sorry just a story i wrote

Discussion in 'The Artist's Corner' started by deicide, Oct 15, 2001.

  1. Then as I looked unto the valleys, Through a window frame of branches and twigs from the old tree I could see different civilisations each with there own little cultures and rituals, green hills with small hamlets and villages dotted around the landscape. The biggest town I could see was Higgleberry Cross. The flies had told me that Higgleberry cross was one of the safer parts of the valleys, free from the ghouls and spectres that haunted certain parts of the valley when the hue was low. One day my acquaintances and me decided we would journey to Higgleberry Cross, to see the sights the flies had told me about. The journey was a long one, 3 and a half days by foot. We stocked up on berries at the tree. And set off. No one we knew had ever been to Higgleberry Cross before so it was a new expedition to us. On the way we camped just next to a magic brook and feasted upon berries and magic brook water. After a good nights sleep, we set off to complete our journey. We followed the magic brook all the way to the old train tunnels, where we turned left and followed a green path, glowing slightly because of an increase in hue. When at last we arrived at Higgleberry cross, we explored the old town and visited the famous hue pool, glowing fabulous colours unknown to us. At lunch we ate the rest of our berries and then went to sleep under a small tree. The first of us to awake was Fale who woke us all up to remind us of the hue fireworks at 7.00. When we got back to the hue pool, where the inhabitants of Higgleberry Cross were gathering there was a hint of excitement in the air. The hue pool was beginning to heave and spit, the fireworks were about to begin. A few minutes later we heard a spitting sound, and a small droplet of pure hue shot high into the sky, before exploding into a magic array of colour changing stars. After this wonderful visual treat we retired to our campsite, where we built a fire using some wood we picked up by the old inn. The fire burned brightly with a slight green and orange hint. The trees were the life of the valleys, the hue, which is the juice of life, is present inside everything, inside us, the soil, the grass, the trees and all other forms of life. Without hue, there would be nothing. The warmth of the fire encaptivated all of us, it surrounded and bewildered our faces, the colourful flames licking the crusty bark. Suddenly I had an idea; I had taken a flask of pure hue from the hue pool. I asked my acquaintances if I should do it, they approved my idea. I slowly opened the flask, the hue; changing its glorious colours as it was exposed to air was alive. I poured the hue into the fire. The fire blew up gloriously. The colours shining off our faces into the night sky. Warming the depths of our souls with its magic. When the fire had died down, we retired to our tent to sleep.
    The next morning was indeed a glorious one; the sun (although not important) was shining brightly, adding to the high levels of hue during mid-summer. After breakfast and a short trip to the hue pool, we decided to do some exploring of the surrounding areas of Higgleberry Cross. We set off going east from our campsite, to a small stile, a little slippery from moss, but in perfect condition. We climbed over the stile into the adjacent field. The blades of bright green grass swaying in the soft breeze collapsed under foot, but sprung straight back up again. We decided to head to the dry-stone wall at the end of the field. The hue level was so high each stone was glowing. We kept walking, but we didn’t seem to be going anywhere. After a while we stopped noticing we were walking, and kept going. Suddenly, I realised we were travelling upwards. The grass had turned into stairs and we were climbing them, up and up into the clouds we went. When we reached the top, high above the clouds in the lower stratosphere we could see the whole valley, the villages and hamlets looked so much smaller than they did at the old tree, but strangely they had just as much detail. After taking in the glorious view, I suddenly realised where we were: we were at the top of a hue volcano. Hue, which was produced far beneath the valleys, channelled up into rivers, streams or lakes and sometimes into volcanoes. The only difference being that the hue inside volcanoes was 100% pure. One of the old flies had told me that if you jump into a hue volcano, you are magically transported to another part of the valley. We decided not to do so, as we had not yet explored the whole of Higgleberry Cross.
     
  2. Why the sad face ?

    Writing is more and more becoming a lost art. I personally enjoyed your short story ,and would be willing to read more.You have a nice descriptive flow to your words. Post more anytime !

    ................And next time smile when you say that :)
     
  3. thank you for the quote critter and your 105% right!write what you feel and think ,and dont worry if anyone well like it or not !if you write to enjoy your work so well others! not all but a good write has readers that come back many times for the wtires veiws and out look !throwing books out ,one after another is bad writeing and manytime bad sales to boot!but the write that rights what he thinks and anwsers to him self has only him self to judge and dosnt worry about what others well think !i havent read the post yet but i am going to know!tazz11
     
  4. and yes that was a great story and well written and anything out of place would be strighten by a publisher and proof readers!and should not be by the write ,most good writes do not secound guess any of their work any correction are done only by the publishers and this lets the writer write openly and get the path and flow of there story and writeing! your store is publishable and many would enjoy it as i have and my friends here have!you are on the right path ,you are a writer!good luck tazz11
     
  5. hey rainman how ya doing mate??? :smoke:
     

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