Post by Squish|Flint on May 2, 2011 16:12:12 GMT -5
This is the description piece I did for Writer's Craft. Still not happy with the way it turned out. p.s. Cal's a bitch
Heat seeped from the earth’s pores like honey. The thick miasma of humidity smothered the efforts of anyone trying to be productive during the afternoon heat wave. The sun was at its highest peak, presiding over the earth in a flamboyant display of haughty, golden pride. The air over the concrete shimmered and writhed in ecstasy of its own existence, embracing the people who moved through it as if they were lovers.
A gentle breeze cascaded through the smog-infested city streets, before dancing away from the clutching fingers of pollution, tickling the green-gold leaves of lush trees in the small park of a neighbouring suburban town. Even in the spotty shade, the sweltering heat weighed everything down with a heavy, languid pressure. The dark green grass wilted, patches of once healthy turf slowly turning yellow. The park itself was dotted with massive umbrellas, parents taking refuge from the sun’s rays under their vinyl shelters as they ate and socialized while their children frolicked in the field. Small hills dotted the expanse of open space, playing base to the fair-sized maple trees that provided patches of shade and hours of entertainment for children as nimble as monkeys.
Under one such tree a small gathering of young kids murmured softly amongst themselves, their little eyes fixated on the being who rested beneath the haven of interlocking branches. The shapely curves and soft looking body lent themselves to the idea that this creature was very much female. She was wrapped in smooth, supple skin the colour of ripe honey. Snug jean shorts hugged her wide hips, her long, long legs stretched out and lax behind her, their ends unadorned by shoes or sandals of any kind. The thin, white shirt she wore had no back, fluttering material clinging sensuously to her body by strategic ties, exposing all the warm gold of her satin skin. Her tawny hair tumbled over her sun-kissed shoulders, a sharply waving mane.
Her eyes closed, she looked for all the world as if she were sleeping. Eyelashes made of gold dust rested gently on an angular face, high cheekbones giving her a decidedly regal appearance. Her full lips were a dusty pink, like roses caught in a desert storm. The children stared, and rightly so. The incarnation of exotic beauty lay strewn before them as if stricken down by the blistering warmth that enveloped them all. Their fingers twitched, tickled by the electric urge to go up and touch her, to ascertain her impossible existence. However they remained away, limiting themselves to the passive role of observing the foreign femme. For while all the little details seemed to make her beautiful, one blatant element made her untouchable.
Wings.
The female draped on her stomach before them lay beneath a canopy of massive, fluffy wings. Light grey coloured her whispering feathers, and they looked to be made of ash, as if one touch would crumble their structure, and leave nothing but soot on grasping fingertips. The appendages were large and imposing despite their downy appearance. Their presence kept the children at bay, awed and reverent. The angel lay oblivious to them, holding her wings away from her back, which gleamed with the faint sheen of silver sweat. Though none of the little humans had even spoken to her, they all knew her name.
She was Calypso, the one all their parents warn them of. The one who drew them all in just by simply... being. A magnet that attracted curiosity and seemed to repel rumours and negativity. She never looked ruffled or upset. Never rushed or startled. She moved not above the human laws, but apart from them. To the children, Calypso was enticing, alien, intriguing, mysterious. Something to look upon with interest and adoration.
To the rest of society, Calypso was a threat.
She was different- other. She didn’t break the law, but she didn’t actively uphold it either. She went through life according to her whims, and if they corresponded with what the humans wanted, it was only by chance. They couldn’t control the angel, so they feared her instead, as was humanity’s specialty. To dread what they didn’t understand. But the femme didn’t mind. To Calypso, they were all the same.
Delicate, golden lids slid back, exposing her irises to the youth and sunshine on display before her. Her eyes were a cold, hard iron. Such a stark contrast to the lovely warmness of her striking body, some of the children gasped as they fell silent. The steely orbs were a cruel colour in comparison to her tinted skin, a piercing anchor for her divine form. They observed the children with a silence more suffocating than the heat. Being in Calypso’s presence was like being in a graveyard. Alone, yet surrounded. A thousand screams that came back as nothing but whispers and white noise.
The angel in the guise of a woman did not move to comfort the children, or reassure them in any way. Instead her eyes drooped closed again, lounging like a big golden cat without a care in the world. Which she didn’t, as Calypso was the Angel of Apathy, a lazing Immortal who drifted from place to place, looking for things to catch her languishing interest. She remained untouched by the petty squabbles of the forever bickering humans, unmolested by their strong opinions of Life and the Living.
“Come away from there.” Parents diverted from their frivolous banter called out to their children, far-off voices of niggling concern and disapproval. The initial worry caused a spark in the searing summer air, and the adult soon began recollecting the wayward younglings. The heat was so overwhelming, however, that the brief flicker of frenzy was smothered by the blanketing atmosphere and oppressive weight of the sun’s favour. Everyone was soon herded and cajoled out of the open air and into the cool, regulated spaces of inside their houses, where they could be safely monitored doing approved activities.
Soon, the field was left abandoned, the angel left to her own devices, the echoes of laughter lingering on the barest of breezes. The femme was alone once more, baking beneath her chosen maple. Or... maybe not as alone as she thought.
A tiny, almost hesitant sniffle wetly broke the silence, a reluctant interruption. Calypso’s steel grey eyes fluttered open once more, locking onto the small form of the one who intruded on her nap. A small boy had remained sitting at her side, closer than the others had been, but never making a move to touch her. Red-brown skin and dusty clothes told a story of endless hours out in the sun, his shorts ragged and his knees covered in bandages. Large, clear brown eyes reflected the innocence of childhood, but with a knowing respect that slowly began to pick at the angel’s intrigue.
Calypso herself remained unmoving, still laying like a melting gold statue of perfection, but her wings shifted, sweeping so gently the wind it created moved like sigh across the child’s face. Velveteen feathers dislodged themselves from the others, drifting around the pair as softly as snow. The child upturned his face, wide smile revealing a row of milky teeth, fingers reaching to catch the downy precipitation. The angel smiled, and this hot, sweltering day seemed to melt them together, making the lines between mortal and divine a little hazy.
Heat seeped from the earth’s pores like honey. The thick miasma of humidity smothered the efforts of anyone trying to be productive during the afternoon heat wave. The sun was at its highest peak, presiding over the earth in a flamboyant display of haughty, golden pride. The air over the concrete shimmered and writhed in ecstasy of its own existence, embracing the people who moved through it as if they were lovers.
A gentle breeze cascaded through the smog-infested city streets, before dancing away from the clutching fingers of pollution, tickling the green-gold leaves of lush trees in the small park of a neighbouring suburban town. Even in the spotty shade, the sweltering heat weighed everything down with a heavy, languid pressure. The dark green grass wilted, patches of once healthy turf slowly turning yellow. The park itself was dotted with massive umbrellas, parents taking refuge from the sun’s rays under their vinyl shelters as they ate and socialized while their children frolicked in the field. Small hills dotted the expanse of open space, playing base to the fair-sized maple trees that provided patches of shade and hours of entertainment for children as nimble as monkeys.
Under one such tree a small gathering of young kids murmured softly amongst themselves, their little eyes fixated on the being who rested beneath the haven of interlocking branches. The shapely curves and soft looking body lent themselves to the idea that this creature was very much female. She was wrapped in smooth, supple skin the colour of ripe honey. Snug jean shorts hugged her wide hips, her long, long legs stretched out and lax behind her, their ends unadorned by shoes or sandals of any kind. The thin, white shirt she wore had no back, fluttering material clinging sensuously to her body by strategic ties, exposing all the warm gold of her satin skin. Her tawny hair tumbled over her sun-kissed shoulders, a sharply waving mane.
Her eyes closed, she looked for all the world as if she were sleeping. Eyelashes made of gold dust rested gently on an angular face, high cheekbones giving her a decidedly regal appearance. Her full lips were a dusty pink, like roses caught in a desert storm. The children stared, and rightly so. The incarnation of exotic beauty lay strewn before them as if stricken down by the blistering warmth that enveloped them all. Their fingers twitched, tickled by the electric urge to go up and touch her, to ascertain her impossible existence. However they remained away, limiting themselves to the passive role of observing the foreign femme. For while all the little details seemed to make her beautiful, one blatant element made her untouchable.
Wings.
The female draped on her stomach before them lay beneath a canopy of massive, fluffy wings. Light grey coloured her whispering feathers, and they looked to be made of ash, as if one touch would crumble their structure, and leave nothing but soot on grasping fingertips. The appendages were large and imposing despite their downy appearance. Their presence kept the children at bay, awed and reverent. The angel lay oblivious to them, holding her wings away from her back, which gleamed with the faint sheen of silver sweat. Though none of the little humans had even spoken to her, they all knew her name.
She was Calypso, the one all their parents warn them of. The one who drew them all in just by simply... being. A magnet that attracted curiosity and seemed to repel rumours and negativity. She never looked ruffled or upset. Never rushed or startled. She moved not above the human laws, but apart from them. To the children, Calypso was enticing, alien, intriguing, mysterious. Something to look upon with interest and adoration.
To the rest of society, Calypso was a threat.
She was different- other. She didn’t break the law, but she didn’t actively uphold it either. She went through life according to her whims, and if they corresponded with what the humans wanted, it was only by chance. They couldn’t control the angel, so they feared her instead, as was humanity’s specialty. To dread what they didn’t understand. But the femme didn’t mind. To Calypso, they were all the same.
Delicate, golden lids slid back, exposing her irises to the youth and sunshine on display before her. Her eyes were a cold, hard iron. Such a stark contrast to the lovely warmness of her striking body, some of the children gasped as they fell silent. The steely orbs were a cruel colour in comparison to her tinted skin, a piercing anchor for her divine form. They observed the children with a silence more suffocating than the heat. Being in Calypso’s presence was like being in a graveyard. Alone, yet surrounded. A thousand screams that came back as nothing but whispers and white noise.
The angel in the guise of a woman did not move to comfort the children, or reassure them in any way. Instead her eyes drooped closed again, lounging like a big golden cat without a care in the world. Which she didn’t, as Calypso was the Angel of Apathy, a lazing Immortal who drifted from place to place, looking for things to catch her languishing interest. She remained untouched by the petty squabbles of the forever bickering humans, unmolested by their strong opinions of Life and the Living.
“Come away from there.” Parents diverted from their frivolous banter called out to their children, far-off voices of niggling concern and disapproval. The initial worry caused a spark in the searing summer air, and the adult soon began recollecting the wayward younglings. The heat was so overwhelming, however, that the brief flicker of frenzy was smothered by the blanketing atmosphere and oppressive weight of the sun’s favour. Everyone was soon herded and cajoled out of the open air and into the cool, regulated spaces of inside their houses, where they could be safely monitored doing approved activities.
Soon, the field was left abandoned, the angel left to her own devices, the echoes of laughter lingering on the barest of breezes. The femme was alone once more, baking beneath her chosen maple. Or... maybe not as alone as she thought.
A tiny, almost hesitant sniffle wetly broke the silence, a reluctant interruption. Calypso’s steel grey eyes fluttered open once more, locking onto the small form of the one who intruded on her nap. A small boy had remained sitting at her side, closer than the others had been, but never making a move to touch her. Red-brown skin and dusty clothes told a story of endless hours out in the sun, his shorts ragged and his knees covered in bandages. Large, clear brown eyes reflected the innocence of childhood, but with a knowing respect that slowly began to pick at the angel’s intrigue.
Calypso herself remained unmoving, still laying like a melting gold statue of perfection, but her wings shifted, sweeping so gently the wind it created moved like sigh across the child’s face. Velveteen feathers dislodged themselves from the others, drifting around the pair as softly as snow. The child upturned his face, wide smile revealing a row of milky teeth, fingers reaching to catch the downy precipitation. The angel smiled, and this hot, sweltering day seemed to melt them together, making the lines between mortal and divine a little hazy.
