I challenge you....

[ABSTRUSE]

I challenge you to come up with a small vignette, the catch is to use color and texture as a descriptive in a situation where a catastrophe turns into a matter of survival.

Ex: The titanic sinking, a volcano eruption, lost in a desert, rapids, .....

Your emotions are the catalyst. Use your senses as well. Paint a scene with your words that allows the reader to not only feel but visualize in glorious technicolor what is going on.

Think you can do it? In 500 words or less?

I triple dog dare you.
Abs.

 

[neonlyte]

is this the kind of thing? It is an extract from the introduction of the novel I'm currently working upon.

"The symbolism of the day, the first in a series of church burnings exactly twelve hundred years after the Viking raid on Lindisfarne, was lost on everyone except Grish, and possibly the girl, whose only reservation was in not knowing the who or what of Lindisfarne; it was certainly lost on the media and newspapers whom saw satanic and neo-nazi influences at the root of the burnings. Her reason for being present was strictly personal, he'd promised her they would pledge themselves to one another, bound by the alter sacrifice of the live hare now trussed amongst the petrol cans in the boot of the car. A pagan marriage he called it, solemnised in blood and the exchange of gifts; his gift was already growing in her womb, the 'ceremony' was to be his acknowledgement of pending fatherhood, she couldn't really have expected more.

The slight nausea brought on by her condition and exasperated by a drive that would have been uncomfortable without Grish's virtuoso driving style threatened to overwhelm her as he sprayed blood from the throat slit convulsing hare into her cupped hands, the sticky warmth and sweet smell forcing her to swallow hard to counter a gag reflex. He chanted some incantation, it was supposed to be 'old norsk' to impress his cohorts, but he told her he made up the chants in one of those rare moments early on in a relationship when to confess conveys intimacy and a willingness to share secrets. She forgot his deception for the moment, barely listening, not wanting to spoil the moment, such as it was, by throwing up, and by the time they'd poured petrol across the pews, floor and doorways of the church she was reeling with dizziness.

Once outside, Grish directed his troops, one to each flank of the church, on his command they ran forward and cast lit rags through windows and doors opened for the purpose. She watched as flames flickered yellow and blue at the rag she'd thrown just inside the church entrance, not thinking to run back, not prepared for the sudden explosive force of petrol fumes igniting, bowling her backwards across the grass, renting the silence of the night with an unnatural and unmistakable roar of explosive malevolence. She clasped her hands to her ears, scrambling backwards as if afraid the flames would reach out to claim her, then turned and ran into the covering protection of the trees surrounding the clearing that once embraced a church.

The full horror of her involvement dawned as she watched the flames lick across the centuries old timbers of the church silhouetting the stylised dragonhead finals decorating the shingle tiled roof, almost a thousand years of history screaming out its memories as the searing heat of the flames burst upon the timber. She could see the other three to one side, near the car, calling for her, and clearly in some panic, the fire more spectacular than Grish ever expected and the piercing sirens of police and fire appliances urging escape. She hid until the car sped off, then made her way deeper into the woods."

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Gee, Abs, Am I the only one who thinks when he sees a challenge this strangely specific that the challenger has already written such a piece for one reason or another, and needs a place to post it?

Or is there something about colors/textures and natural disasters that turn into matters of survival that just lends itself well to a writing challenge?

--Zoot

It was the lava the texture of cheese vomit that set his shoes afire and caused him to run screaming for his life.

 

[neonlyte]

Gee, Abs, Am I the only one who thinks when he sees a challenge this strangely specific that the challenger has already written such a piece for one reason or another, and needs a place to post it?

Or is there something about colors/textures and natural disasters that turn into matters of survival that just lends itself well to a writing challenge?

--Zoot

It was the lava the texture of cheese vomit that set his shoes afire and caused him to run screaming for his life.

It's just a place to toot your horn Zoot - can't always do by posting stories.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

Gee, Abs, Am I the only one who thinks when he sees a challenge this strangely specific that the challenger has already written such a piece for one reason or another, and needs a place to post it?

Or is there something about colors/textures and natural disasters that turn into matters of survival that just lends itself well to a writing challenge?

--Zoot

It was the lava the texture of cheese vomit that set his shoes afire and caused him to run screaming for his life.

I'm challenging you not me............and you didn't use color.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

It's just a place to toot your horn Zoot - can't always do by posting stories.

Toot away!!!

 

[McKenna]

I'll take a stab at it:

They say white is the color of heaven, of purity, of innocence and light. White is anything but heaven when facing the water on the middle fork of the Salmon River in Idaho. It’s anything but innocent and light, too, though the level of white-water purity is unsurpassed.

Self-proclaimed white-water capital of the world, the Salmon snakes and slithers through the Payette and Salmon-Challis National forests like a shade through the depths of Dante’s hell. Impassable Canyon offers some of the best rapids, but if you’re an innocent and embark on an unguided tour, chances are you’ll see heaven or hell in the midst of that white deluge. The river takes no prisoners, only victims. If you chance to ride her current, do so respectfully with the full knowledge that she’s allowing you the run, not vice versa. Riding the Salmon isn’t a matter of man over nature; bullshit machismo is left at the launch site. It’s pure and honest raging water, the force of Mother Nature, the glory of her inner sanctum revealed to a precious few who are privileged to see it –and for some, the welcome embrace of cold, white nirvana.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

They say white is the color of heaven, of purity, of innocence and light. White is anything but heaven when facing the water on the middle fork of the Salmon River in Idaho. It’s anything but innocent and light, too, though the level of white-water purity is unsurpassed.

Self-proclaimed white-water capital of the world, the Salmon snakes and slithers through the Payette and Salmon-Challis National forests like a shade through the depths of Dante’s hell. Impassable Canyon offers some of the best rapids, but if you’re an innocent and embark on an unguided tour, chances are you’ll see heaven or hell in the midst of that white deluge. The river takes no prisoners, only victims. If you chance to ride her current, do so respectfully with the full knowledge that she’s allowing you the run, not vice versa. Riding the Salmon isn’t a matter of man over nature; bullshit machismo is left at the launch site. It’s pure and honest raging water, the force of Mother Nature, the glory of her inner sanctum revealed to a precious few who are privileged to see it –and for some, the welcome embrace of cold, white nirvana.

You have done well my child.

Thank you.

 

[Dar~]

Deep red, almost purple, but not quite. I didn't know it would look like that. I expected jets of red, like liquid fire. Just like everything in my life, darker and expectations not met. It seemed almost evil, this flow of red-black. I felt no pain, only vague disinterest. How was I supposed to feel? When the blade first scraped my skin I felt a tinge of fear, a deep fear of the unknown, but the unknown was vastly more appealing than the life I had now. So I cut deeper, relishing the bite of the blade against the tender skin of my wrist. Slice downward, not across. First it was a bead of black. As dark as my outlook. She had left, she took my son and she took my light. Everyday was dark. A single tear showed me how clear the path was. I had nothing. Sinking the blade irrepairably deep, I caught my breath and watched my life flow out of me, the blood as dark as my pain. I watched the pain spurt frorm me, and life was gone.

 

[McKenna]

Deep red, almost purple, but not quite. I didn't know it would look like that. I expected jets of red, like liquid fire. Just like everything in my life, darker and expectations not met. It seemed almost evil, this flow of red-black. I felt no pain, only vague disinterest. How was I supposed to feel? When the blade first scraped my skin I felt a tinge of fear, a deep fear of the unknown, but the unknown was vastly more appealing than the life I had now. So I cut deeper, relishing the bite of the blade against the tender skin of my wrist. Slice downward, not across. First it was a bead of black. As dark as my outlook. She had left, she took my son and she took my light. Everyday was dark. A single tear showed me how clear the path was. I had nothing. Sinking the blade irrepairably deep, I caught my breath and watched my life flow out of me, the blood as dark as my pain. I watched the pain spurt frorm me, and life was gone.

I think I need to watch a happy/feel-good movie now, just to counteract the effect of your narrative. Well done Dar.

 

[Dar~]

I think I need to watch a happy/feel-good movie now, just to counteract the effect of your narrative. Well done Dar.

Thanks
No worries, I just knew this would emote well. I realize though that I didnt use texture. May have to rework it a bit.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

Deep red, almost purple, but not quite. I didn't know it would look like that. I expected jets of red, like liquid fire. Just like everything in my life, darker and expectations not met. It seemed almost evil, this flow of red-black. I felt no pain, only vague disinterest. How was I supposed to feel? When the blade first scraped my skin I felt a tinge of fear, a deep fear of the unknown, but the unknown was vastly more appealing than the life I had now. So I cut deeper, relishing the bite of the blade against the tender skin of my wrist. Slice downward, not across. First it was a bead of black. As dark as my outlook. She had left, she took my son and she took my light. Everyday was dark. A single tear showed me how clear the path was. I had nothing. Sinking the blade irrepairably deep, I caught my breath and watched my life flow out of me, the blood as dark as my pain. I watched the pain spurt frorm me, and life was gone.

Splendid, you blew me away.

McKenna: I suggest Moonstruck, that's my feel good movie. Italian food and slapping faces....ahhhhhhh.

 

[McKenna]

~bump~

 

[sophia jane]

bumping for Abs