“I look at the trees, green and growing, and I see a ruin of skeletal limbs, black bark against a stark white sky. Winter, forever. Or, worse, just a stump. Nothing left at all.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s the same… with everything. Inside, there’s a death, clawing its way to the surface. Inevitable.” His hands wrung each other, pale fish writhing in a sunless well.
“Look deeper,” she said. She held out the bit of spongy wood she’d taken from the trunk. The soft white bulb of a mushroom clung to its surface. “Just a little deeper inside.”
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4 comments:
His hands wrung each other, pale fish writhing in a sunless well.
Great metaphor. Nice imagery throughout and a beautifully poignant tone.
once again, totally reminding me of The Amber Spyglass...
Loren - Glad you liked it. As you may have noticed from the tags, I was more ambivalent. Mind, I do love metaphors (too much) and flitterfics rarely have room for a really good one (unless the metaphor IS the entire flitterfic, at which point it ends up a trifle actionless.)
Mandi - I'd still have to have read the books to know what you're talking about, chica. :-P I only ever read the first one, and that nearly a decade ago...
i'll keep on it till u read it ;D
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