A Taste

I've been working on a short story. In fact, I just completed it as of posting this. It's the very first short story I've written on my own, without any school-based requirements or expectations. 

It's a little weird, having a piece of writing I'm not going to submit for a letter grade. Honestly I'm thrilled but kinda at a loss... But I guess this is what an audience is for!

Now I'm not going to post the whole thing here, at least not quite yet. But it's probably some of my favorite writing I've ever done. And it still needs some editing on it before I'm ready to say it's absolutely and totally completed. Otherwise, it's done. I did it. A written piece by me, for me and for other people too I guess. 

So until I'm ready to slap it down in front of everybody I can, here's a taste.

"The souls of the mountains are restless. They surge sluggishly from the earth, pressing upward as determinedly as they root deeply beneath the crust. Their slowness is mistaken for motionlessness. In the endless expanse of time, they heave and roil like great waves of turf and rock, rising with the shifts in the land and eroding with the ruthless beating of the weather. In the swirls of snow and rumbles of thunder they murmur softly. Every footstep on their surface is like a pinhead pressed against the skin, a sharp pressure too flat to puncture, irritating and tingling. Trees sway in gales like hairs pulling at their follicles. The steady beat of rain sheers off thin layers from the mountain's body. The brutal heat of sun bakes the clay and plants once soft and damp. And people with their sharp metal tools chip away faster than any storm, carving them to their needs, never taking the living bodies of the land shuddering so slowly in pain, in rage. The souls of the mountains are restless."

Until next post on Thursday, folks!