been the site of one of the most mines in the Rhondda valley, unearthing hundreds of tons of coal each day from its blackened depths. Now it was little more than a ghost town. All the essential elements were there – the village library, the clock tower, the rows of neat houses and the local store – but it was as though the small community had fallen asleep one night and simply forgotten to wake.

Thick weeds now fought their way through the paving slabs, obscuring pathways that hadn’t been trodden for dozens of years. I picked her way around the brambles, ignoring the snags in my stockings and the sharp breeze that threatened to gust me off my feet.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I could still hear the distant throb of machinery and clanking from the pit. I could still see the men’s blackened faces as they laughed their way home to bowls of cawl and clean beds. I could identify the crumbling buildings, and remember the families; taste the acrid coal dust and feel the underground vibrations. But more than anything else, I could still feel the dull ache in my heart over sixty years on.



Thank you, Abs! I enjoyed this!

WEST.

The jeep moaned and groaned as it bumped along the jungle path, hitting potholes and branches, nearly shattering my spine. I gripped the wheel tighter with sweaty hands and glanced at the package that somehow managed to stay on the seat next to me.
I smiled to myself thinking how she would squeal with joy when she opened it and found the hand painted silk material inside. We had been in the city two weeks ago to pick up supplies and she spotted it right away in one of the vendor’s stalls near the depot. I knew then that it would be the perfect going away gift.
Three months in this god forsaken jungle was enough for me and I longed to be back in the sterile operating rooms that smelled of antiseptic and shone with all the stainless steel equipment I was spoiled with using. No more concrete walls of the makeshift clinic where the stench of death hung over us like a canopy. We would be home soon and she will have the material made into a dress for the annual ball.
I could picture her in my mind wearing the sapphire fabric embroidered with gold threads and painted flowers and birds as it clung to her body. Her hair would be pulled up and the diamond earrings I gave her last Christmas would be the only other thing she would wear. There would be no visible panty lines, no slipping bra strap, just her and the silken cocoon she would be wrapped in, making heads turn when she walked into the ballroom. She would smell of Jasmine and spice. I could smell it now as I imagined myself wrapping my arms around her waist as I stood behind her and kissed the back of her neck.

Pulling into the compound I sensed something was wrong, there were no sounds and no people. I pulled the jeep to the side of the clinic and I knew there had been an ambush by the local warlord.
The jungle itself was eerily quiet, the birds didn’t squawk or coo. No children were crying or laughing. Where was everyone?
I got out of the jeep and looked around everything was in disarray, they had ransacked and pillaged anything of value. But where the hell were the people?
Sweat began to pour down my forehead and I could feel a sharp sting in the back of my neck. I slapped at the mosquito that paid no attention to what was going on around him. Fucking bastard didn’t care, she just continued on her blood quest. Not anymore. I wiped her smashed carcass off on my khaki’s and moved toward the clinic’s doorway.
I felt a squish beneath my feet. Swallowing hard I was afraid to look down, my heart was beating hard and fast and I could hear the blood hurl itself against my eardrums like demented percussionist.
Slowly I looked down to see I had stepped on a piece of fruit that was laying and rotting in the sun. I let out a sigh of relief and continued inside.
Everything was a shambles, chairs and tables overturned, the cupboards that held all the medicine and supplies were emptied out and I didn’t have to look to know that all of my medical instruments were gone.
Broken glass crunched beneath my boots as I made my way back into the little room that served as our office and living quarters. Papers and books lay scattered on the floor and my footlocker was broken open and emptied. Not that I had anything of value in them but clean socks here were a luxury now gone and probably in the possession of some lackey.
The mug with the picture of the silly cat on it that she gave me was near the desk and now a puzzle of ceramic pieces that could never be put back together again.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted it, the purple scarf I gave her to tie up her hair lay near the cot we had shared earlier that morning. I bent down, picked it up and closed my eyes as I held it to my nose and inhaled deeply. It still smelled of her.
The tears flowed hot down my cheeks; one ran into the corner of my mouth where I could taste its saltiness the other splashed to the ground. I clenched the scarf in my hand and stood up too quickly making myself slightly dizzy. I grabbed onto the doorframe for support when I noticed NYC scratched in ink on the wall. East, they were headed east. I knew that because we made a joke saying each direction of the compass was a city so we would know what part of the compound the other one would be in that day. West was L.A., North was Boston, south was Miami and East was NYC.

I went back out and got into the jeep, started it and slammed into gear as I tore out of the compound leaving a spray of gravel hit the building that should have been busy with the sick and injured.
I headed east, with no plan, no weapons and no back up, all I knew is that I had to find her and leave this damn country once and for all.

ABSTRUSE said:

WEST.

Click to expand...

Damn, Abs! More, please!

Well, that clinches it. I can't follow any of those. I'd be laughed out of the forum. Great work everyone.

impressive said:

Damn, Abs! More, please!

Click to expand...

You first.

CrimsonMaiden said:

Well, that clinches it. I can't follow any of those. I'd be laughed out of the forum. Great work everyone.

Click to expand...

Shut up and write......anything, pretend you're writing for a travel brochure or an article for the paper.......it's really great fun.

ABSTRUSE said:

West will take you to a deserted village.

Click to expand...

I pulled the old Land Rover out of gear and let my foot off the clutch. The incessant sound of gravel crunching under the tires slowly faded as the truck rolled to a stop amid a cloud of fine dust that hung in the dead air. Looking out the dirty windshield through the dust I town that was once called Paradise stretched out ahead of me.

The door opened with a creak as I kicked it open. The floating miasma that was still hanging outside instantly surrounded me, the fine grit stinging my eyes, tasting dry and chalky on my tongue. My heavy boots hit the gravel with a dull thud that raised yet more dust into the dead, hot air.

Holding back a sneeze I reached back inside and flipped of the ignition to the truck, listening as the tired engine shuddered to a stop. Now that the engine was quiet the silence was almost oppressive. No birds sang in the few sparse trees, no wind blew, there weren’t even any flies. Complete silence. It was peaceful but at the same time frightening.

The main street stretched out ahead of me for maybe a hundred yards, lined with perhaps a dozen decaying old wood frame buildings. This street would have been bustling with people a hundred and ten years ago before the silver load had run out but now it was a ghost town.

The general store sat to my left, its ancient hand painted, wood plank sign faded by the long years. However the words “Macarthur’s Dry Goods” could still clearly be made out in the curving old-fashioned script that was favored in those days. The plain wood walls of the building had faded to a gull gray color by the unceasing onslaught of the sun and the roof sagged inward like the back of an old horse, worn out from years of labor. The windows, whose glass had probably been gone for decades, looked dolefully out over the empty street, as if hoping to see a return to better days.

Turning my gaze up the street I could see that many of the buildings were in much of the same condition. In fact, several had already collapsed in on themselves and a couple more looked as if a good push would send them tumbling down. The desolate, forsaken look of the buildings coupled with the oppressive silence gave the town a surreal feeling, like a place that wasn’t entirely of this earth.

As I stood there looking out over the abandoned town, the cooling engine of the Land Rover let out a soft pop, but in the still silent air the soft pop sounded like a gunshot and set my hair standing on end. Looking back up the silent street I suddenly felt like an intruder in a sacred place, an interloper. I could imagine disapproving faces looking out at me through the dark windows of the buildings. I decided that maybe these places weren’t called ghost towns for nothing.

The feeling of dread became heavier as I opened the door of the truck and quickly got in. The buildings still looked at me through the windshield as I fumbled with the ignition. The engine turning over sounded incredibly loud in the silence and I winced inwardly at my decision to shut the engine off. I prayed it would start. Finally, with a sputter and a cough the engine kicked and then idled softly. Not wasting any time I threw the transmission into first and wheeled the truck around, heading back towards civilization, trailing a cloud of dust.

As I looked in the rear view mirror, the town of Paradise was quickly fading into my trailing cloud, but I could have sworn the dark eyes of the abandoned buildings were smiling.

Hey peeps, you can do more than one......let your muse guide you.

ABSTRUSE said:

You are at a crossroad. Each direction will take you to a different place.
North will take you through a snowy forest
South will take you to the ocean.
East will take you to a busy city street.
West will take you to a deserted village.

Click to expand...

"You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike"

Horrible flashback to sitting for hours before a chattering teletype.

Old time geeks will get the reference.

</threadjack>

Re: Re: And the Bitch is gone....an exercise in writing.

Ted-E-Bare said:

"You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike"

Horrible flashback to sitting for hours before a chattering teletype.

Old time geeks will get the reference.

</threadjack>

Click to expand...

I just had a ZORK flashback!

Okay, I'm older then both of you and missed the reference......I'm going South I think, yet now I'm intrigued by the possibilites of what lies east!

k.. ill be writing sumphin...
ill be goin' south
what other direction would i choose? (rhetorical question, that)