(I apologize if this is in the wrong place; I figured this was kinda' "the creative forum". If there is a more appropriate location for it, please let me know.)
Life and Death and the Girl with the Scarf
Rainy night gave way to moist morning, overpowered by the sun's sympathy for humanity, though the benevolent celestial body couldn't do much for the cold. A green-skinned man with vines for hair and azure sunglasses wandered out of an alley and in to the street, just in time to meet the last lingering light leaking lazily from a lamp-post, one which would soon bid the world good morning by submitting to an honorable extinguishment. Water dripped from his leafy hands and hair, his white shirt and black tie thoroughly saturated, thin lips epitomizing frownless features, and a look of finality hanging on the peculiar creature's face, though it wasn't quite a smile. He had found her.
The girl had been running. Machine-gun breaths seemed to get tangled about her tongue and lips as they frantically made their way in and out of her, blue eyes like narrow columns of light beaming beneath wet strands of hair colored like wrought-iron. Her whole body pulsated rhythmically, frosty clouds accumulating and dissipating in front of her in the morning air. Her red and white-striped scarf appeared to be floating; a perpetual icy breeze was trying to steal it from her, but one of her cold hands only pulled it closer, while the other gripped a very silver knife, the quivering blade held low, but in the green man's direction nonetheless.
He raised a verdant hand, which in turn raised a pistol.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, seeming genuine. "It is your time."
The girl made no particularly drastic motion, though subtle glances were sent sprawling across the horizon and everywhere else, looking for something, anything. Her eyes widened gently and settled on a crack in the sidewalk. With a fluid grace that she had not expected of herself, she reached down and plucked a soft scarlet flower that had bravely been growing amongst the concrete, memories of the morning rain sent in all directions as she hastily pulled the viridian stem to her. This gave the thieving wind the opportunity to relieve her of her helpless scarf, and neither of them watched as it was carried away.
The green man lowered his eyebrows as the girl held her shivering blade to the flower's stem, right below the petals. Her breaths became longer, her gaze never leaving his.
"I'll do it," she growled, drawing the knife nearer to the innocent blossom, threatening to drag the edge across its long emerald neck.
For at least a moment, the world stood still. The green man gently lowered his leafy hand, taking with it the argent armament, and there were another few seconds of hesitation before the girl took a deep, sharp breath and then dashed off down the alley. She was already just a shadow in the his mind.
(I apologize if this is in the wrong place; I figured this was kinda' "the creative forum". If there is a more appropriate location for it, please let me know.)
Life and Death and the Girl with the Scarf
Rainy night gave way to moist morning, overpowered by the sun's sympathy for humanity, though the benevolent celestial body couldn't do much for the cold. A green-skinned man with vines for hair and azure sunglasses wandered out of an alley and in to the street, just in time to meet the last lingering light leaking lazily from a lamp-post, one which would soon bid the world good morning by submitting to an honorable extinguishment. Water dripped from his leafy hands and hair, his white shirt and black tie thoroughly saturated, thin lips epitomizing frownless features, and a look of finality hanging on the peculiar creature's face, though it wasn't quite a smile. He had found her.
The girl had been running. Machine-gun breaths seemed to get tangled about her tongue and lips as they frantically made their way in and out of her, blue eyes like narrow columns of light beaming beneath wet strands of hair colored like wrought-iron. Her whole body pulsated rhythmically, frosty clouds accumulating and dissipating in front of her in the morning air. Her red and white-striped scarf appeared to be floating; a perpetual icy breeze was trying to steal it from her, but one of her cold hands only pulled it closer, while the other gripped a very silver knife, the quivering blade held low, but in the green man's direction nonetheless.
He raised a verdant hand, which in turn raised a pistol.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, seeming genuine. "It is your time."
The girl made no particularly drastic motion, though subtle glances were sent sprawling across the horizon and everywhere else, looking for something, anything. Her eyes widened gently and settled on a crack in the sidewalk. With a fluid grace that she had not expected of herself, she reached down and plucked a soft scarlet flower that had bravely been growing amongst the concrete, memories of the morning rain sent in all directions as she hastily pulled the viridian stem to her. This gave the thieving wind the opportunity to relieve her of her helpless scarf, and neither of them watched as it was carried away.
The green man lowered his eyebrows as the girl held her shivering blade to the flower's stem, right below the petals. Her breaths became longer, her gaze never leaving his.
"I'll do it," she growled, drawing the knife nearer to the innocent blossom, threatening to drag the edge across its long emerald neck.
For at least a moment, the world stood still. The green man gently lowered his leafy hand, taking with it the argent armament, and there were another few seconds of hesitation before the girl took a deep, sharp breath and then dashed off down the alley. She was already just a shadow in the his mind.
"I suppose... it wasn't time just yet."