WORD PAINTING

Dawn Embers is hosting a Blogfest entitled Word Painting. I had trouble selecting which piece of descriptive writing I wanted to post. In the end I selected this section from USURY: Double Desired. This is my wip: it is a YA paranormal romance.

 This section is close to the opening, so Will knows even less about the story than you do. 

I can't wait to read the other descriptions, posted by everyone else who entered Dawn's blogfest. 

A thaw had melted hard frost to cold dew. The glittering drops ignited a terrible thirst which had been no more than one more silken strand, in the painful knot entangling him.

If he’d had water enough, Will would have sobbed with relief. Instead he summoned up the strength to crawl. He lowered his head to long blades of grass, and licked. The moisture evaporated, when it came into contact with his burning skin.

Moist, warm heat rose from the soil, drawn into the sky.

Will followed the vapour trails, until he squinted into the moonlight.

The violet-blue sky was shrouded in grey clouds that billowed, tumbled over, and into, themselves. The silver-lined clouds were edged, lit by shards of brilliance. 

Slivers of ice sliced through the air, pelting heavy and hard.

Will cried out, arching his back.

A crumbling, grey stone tower was illuminated in each flash. Before this, dim in the shadows, Will saw a split stemmed tree.

He stumbled. Stopped.

Moonlight broke through smothering cloud, illuminating the small, white flowers and the delicate leaves.

Dark then pale, the leaves writhed in the gusting breeze.

What shelter could there be under a tree?

Ferocious power split the sky. The growling menace rumbled around.

Will groaned. The air channelled up into the storm, streamed over his skin. The ice slashed down. The gusting wind whipped at him, buffeting his frail frame. 

Then, in the silence that preceded the whip and lash of light, Will’s hair began to rise. The hair on his arms could be raised in fear, but his hair was being drawn up from his head and shoulders. Power licked it higher.

Will couldn’t open his blinded eyes. Water streamed down his cheeks, as he stumbled towards the shelter of the tree. Will scrambled over rocks and roots. He stumbled. Fell.

Gasping for air, pushing at the lower branches, Will threw himself at the five stems that made up the tree's trunk. He grazed his face against the knotty bark.

He waited.

Beneath the candle-shaped canopy of leaves, Will could not feel the shredding power of the wind, heavy with debris. 

The storm swirled, a potent mix of menace and power. A fierce thunderclap, bellowed the storm's rage. Lightning struck at other trees nearby.

Will was safe.

             He watched until dawn broke as a golden rim of light and rays and the wind faded to a thin whistle through the trees. He rested his head in the dust and the crisp fragments of leaves below the tree. Will fought against his eyelids but, all too soon, he succumbed to sleep. 

             Then the whispering began. 

I hope you enjoyed reading my word painting.