I took some adderall to avoid falling asleep, it made me contemplate the sunset more efficiently. The sun fell like an erythrocyte travelling across the human body. I felt nostalgic. It was pretty. It made want to be on top of the goat tower and stroke a goat's fur while appreciating the sunset. In a way, I felt like I was already on the top of the goat tower.
>>7636354 It seemed to those on the ground that the sun gradually lowered itself into the sea. As it was not cloudy, the sky first took on the colour of salmon flesh before fading into a dark blue punctuated by electric lights: white on the lampposts, red from the cars on one side of the street, white from those on the other. Once it was dark enough scattered stars became the sky's only native points of interest.
The nuclear explosion absconded behind the ledge of the ends of the earth. Light thus eclipsed, quiet death loomed over the exposed island suspended by the pillars of God's Will. Only then was it safe for us to hunt, and hunt we did.
The sunset was royally purple and regicidally orange, a voluptuous luciferian beauty of jiggling gold-rimmed clouds and blue sky flushing to pumpkin and eggplant. To watch anything else was masochism, and to watch the sky was blasphemy. Had Hell such a sky, then the gates of Heaven would be rusted shut.
Flame: it gripped the heavens like a python; dark orange, sharp red, and gentle hues of violet. I breathed. Darkness fled before me, and the shifting buildings and corners of Shirebury Place rose out of the night and into vivid day. I looked directly toward the ascending sphere and felt my corneas scream. Upon this moment, this gaseous demon risen from the pits of hellfire was the totality of mine existence,- my body, my vision, my spirit. The cold air of winter sterilized my lungs as I inhaled, and I took careful note of its contrast in temperature with the heat-rays that now struck my clothes and the pavement upon which I stood.
Sunsets are trite. I prefer the rich imagery of dawn to the collapsing nature of twilight, it being in my nature to construct rather than destroy.
>>7636412 Incredible. On par with our greatest modern authors, a true masterpiece of short creative writing. Are you a professional poet? Please sir, I request another sip of the rich and finely aged wine that is your mind.
>>7636421 >remove the "the"; otherwise this is clever
it's fuckin beckett.
The sun set through the window in my office, it was some combination of colors, but I didn't pay much attention to that. I watched the heat waves warp the buldings a while before returning, distracted, to my work.
fuck the sun; i always preferred darkness anyway, staring at a computer screen at 4 in the morning, dreaming i'm somewhere nicer than my room (but still dark but not too dark like there's lights and stuff)
>>7636431 Am I the only one who dosen't like his prose? It's always "The overdescribed X and the biblically alluded-to Y and the unconventionally presented Z like a simile that nobody would ever think of except a writer desperately playing into the tastes of literary critics and muh run-on sentences connected with strings of ands because it sounds carelessly ineffable and and and..."
what gives? Am i missing something? Yes i know pleb lrn2 prose but at least explain WHY this is any good.
The sun, let me tell ya, this thing's yuge, it comes crashing down, no one wants to say it, but this thing comes crashing down under the ground: where do you think it's going? Where do you think all that light's going?? The sun's going to china every other day, that's where it's going, and that's a bad deal. And Americans are tired of incompetent astronomers. We're gonna make sunsets great again. We are. Really, we are. And it's gonna be great!
As I watched the skyline of this craven city, I saw the windows of the buildings mirror the yellow sun before it moved past. Gold illuminated the architecture, before a steel grey fell. The sky was littered with glowing lights, planes flying to and fro. Soon the yellow returned to the windows, but this time from within. The night was alive once more.
Still possessing heat enough to kink the air, and dazzle water with blinding reflections, it retreated furtively beyond the horizon. Somehow imperceptibly, yet obvious to even the lazy observer, transforming the sky from blue to pink to black.
>>7636447 confused. you have ideas but it seems like they're all borrowed from other sources, so you jumble them together and they contradict each other. >shooting out ever more scorching rays Shooting is a silly way of describing the propagation of light, especially when juxtaposed with rays, which has a more gentle connotation
>as it neared oblivion >the dying curse >of a vengeful immortal If the sun were truly immortal, as you claim it to be, it wouldn't be a "dying" curse, and it wouldn't be "oblivion".
Good potential but really think when you're writing: avoiding cliches isn't enough
>>7636453 it's not that it's impossible to describe lights and their sources, it's just that you do it inelegantly: >white come from here >and red come from here >and white come from other side of where red come from I'm exaggerating but it seems blunt and dull
>>7636456 >this craven city is this Rorschach from the Watchmen or something? tone it down boi >windows of the buildings mirror the yellow sun lackluster. >gold illuminated the architecture how does gold illuminate? and don't refer to the buildings as "architecture"; it's like describing a mountain valley sunset as "the sun illuminated the [SCENERY]" it's an empty cop out >a steel grey fell i've never seen a sunset with grey in it? how does it "fall" etcetera. you're putting so many steps in that you fail to describe any one step sufficiently. strive for depth, not breadth
>>7636461 Thanks for your criticism. What I was thinking in the five seconds during which I wrote that was that by calling the sun immortal and dying at the same time, I would be able to keep the same feel of vengefulness without having to say something about sleeping, which seems rather peaceful.
Idk if that makes sense, but I guess it didn't really work.
You shouldn't look at the sun set. Focus on the peripherals. The clouds, the landscape - or cityscape. Or ocean if you're lucky. The sounds, too. Cause the sounds are different from any other part of day. Sit out until it's the heat leaves you. Head indoors when it's cold. And tell your mom you love her.
>>7636477 yeah I see what you mean. it seems like there are 3 types of learning writers: 1. Those who cannot write without reference to cliches 2. Those who disguise their inability to write without cliches with senseless, out of place verbosity 3. Those who have unique ideas but aren't yet able to organize them. A lot of people, you and me included, seem to struggle with #3
Sunset or sundown, is the daily disappearance of the Sun below the western horizon as a result of Earth's rotation.
The time of sunset is defined in astronomy as the moment when the trailing edge of the Sun's disk disappears below the horizon. Near to the horizon, atmospheric refraction causes the ray path of light from the Sun to be distorted to such an extent that the Sun’s disk is already about one diameter below the horizon when sunset is observed. Sunset is distinct from dusk, which is the time at which the sky becomes completely dark, which occurs when the Sun is approximately eighteen degrees below the horizon. The period between sunset and dusk is called twilight.
>>7636483 nice take on it. given the nature of the prompt and how short the response is, it's kind of impossible to contextually justify how overtly sentimental it is, but it internally coherent and sleek. most people here are describing the sunset itself, but it seems like you're describing the a character's reaction to a sunset; it's a bit more psychological. neat
Sunset found her squatting in the grass, groaning. Every stool was looser than the one before, and smelled fouler. By the time the moon came up she was shitting brown water. The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the stream to suck up more water.
I felt warmth moving lower across my skin, my hairs rising as though to grasp the heat. I heard the slow sigh of the city as it settled in for what they call the "dark". A siren echoed through the towers, an ambulance hurrying somewhere. I felt the warmth by degrees vanish. First my head and the rest of me followed. I was aware now of the wind, its fangs sinking deep, injecting toxin which, if not treated, would leave me dying in a ditch if not cured soon. I hastened my gait, the tapping of my cane guiding me, my hands sensitive to the pressure or void of cracks and bumps on the sidewalk.
>>7636495 >what they call the "dark". >leave me dying in a ditch what is this bullshit >my hands sensitive to the pressure or void of cracks and bumps on the sidewalk almost redeemed yourself with this
He watched as the sun vanished from his eyes, casting darkness upon everything. But he knew that right at this moment it was portraying itself to others: a sunrise, hopes and desires for a new day. How many more times was he going to watch this spectacle? How much time before he would no longer be able to see any light while others feast on the joy of life with all its beauties?
It was chilly. The wind bit at me as I glanced at the sky. The homes on my street seemed crestfallen as the shadows made their faces longer, with darkness under their eyes. I could almost hear them groaning with the wind of their aches and pains. Through the trees I could see scarred purple, with orange rags throughout, not yet an inkling of stars. I leaned forward, shoving my hands into my pockets, hoping to find warmth in them. The insect buzz of the street lamp flicking on made me twitch in surprise before I was bathed in glorious orange.
There is a quietness to day which we often miss from the shoves and grunts of our labor.
Then the late summer's showtime comes and our sweat at last has chance to dry. This drying happens just as windfall says to the orchestra "Tune!, Tune!" and she responds EEE AAA GGG DDD
Cicadas suddenly wake up to say EEE! Birds fly home and the grass lets wind quaver its quilted hair a few more times gently. The night shift rolls out of bed and is not like the city's night shift, for it feels awake and glad. The owls sleep hit snooze like city night shifters.
Sun, beautiful sun! He stands on his podium, he picks up his stick and he taps the corner of his tin stand. With each tap he says, "Bright yellow! Bright yellow like fire!" Old friends come out of the woods and fields and drop their plows and axes, nodding to each other in happy recognition of day's work at last done. And they drink cool river water and the young men take off their shirts and sweep their hands through their wet hair making little patterns to mimic the wheat's last wind maze, and tasting the tiny salt of their cheeks. The women, the women are bright as gold and their men swear them angels!
Then gashes break in the sky, miraculous orange which was not there a few moments ago, suddenly say to those who glance off the tips of pines, as if little children to their papas, "Look at me! I am here!"
O a few go home now, a few kick dust up and make the light scatter even golder, oranger! What joy there is in tired limbs says "watch me turn purple like hot water!" O but let such water be dappled with pink roses and shoots of golden vine!
And the sky, God bless it, obliges, and the orange makes way for pink treble, and the bass booms blue, and a young lady picks at the top button of her young man's shirt, and the old women pretend not to notice when they sneak off to the ridge beyond the wood, and they reflect the sun's dancing colors in their eye-stares, and feel hot breath against colding air, and stay out just a shade too late, for blue become purple become starry night at last.
>>7636354 well, my little OP, a sunset is just when the earth spins so that we can't see it from here. Don't worry so much, It is not gone forever and it will be back again tomorrow. Does that help you understand what it is?
>>7636354 I don't look. All around me I hear distorted sounds of admiration for this mundane event. Had this not happened just yesterday? This was rhetorical; I know it had happened yesterday because I had watched it happen. It made my eyes water. The sun had not asked me to look, it demanded attention. I had tried to look away but, to my horror, had found out that the sun had a way of embedding itself in people's corneas. That was not for me. They won't trick me again.
The sun waves farewell in the nicest way, daintily retracting behind the horizon, doing a two-time jig, sort of waving back at highway drivers with an electromagnetically groovy jitter, eventually giving way to the roaring out stars.
A bright blue sky welcomed the march of men who made their way through the middle of town. The post office gave off a radiance like that of a lighthouse, a glare only revealed on holy days be they of God or state. That day it was of the government, as the clear day deciphered the group of men; one was not like the others. Surrounding him marched five men in uniform ceremonial dress, he wore a shabby suit. Shabby now, but showing signs of once being something to marvel at, it contained a light all its own.
She seemed quite pleased with herself and her not quite innocuous request, feebly attempting to cover her coy smile with a cloth napkin. Golden shards of light were just beginning to cover the table. He closed his eyes briefly and knew he would remember this moment forever. The girl he loved, at his side--his soon to be wife--and the tender unspokenness they shared with one another.
He opened his eyes again to be greeted with her shining face, the whole room now drenched in rose gold and saffron.
>>7636495 >as though >slow sigh of the city >what they call >the "dark" No. >I was aware now of the wind, its fangs sinking deep, injecting toxin which, if not treated, would leave me dying in a ditch if not cured soon. disgusting
>>7636616 >Old friends come out of the woods and fields and drop their plows and axes, nodding to each other in happy recognition of day's work at last done. And they drink cool river water and the young men take off their shirts and sweep their hands through their wet hair making little patterns to mimic the wheat's last wind maze, and tasting the tiny salt of their cheeks. >O a few go home now, a few kick dust up and make the light scatter even golder, oranger! What joy there is in tired limbs... >the old women pretend not to notice when they sneak off to the ridge beyond the wood, and they reflect the sun's dancing colors in their eye-stares, good. rest is shit
>>7636446 You can't remove style from content. His prose and the archaic diction work relative to the narrative and his overall vision. It would be bloody awful, laughable, if he wrote like that within contemporary domestic realism or something
He chased her, tracing arcs in lockstep orbit to that primordial dance. She hid beneath the peaks and Luna behind the clouds, conspiring grand unknowable schemes. And for all the upper firmaments man has never more known and not the idea of distance in those moments.
The sun- or as Malmo called it, the sole queen- descended. Cafe-goers of the past would have had to begin to think about sources of artificial light to read their newspapers headlined with dethroned rulers and market crashes or forgoe them altogether.
Smelling the soon to be Absence of the sole queen would have left some with shivers: of anxiety or anticipation, so Malmo thought. Now, as then, Multitudes of new light bustled and elbowed for supremacy below the fading queen. Yelps and cries grew heralding an internecine war. How fine and proper, Malmo thought, how fine and proper.
The sun, beginning its routine process, began to set. Had Thomas attempted to lift himself, in a literal or emotional sense, from the self-inflicted anguish which enamored him onto his tattered couch, he might of experienced the fleeting visual tapestry that celestial body reflected onto the sky. Perhaps, that would of been the catalyst, the "spark" his peers promised would arrive soon to his life, one that would, "Launch you into stardom my friend! I swear!"
Instead, Thomas cursed at the prospect of being widely known due to circumstances not entirely controlled by only himself. What would be fame if it wasn't by his hands, and his hands only?
'If I were to be roused into action by externalities, I would not even consider continuing down that path, regardless of all the prizes it may bring.' He thought, 'It is those unoringal individuals who regurgitate what they experience, those who write about their own city or their own lives, thinking it is of the most value to everyone.'
During this internal triade, Thomas had not noticed the passage of time, and with the sky now fully dark, he had not only missed the sunset, but was now fifteen minutes late to the dinner Alex had set up for him.
purple clouds scarred the sky from the east, darker and darker, not purple any more, dark grey, blackening, a series of progressively heavier blankets relentlessly smothering the light of day, cloaking the landscape in cold and black in the west, the dimming sun slunk underground, oranging darker as it went
>>7638219 >purple clouds scarred the sky from the east, darker and darker, no longer purple, dark grey, blackening, a series of progressively heavier blankets relentlessly smothering the light of day, cloaking the landscape in cold and black >in the west, the weak dimming sun slunk underground, oranging darker as it went
>be me, 25 >live in Salt Lake City >browsing /b/ >mom tells me to mow the lawn >I go outside >le sun is going down >whatisgoingon.jpeg >I stay there and watch >it goes down until I can't see it anymore >I forgot to do my chores >piss myself with my very big 6" dick >mom is yelling >shutupbitch.ico >I slap her and tell her to make me hot pockets Feels good being alpha tbqh my bros
>>7638572 >or as Malmo called it, the sole queen This is so bad, I can't imagine any context where this would work. Malmo looks like Cliché, the Character, but I would have to analyze more of his to determine that. The second sentence is bland. Second part demonstrates a fine use of the language, but it looks like you're trying too hard, for instance by capitalizing "Absence" or referring, again, to the sun, as "the sole queen".
All in all, this is bad, but not because you lack the technique. You could probably improve it if you give a sincere description of a sunset instead instead of making it too convoluted and mysterious.
>>7638599 Sure. >>7636439 The first sentence is simply a bad description. I don't see how anyone could compare light to viscous, molten metal. The case is similar for the second sentence. This makes me think of a volcano, not a sunset. >>7636387 Perhaps unintentionally, those analogies were very effective. I won't give a long-winded answer, because part of why this is good is because of the brevity. I like how you described the twilight as "setting the horizon ablaze", and it's cohesive with the adjective "predatorial", and also with "fissures" and "sky's burning womb"; everything fits together for an aggressive description of the sunset.
Far behind the square shadows of buildings, there where they couldn't be reached, were the clouds, like a tear in the sky, giving the illusion of plasma with complimenting light. But on the concrete lonely people came and went, never looking up to the colors, almost unreal, that were there for them to enjoy.
a big fucking gay fiery ball disappeared past the horizon and i'm supposed to care about it for some reason. what a fucking joke. this shit happens every single fucking day and yet i'm supposed to take time out to write about it? what's the incentive? absolute fucking bullshit.
>>7638909 thanks >>7638934 I will concede that I didn't know if it should be a colon or semiolon. > cotton rain clouds >Plumes? As in tufts, puffs, pillars, whiffs, wafts etc. etc. >melt as in slowly dissolve the sky into darkness. slowly changing the world from one state to another
>>7636354 Driven mad by his desire, he now watches as the red light slowly grow darker in the distant sky. Soon to be comleatly devouvered by darkness, mixed feelings of accomplishment and regrett fills him. A sparkeling tear rolls down his cheek as he whispers to himself "praise the sun". Its dark. every last bit of humanity has left his old body. All that is left of him is a shadow. A shadow still looking for its sun.
It seemed to be a moment of great importance. Behind us loomed the cold blanket of night, swallowing entire cities in its slow, steady arc across the Earth. In front of us, the once proud master of day had sunk halfway past the sea, its blazing dominion upon the land reduced to a dim purple veil hung over the sky. Down on the beach, we sat in silence, awaiting the inevitable, as the last chunk of gold, shimmering light was cast towards us across the shore, and the sun loosened its grip on the Earth, plummeting into the abyss once more.
>>7638923 "Light is like lava" and "light is like viscous, molten metal" might look the same thing but they're different. The second introduces synesthesia, and suggests that light is viscous, which it is not, even in a metaphorical sense; it's more soft or clear. "The light oozed to horizon, dripping like molten metal" is better and flows nicely.
This is how I see it. Feel free to ignore it and formulate as you wish.
alright, here is my best shot: pretty sure I took something today that was spiked with something so please forgive me if this sucks:
I looked out at the sunset. I've always heard that it was a sight to behold, but I'm looking at it, and I don't feel much. Sure, it's kind of pretty, I guess. But that's kind of just it. It doesn't remind me of fire, or anything like that, it reminds me of Trix yogurt, with colors put together unnaturally. It looks cool but I know it's not going to last very long. Whatever, there will always be more sunsets to see. It happens almost every day, after all.
But you know what I like most of all? Not the sight of the sunset, but the atmosphere it puts on the rest of the earth. When I'm waling through the city, I love the end of day light that it puts on, there's something sort of magic about it, when we know the night is beginning and there's an excitement in the air,a romance that maybe tonight i will experience something I never have before. It is the time of possibility, when I still believe in something.
It was a salty day in Mexico as the sun began to rise, and the bright rays warmed the tears of drug traffickers and pregnant peasants looking up at the impenetrable wall of greatness erected by president trump. Simultaneously, millions of Americans were starting their day, many already hard at work, eager to support their families with fair wages earned from an honest days work.
It's a beautiful thing--of course it comes with a chill wind this time of year: they work together, you see. The wind plays goose skin with you, opens your eyes too; leads them to what's good. And what's good tonight is this: The spotlight's fading from the Earth, one last bow before the final run. What a perfect run it is. Maybe god sprinkled some special dust on the Earth's shoes at just the right time. The results look that way: honey golden; paprika red; coral pink; finally that evening-ocean blue. Feels as though it happened all at once, or not at all, or slow, like dawn till dusk. I won't claim to know what manner of god painted those grains of dust, or sprinkled them on those shoes, but I'll guess--and this is no nosegay of a guess--that god is good.
Helios's chariot soared across the celestial sphere, chased by Selene's own. In its frantic race, Poseidon's realm claimed it, in red and gold. Grieving Selene cried tears of light that dotted the now somber skies, and succumbed as well as her brother had, beneath the black seas of trident might.
Only Eos remained, in the mountains above, to reclaim what was lost. Rebirth anew, the eternal race.
He looked out across the plains, almost on fire as the sun sunk and the blood red clouds hugged wheat fields and bison we're silhouetted in red, foreshadowing their bloody passing. Thems the critters we want, said the ugly man. The boy spit, lets git em he said.
Great Helios, as unyielding and apologetically phallic as an iron bar, penetrated the horizon once more. Going in Ra, his concubine doomed to be blacked by that inevitable negro that waits at the end of all things: darkness. Bitter tears of sympathy for the cuck-star caught the last of the chrysophotos, and I raised my head to greet his wife's son.
Ra rose in the sky early that morning, it’s luminescence erupting in the eastern sky with a crescent of light gray against the navy-black of night. Patrick heard a volcano erupt somewhere in the distance. He sat in the back rounded seat of a hovercraft with the guard. Doctor Abadi was standing a few feet in front of him, directing the young male pilot to the lake far to the north. Patrick lay reclined in his seat with one foot up on his leg. The sunrise bathing his body in vitamin D. His head swam incessantly with voices. Both of the people in the craft and people hundreds upon thousands of kilometers away. The guard acknowledged him peculiarly. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Patrick said. The guard followed his gaze into the east. The star now peaked over in a semicircle sitting atop the ravine, bathing the pink valley in a dull light that reflected off the moist plants, making the precipice of vegetation glow with flecks of gold amongst the outlandish pink of the biosphere, all in unison with the coming gray of morning. The guard didn’t answer.
I already critiqued a bunch of guys, so don't get on my ass about that.
The sun waves farewell in the nicest way, daintily retracting behind the horizon, doing a two-time jig, sort of waving back at highway drivers with an electromagnetically groovy jitter, eventually letting through the roaring out stars.
>>7640266 This is actually great. 'thai whore forced to suck dick at gunpoint' has a great comic music. All I would recommend is that you include an 'a' between 'suck' and 'dick' 'went down' is also an amusing metaphor.
You have great potential imo, consider writing obscene humour more often. If you don't already of course.
The gathering crowd milled around the centre stage as the band tuned their instruments and performed sound checks. Half an hour before they were due to go on, she turned and kissed me hard on the lips, her tongue forcing something small and hard into my mouth; then we were both swallowing, dropping our pills. She took me by the hand and we dived together into the mass of human flesh. We came up with a rush as the bass dropped, along with the sun.
It filled the man with a peculiar type of hope, watching the soft hues of oranges and reds, impossible for any artist but God to truly capture, slowly creep across the sky and consume the pale blue that came before. The man knew that even as he watched darkest dusk descend on his home, someone, somewhere, would be watching the brightest dawn and as the chair beneath him fell, and the rope above him stiffened, he smiled.
>>7641633 meh >>7641660 You made the suicide too obvious at the end, but otherwise good >>7641624 nice >>7641470 Dec >>7640377 Possibly good in context >>7640368 nice >>7640266 Damn, definitely one of the best on the thread >>7640236 Lol the west is on its period, mediocre at best >>7640220 Keep practicing, good potential >>7640209 The ending was parsed together a little too weakly. I feel your style was a mimicry and not indicative of your actual style. 3/10 with huge potential.
Insofar as the sun ever shined upon the life of Gregory, at that moment it certainly ceased to do so. As the sky turned red as blood, he could only think of taking off his pants and reaching for his knob. And so he proceeded.
Sun left the city, not the Earth. What a painful thought that is! In its hospitality, it served everyone; it could not, I suppose, shine and set and rise only for us, yet this felt a betrayal. And there it is: in all the mighty grace, its parting gift; for us - oily clouds descending into fog, and behind it, our pale mistress. In Moscow they stared at the sky, suddenly clear, as if last rays of light evaporated heavy pipe-smoke of factories. In Chicago, two colors, of sun and signs; mixed, the white and yellow birthing nothing inbetween. Athens' graffiti on concrete walls; how sunset spills on to it, what hidden meanings it reveals.
He tried not to think about poetic images like sunsets since they were ultimately just pretty distractions. But with the world turning blue and orange as it does for a few seconds every day the the strength of the walls of his single mindedness was thoroughly tested. They survived another assault.
>>7636354 The enormous mass of hydrogen converted to helium through the process of fission had finished yet another rotation around the planet, and his visual cortex was arranging the ambivalent particles or waves emitted from the celestial mass into a process that he perceived from his position on the planet's litosphere as that of rising of the star from a line that showed the point of limit of his sensory faculty.
I woke up this morning, with the sun down, shining in, I found my mind in a brown paper bag, within, I tripped on a cloud, baby, eight miles high, I tore my mind, on a jagged sky, I just dropped in to see, What condition my condition was in, Yeah, yeah, oh yeah, What condition my condition was in
Every evening mother would admire the sunset. Rave about it every evening. I humoured her, told her it is gorgeous, isn't it. Look at the clouds, and the light, she said, and the. Yes, yes, I said, and returned upstairs, back turned to incandescent West.
And dipping slowly, as the placid face of herbivore bends to meet its mirror on the shimmering surface of well-spring; so did the sun dip to kiss and be enveloped by the nascent rim of the shining sea.
And so the sun began her journey over the horizon, leaving a soft smear of amber that turned clouds into dreams and sea into gold. Tomorrow she would repeat her travels, ever in search of those gilded waters which seem to promise eternal life if one could but take a sip, but whose pursuit only ever entails darkness.
>>7642805 Well, you can use everyday natural phenomena to convey more abstract themes, like sand or waves representing the passage of time. It's important to only do this if it's central to the theme of the story though, and otherwise I agree that a direct description of events is much better.
"we kept turning and turning, eventually we were facing outward. Someone else, somewhere else was facing inward now. All I was left with was a blind spot in the centre of my field of vision where the light had been too much for my eyes to process. While the sky was lit up in oranges and purples I sat and waited for my eyes to recover from the deluge of light.
"What a fucking retard. The sun doesn't set! Goddamn, don't know know any science at all? The Earth rotates! IT'S NOT A SUNSET!", I screamed as I walked away. She had been sitting there against her lady friend talking about how pretty the end of the day due to rotational forces was. The shame in it all is that I was going to take her on a date and we were going to fall in love. She was just too stupid for me though. I replaced the fedora which was too small because mom fucked up in buying the right size upon the top of my head, gave it a tilt, gave a running head start and let my Heelys coast me into the darkness. I could not wait until I got home to post this on /r9k/, so then /pol/ could talk about it, and then take a shit on /lit/.
>>7636354 If Hymen ever loured at marriage-rites And had his alters decked with dusky lights, If ever sun stained heaven with bloody clouds And made it turn with terror on the world, If ever day were turned to ugly night And night made semblance of the hue of hell, This day, this hour, this fatal night Shall fully show the fury of them all.
He clawed at the earth and pulled, with each baked breath inching closer to the shade and receding deeper into delirium. A vision of being swallowed by the desert overcame him, and he knew now that his effort would go unnoticed. In a moment he saw a thousand years of the sun rising and falling over this place, each day a white hot arch rapidly torn across the empty sky. His bare skeleton, flashing pink under splashes of dusk’s painted pastel hues, is whittled away by the lathe of the shifting sands until there is nothing left, his struggle absorbed into the bone-dry uniformity of the landscape.
As the sun drew slowly below the horizon, its strength ebbed away. In desperate, defiant, rage it razed the skies, the firestorm a testament to its power, until the skies burned away and only a veil of ashes remained, reigning as darkness.
>>7636354 Enveloped by an ever colder breeze, we gradually lost sight of suburbia. Artificial lights on the high-rises begun taking center stage; the familiar dim cyan-yellow variety. The breeze became a wind and intolerably cold as we strolled towards the towering office buildings.
"Fuck me? Bitch" her pimp replied. "Bitch get one thing straight. I am yo' fucking provider. Ain't nothing you don't get without me. You work for me bitch. Around my fucking clock on my fucking time. Bitch you sleep but I'm always on, watching yo' ass"
Her thighs were raw and bloodied from the switch hits. She turned her face away. Soon would come the knockout punch.
The mighty yellow crawled slowly through the blue sheets, tinting its clouded fabric orange. It rests its body onto the horizon, sinking into the darkness, calling its beloved rock to chase after it, painting the rock's footsteps in a dark shade.
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