Creative Gamer Girl: November 2015

An old piece of fiction pt 2

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Part 2 of the piece of fiction I found:

His mother had told Jason before the Event happened the news had said his country would be the hottest, while others would get much colder. Jason would rather be in the hotter part of the world than the coldest. The Elders told the stories of how the world had flooded some places, and dried up in others simultaneously over the flames of their campfires. The youngest ones listened to the stories like fairy tales and would never fully understand how much the world had changed.

Jason had been too young to know about the world before the Event, being three or four years old at the time. Now he was eleven and considered this normality. His brother, however, had lived in the world before and sometimes lashed out at how he had to live.

The villager’s return was joyful; everyone, apart from Jason who watched from a distance, exchanged hugs and kisses. His mother cast her eyes over the crowd and saw her son standing back by the tree. She frowned and beckoned him towards the cottage.

Instead, Jason turned ignoring her and walked towards the river. A hush rested on the landscape with only the sound of the birds singing. The wind had gone and there was now a hazy shimmer above the fields and its flowers. The sun was low on the horizon turning the sky the colour of apricot, rose and pearl. It was as if the world was watching and waiting.

Calmly, Jason strolled through the waist length golden flowers, brushing them with the palms of his hands as he walked. They seemed to greet him- opening up to his body then closing behind him. A swallow flittered by his head and up into the clouds. His feet were cushioned by the warm soil.

When he reached the river, Jason did what he always did. He stepped off the bank to a huge piece of rock that sat just above the current. It smelt of iron and was boiling from the sun's rays. He sat crossed legged, hands on his knees and back straight. Looking about him, he drunk in the sight of the willows dipping their branches into the water, the Kingfisher watching and waiting for a fish. The silence was vast; the ripples of the water were nothing in the intense silence of the sky. Jason took a deep breath and began to pray.
‘Dear Gaia, to all that I owe my life and to where I will return once my time is complete. Thank you for bringing a good crop this year. Thank you for bringing my brother home safely from the city and blessing the goat with kids. We are grateful for all you have given us. I am sorry for what pain my ancestors caused you.'
After he had finished his meditation, he continued sitting on the rock, listening to the answer. A sudden breeze lifted the branches of the trees and a willow reached out and brushed his cheek- Jason smiled. As he listened, his ears pricked up to the sound of an engine. He hadn’t heard an engine for a very long time and it took him a few moments to register what it was. First, he thought it was thunder, but it was moving close too fast. Then he heard the yelps of the human passengers and his eyes snapped open.

No one who respected Gaia ever used cars. The city had burnt out vehicles that some people had fixed to run, but normally they would only manage a few miles then cut out. There was no way they would be able to make it all the way to the greenery through the forest, down the dirt tracks and hills. Could they?

Jason stood up in panic, craning his neck to listen to the sound he tried to work out where it was coming from. West. That meant they had crossed the hills rather than risk breaking down in the forest where they would easily be lost and dead.

Could his people hear it too? They probably could, any mechanical noise that wasn’t welcome travelled miles over the fields and pierced their conscience. Jason almost jumped off the rock, but in the last second remembered to kiss his fingers, and looked to the sky with the same kissed fingers. The symbol of love to the earth and to show Gaia his meditation was over.
He jumped to the bank- the Kingfisher launching off as he landed- and began to race through the golden field towards the village. The engine was getting closer and the people who were in the car were screaming with delight. As Jason reached the crest of the hill, he saw his community gathered outside their huts looking towards the west. Jason paused; pleased to see they were preparing and looked towards the west himself. From where he stood, he could see dirt billowing out at the horizon but nothing else.

Creative Snippets

An old piece of fiction

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

I found an old piece of writing on my Dropbox that I wrote back in 2010. It was for an assignment at University. There is more, but I didn't feel like posting the whole lot at once. I like to think my writing has improved a little over the last few years. Enjoy.

Bees buzzed in the clumps of wild flowers by the dirt road, making the air clouded with noise. The smell of jasmine was heavy, mixing with the scent of cooking coming from the huts on the hill. Sparrows sung in the branches of the trees laden with blossom and wood pigeons flew from field to tree transporting materials to build nests. Yellow flowers grew plentiful across the rolling hills.

The tree he sat in was one of the tallest, he could see across the fields as far as the river at the bottom. He could see the huts he called home with goats grazing lazily on the dry grass. He watched as a ladybird landed on his stomach, tickling him with its tiny feet as it strolled towards his bellybutton and rested there for a while.

‘Jason! Where are you?’ his mothers voice pierced the natural silence and he turned over on his front- careful to brush the ladybird off him first- so he could see her through the branches. Resting his chin on his hand, he watched his mother stand with her hands on her hips, looking out towards the yellow field.

‘Up here.’ Jason called.

A goat came to nuzzle at her waist, absentmindedly she brought a hand down and began stroking its nose. ‘Mike will be back soon. Come down please.’

Jason frowned; he didn’t want to see his brother yet. He knew he would come back with exciting stories of who he had met and what he had bargained to get sugar. Maybe he would come back with oil- then Jason would never be able to hear the end of how wonderful he was.

Jason wrapped his legs around the knotted branch and slid off until he was hanging upside down in the air by his knees. He hung there, feeling the blood pound in his ears. A cool wind rustled the flowers and the fronds on the roof of the cottages. Jason shivered. He grabbed the branch and lowered himself to the bleached grass. It crackled between his toes as he felt the warmth from the earth travel to the soles of his feet.

At that moment, the sounds of hooves on the dirt road reached the village and the villagers came out to greet the travellers. Jason hung back, kicking a stone.

His brother was at the head, jumping down before the horse had halted to embrace his mother. They had been gone three days and no one had been sure whether they would come back.

The city was a dangerous place. It was necessary to visit to get the supplies they couldn’t grow themselves. There were gangs with guns who would do anything for sugar, coal and cooking oil. Buildings lay in ruin; grass grew through the potholed tarmac and vines pulled down lampposts. It was much hotter in the city, the sun reflected a thousand times in the shattered glass and black tarmac. It was a different world than the one Jason was used to.