| David Yip ( @ 2005-10-16 09:32:00 |
Plural
Alright, here goes. I'm not much of a writer, so this will most likely come off as rather trite and boring, but hey, we've all got to start somewhere. I might revise this as the day goes on.
Plural
Previous post: The Prize by MenTaLguY
This post is dedicated to the public domain.
Sybil's eyes widened as she crept closer to the box. It was as a vacuum, drawing her in; it took her a superhuman effort to break free of the stone's maw.
Sybil enthusiastically agreed. Her taste for natural beauty had been finely tuned by years of adventure and discoveries of new, exotic formations. Yet few things had captured her attention so quickly, so completely.
There was a short interlude as Victor's enthusiasm boiled down -- still quite excitable, but safely contained. Mr. Crouchfeld, having narrowly avoided a battle for air, composed himself and walked over to Victor's right side.
Sybil waited until the two men had cleared the flight of stairs. Then she went back to the desk, opened the drawer, and resumed her examination of the object that had occupied her attention. It was a small, slightly weighty box covered in velvet felt, a couple of inches in each dimension. It was left to her by her father, who, like her, frequently ventured out into the world in search of its minerological mysteries. He had left that morning on another exploration.
She opened the box. It was lined with an inky black felt, much like the small boxes in which small jewelry is stored. There was, however, no jewelry in this box. She stared at it, momentarily dumbfounded. What could cause it to weigh so much? It's just an empty box.
The afternoon light crossed the box, and Sybil now saw what was inside.
Rapidly condensing water drops lit a rough spherical surface; she was entranced with the prisms' dance in the void.
Memefic:
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Alright, here goes. I'm not much of a writer, so this will most likely come off as rather trite and boring, but hey, we've all got to start somewhere. I might revise this as the day goes on.
Plural
Previous post: The Prize by MenTaLguY
This post is dedicated to the public domain.
Sybil's eyes widened as she crept closer to the box. It was as a vacuum, drawing her in; it took her a superhuman effort to break free of the stone's maw.
Pure ...?,she said, in a cracked, fascinated voice.
...Chthonium,Victor replied. The quiet awe with which he had initially announced his discovery had been vanquished by the strong pride of a man presenting the spoils of war to his lady. Victor's eyes remained fixed upon the stone.
Beautiful, isn't it?
Sybil enthusiastically agreed. Her taste for natural beauty had been finely tuned by years of adventure and discoveries of new, exotic formations. Yet few things had captured her attention so quickly, so completely.
It's incredible,she said, turning to smile at Victor.
I suppose your journey was quite a success?
Indeed it was!exclaimed Victor, now ebuillent. He tore himself from the table to face Sybil.
I'm convinced that there must be more where I found this little stone. It would be foolish of us to not-- and here he pounded his fist in the air, almost hitting a surprised Mr. Crouchfeld in the stomach with his elbow --
explore further!
There was a short interlude as Victor's enthusiasm boiled down -- still quite excitable, but safely contained. Mr. Crouchfeld, having narrowly avoided a battle for air, composed himself and walked over to Victor's right side.
It's certainly an amazing find, Victor,Sybil said. She, too, was quickly being hooked.
An exquistely beautiful stone, with some rather peculiar properties. But I know you aren't one to grow this excited over mere surface features. What's on your mind?
I'll discuss that with you later, love,Victor said, drawing an expression of ire from Mr. Crouchfeld.
Someday, I might tell you, too,he stated as an off-hand remark.
For now, though, I need to secure this. Come with me, Crouchfeld!he said, as he headed for the stairs. Mr. Crouchfeld grunted and turned away to follow him.
Sybil waited until the two men had cleared the flight of stairs. Then she went back to the desk, opened the drawer, and resumed her examination of the object that had occupied her attention. It was a small, slightly weighty box covered in velvet felt, a couple of inches in each dimension. It was left to her by her father, who, like her, frequently ventured out into the world in search of its minerological mysteries. He had left that morning on another exploration.
She opened the box. It was lined with an inky black felt, much like the small boxes in which small jewelry is stored. There was, however, no jewelry in this box. She stared at it, momentarily dumbfounded. What could cause it to weigh so much? It's just an empty box.
The afternoon light crossed the box, and Sybil now saw what was inside.
Rapidly condensing water drops lit a rough spherical surface; she was entranced with the prisms' dance in the void.