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writetomyheart2016-02-02 09:51 pm
alchemicink.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2016-02-02 09:51 pm
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[Team Sonic] Tunnel
I've been itching to get back to writing original stuff, so here's a messy bit from a weird short story about pretzels. Written really quickly so it doesn't make much sense yet.
Starting words from Perfect Melody
Drawing ever nearer was the light at the end of the tunnel. It began as a speck, a tiny white pinprick of light, and as he started to walk forward it grew bigger. But the tunnel was long, seemingly infinite. He didn’t know how long he’d been traveling. Had it been minutes or years? Time swirled together like water rushing down a drain. Down, down, down to some unknown destination for some unknown purpose.
Sometimes his feet felt like heavy weights and he’d just sit down for a rest. Most of the time, he’d turn his back on the light. He’d turn and face the darkness, that black mass so cloying that he could never tell if his eyes were open or closed.
It didn’t matter.
There was a reason he was in this tunnel, but he couldn’t remember it anymore. Something about a long line and his lack of patience. But the darkness made his memories fuzzy, like he’d thrown protective covers over everything and was too lazy to pull them off again.
But now he was almost at the light. It had grown bigger gradually. From the pinprick, it had swollen to the size of his fist, then a melon, then a fish bowl, and so on. The light didn’t change in anything other than size. It still was a bright shade of light. Unwavering.
He stopped at the edge of the tunnel, unable to see what was on the other side of the light. Briefly, he remembered something about pretzels. Very important pretzels, but he was too tired to try to dig up the details from the depths of his brain. He would just have to take his chances with whatever was on the other side of the light. Holding a deep breath even though he didn’t know why, he stepped through.
He discovered that the light at the end of the tunnel came from a room full of funhouse mirrors. Each one reflecting in all different directions, creating a dizzying display to admire. He caught sight of his face in one of the mirrors. Twisted and stretched.
And suddenly he remembered why the pretzels were important
Starting words from Perfect Melody
Drawing ever nearer was the light at the end of the tunnel. It began as a speck, a tiny white pinprick of light, and as he started to walk forward it grew bigger. But the tunnel was long, seemingly infinite. He didn’t know how long he’d been traveling. Had it been minutes or years? Time swirled together like water rushing down a drain. Down, down, down to some unknown destination for some unknown purpose.
Sometimes his feet felt like heavy weights and he’d just sit down for a rest. Most of the time, he’d turn his back on the light. He’d turn and face the darkness, that black mass so cloying that he could never tell if his eyes were open or closed.
It didn’t matter.
There was a reason he was in this tunnel, but he couldn’t remember it anymore. Something about a long line and his lack of patience. But the darkness made his memories fuzzy, like he’d thrown protective covers over everything and was too lazy to pull them off again.
But now he was almost at the light. It had grown bigger gradually. From the pinprick, it had swollen to the size of his fist, then a melon, then a fish bowl, and so on. The light didn’t change in anything other than size. It still was a bright shade of light. Unwavering.
He stopped at the edge of the tunnel, unable to see what was on the other side of the light. Briefly, he remembered something about pretzels. Very important pretzels, but he was too tired to try to dig up the details from the depths of his brain. He would just have to take his chances with whatever was on the other side of the light. Holding a deep breath even though he didn’t know why, he stepped through.
He discovered that the light at the end of the tunnel came from a room full of funhouse mirrors. Each one reflecting in all different directions, creating a dizzying display to admire. He caught sight of his face in one of the mirrors. Twisted and stretched.
And suddenly he remembered why the pretzels were important