feath (feath) wrote,

back in 2005, i'd put some stories up on fictionpress.com.
I got a review in this morning (forgotten all about fiction press!) and went to take a look at what stories I'd posted there.
I really am a drama queen lol
But in my defence, I was up against some damn good writters (musemuggers!) and had word limits (the stories were usually from musemugger prompts). To get a full story out of 69 or 200 words, your words had to do tripple duty. It makes it sound rather dramatic.
"they call me fool", 150 words, brought a tear to my eye.
I'd totally forgotten this one:


In the beginning, a darkness dwelt; a fetid darkness that filled the universe like a coiled serpent, alert and guarded. In the determined dawn of self awareness, there was naught but I and the serpent and the fountain of life. The serpent dwelled on the edge of the fountain stream as did I, for there was naught else.

The stream was swift and sweet, a pulse of light that wove through the universe, gifting enchantment to me and a virtuous nectar spirit.

But unto the serpent was only gifted rage of the light, hatred of the clean, perfumed honey of life. Such was He that he vowed to kill the fountain, and all it contained and sustained.

Within the noontide of time, he fell upon Me, frothing with hostility and venom. We made battle in the buoyant ribbon, might versus might, rage versus right. But in the given time, We did weary, and our struggles slowed; thickening of our will weakening Us.

And so, the thread of darkness separated from the thread of light, and We each retired to our separate sides of the stream, and paused.

In the eventide of time, I strove to finish him, and let there be only light. I did attack Him as He slept, coiled in His fetid thoughts, I rent his will, shattering it against My might.

Yet he swiftly recovered, and twisted His will around me, a constrictor, He squeezed with all the venom in his viper's heart, and did break Me, whereon, I retreated into the fountains clasp. Then, in his passion, did the Darkness shatter the fountain, disgorging its contents into the void, splattering the droplets of life.

In the beginning, a darkness dwelt; a fetid darkness coiled as a serpent, alert and guarded, around the billions of worlds that seethed with life, bright and pure.

I was better than I thought I was. Not necessarily Aurora, but just over all. Re-reading those stories I'd posted on fiction press made me realize. I was a damn good story teller.
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