Applying to a Literary Arts program -high school. Please review, and comments/suggestions are appreciated!! Thanks!
DUSK
Dusk. It is a time of uncertainty, remorse, and languidness. It is the only state she knows, for she is confined in a lachrymal land.
Walking across the barren, desolate landscape, the beldam pulls at her scraggly strands of hair. Lost in her memories, she sees that day in vivid clarity. There would no longer be peace or security: the innocence of her youth was wiped out by tragedy.
A cool breeze meanders under the wizened folds of her neck, and rustles the leaves of a nearby shrub. She turns with sudden intuition and unearths a bulbous seed, flush with promise and reassurance.
The crone picks it up with her gnarled fingers, and moves on, not daring to linger. She wearily wanders across the land's vast span; its endless emptiness stretches from end to end. Time slips away as the sun is obscured; but no matter how long she searches, her ailment is without cure.
Eventually, she chances upon a trickle of water. Thirsty, she drinks and imbeds the seed near the water's source. Making a note of its location, she sets forth once more across the land she abhors.
By and by, she makes her way back, inexplicably drawn. Now the seed has burgeoned: its green, tender leaves like gossamers of chiffon. This pithy prevalence of life bores a minute sense of hope, and there she remained, transfixed.
After a bucolic epoch, a cluster of pulsing lights emerges from the shadows. As the hag gazes in wonder, the fireflies' glowing halos illumined her sorrows. The fog of darkness surrounding her mind dissipates imperceptibly, but even that little gives her a reprieve. Beguiled by the light to sojourn, she is lulled by the drip-drop of water into a deep slumber.
The lass blinks twice, as if waking from a trance, but with a newfound hope in her gaze. Surrounded by the cadence of a bubbling creek and a rising melodic sonance, she had undergone a striking metamorphosis. A soul transformed; she will not be captive anymore.
DUSK
Dusk. It is a time of uncertainty, remorse, and languidness. It is the only state she knows, for she is confined in a lachrymal land.
Walking across the barren, desolate landscape, the beldam pulls at her scraggly strands of hair. Lost in her memories, she sees that day in vivid clarity. There would no longer be peace or security: the innocence of her youth was wiped out by tragedy.
A cool breeze meanders under the wizened folds of her neck, and rustles the leaves of a nearby shrub. She turns with sudden intuition and unearths a bulbous seed, flush with promise and reassurance.
The crone picks it up with her gnarled fingers, and moves on, not daring to linger. She wearily wanders across the land's vast span; its endless emptiness stretches from end to end. Time slips away as the sun is obscured; but no matter how long she searches, her ailment is without cure.
Eventually, she chances upon a trickle of water. Thirsty, she drinks and imbeds the seed near the water's source. Making a note of its location, she sets forth once more across the land she abhors.
By and by, she makes her way back, inexplicably drawn. Now the seed has burgeoned: its green, tender leaves like gossamers of chiffon. This pithy prevalence of life bores a minute sense of hope, and there she remained, transfixed.
After a bucolic epoch, a cluster of pulsing lights emerges from the shadows. As the hag gazes in wonder, the fireflies' glowing halos illumined her sorrows. The fog of darkness surrounding her mind dissipates imperceptibly, but even that little gives her a reprieve. Beguiled by the light to sojourn, she is lulled by the drip-drop of water into a deep slumber.
The lass blinks twice, as if waking from a trance, but with a newfound hope in her gaze. Surrounded by the cadence of a bubbling creek and a rising melodic sonance, she had undergone a striking metamorphosis. A soul transformed; she will not be captive anymore.