Abandoned (Work in Progress) - Annie's English Story II [Any tips, please comment below]
Frost clung to the trees of the Caledonian Forest. Louder than the rustling of the woodland creatures, the interruption fo the roiling clouds bashing together broke the silence of the serene, picturesque scene. Reverberating throughout the forest, the wind whistled through any cracks it's groping, freezing fingers, could find. The taste of fear hung around the atmosphere like a cloud, stifling any signs of life in it's impenetrable folds. Fresh, crisp snow adorned every available area. Except for the tree. It would have been taller than the other trees, despite the factor that the bark was twisted and crippled a third of the way up the tree. It was almost as if if it were alive, it would have been hamstrung. But why this tree wasn't festooned with snow was a mystery. If a tree could look enigmatic, this towering piece of nature would win first prize. Yet deeper into this seemingly endless copse of trees was a clearing. A pond dominated this break of trees, the ice in swirling patterns, as though this had bee sculpted by a fine artist. And here lay Adrian.
The sky was black. As black as the night. He made the connection; it was night. Adrian slowly came to. His distorted view of the world must have been an aftereffect of his unconsciousness, he thought. He sluggishly registered the cold. He protested, and endeavoured to battle against the numbing feeling that was seeping into his bones. He clawed weakly in a direction that appeared to be random, seeking comfort, nevertheless, the still, peaceful scenery had none to offer. Adrian succumbed to the pain, not wanting to continue suffering, when a thought came unbidden to his mind: "Everyone has pain, but not everyone chooses to suffer" This thought struck a chord in him, and jolted him out of his pain. With renewed energy, he started moving. Thrashing about, and flailing his arms, Adrian froze as his arm struck a hard, smooth surface and he heard breaking and cracking. Similar to this sound of a delicate champagne flute dropped on a marble floor. Ice, his pain-ridden head whispered to him. Not daring to dawdle, Adrian hurled himself at the break, determined to bring himself away from this agony. How he yearned for a blistering inferno to set his body temperature to rights. "When I die, I wish to be cremated". With this mantra burning like a brand in his head, Adrian used to remaining drops of his strength to pull himself up through the ice and clamber up the bank of his pond. He collapsed, unable to move any further, breathing heavily, attempting to get as much oxygen into his lungs as possible, considering that he had been deprived of the pure air. Exhausted and drained, Adrian fell fast asleep, not aware of the snow beating relentlessly down on him, not aware of the receding footprints that were being covered by the falling flakes, which vanished his only trace of survival, of hope.
Weak sunlight filtered onto Adrian, thawing the frozen drops of water on his face infinitesimally. There was no visible pulse in his exposed neck. Any onlooker would think he was dead. Already, there were crows gathered on the fringe of the clearing, unsure of whether or not they could descend upon their feast, the mere flitter of an eyelid scattered the ferocious scavengers like ninepins. Adrian had lived through the night. Such a feat would not be considered possible for a human being; the temperature had dropped below zero. With tattered remains of what was once a vest, it appeared that Adrian wouldn't stand a chance.
The sleep had refreshed Adrian slightly. He tried to open his eyes, but such a simple motion was beyond his efforts, it was as though his eyes were like sandpaper. Peeling away his eyelids from his skin, he stared. The sky was an iridescent blue, streaked with cerulean, and the silver green forest brought wonder to any eyes. It was simply breathtaking. The birdsong resumed as the threat was dismissed. A four-part harmony filled the air. Each voice was strong, pure and perfect, and the birds were perched where their voices were echoed at the correct speed and timing, when suddenly, they struck an unearthly chord, and a mist instantaneously erupted from what seemed like nowhere. Adrian leapt to his feet, galvanised by adrenaline, sure he would find his bearings before the mist took full effect. He then spun around hoping to glimpse a tree he could take shelter under. To his horror, there was nothing he could see but a thick white fog, blanketing all that was in sight. The trees, the pond where he had awoken, blotting out the sky and the helpless sun. It stealthily crept up behind Adrian, as silent as an assassin, drawing closer, five yards away, four, now three. Adrian was enveloped by the mist. He held his hand, barely a few inches from his face, but all he could see was a vague silhouette, that looked nothing remotely like a hand. Adrian blindly turned here and there, anticipating a gap in the must, and immediately regretted it. He had lost any sense of direction. He blundered off in a direction, arms outstretched, unsure of where he was going, but in spite of that, seeking protection of a corrie, to shield him...
What is a corrie? How did I know what to look for? Do I have family? Friends? A past life? This questions ran in an unpredictable pattern through Adrian's head, backwards, forwards, sideways, and Adrian was no longer sure of what he ought to be thinking. He had come to a dead stop, no longer troubled by the minor issues including the mist. His whole system slowed, his senses dulled, and all his concentration was riveted on his train of thought. After a long while of thinking, Adrian finally came to the conclusion that he couldn't remember much about himself before he woke up almost dying in that pond. Let's start basic, he told himself. What is my name? Your name is Adrian, his mind promptly replied. How old am I? A blank was his only response. He looked down at his body, and regardless of the mist, was able to see himself. A well-muscled figure rose to greet his eyes. I must be about fifteen, he thought. His eyes flicking to the right as many others do to think of something to invent, Adrian was jostled out of his daze, his feelings quickening to speed up to time. His head snapped around and struck painfully against the trunk of a tree. Now, that hurt. He gripped the bark tightly to ease the throbbing in his head. So tightly that his knuckles turned white. Digging his fingers into the bark brought a shriek from the tree. And the only tree capable of such actions was the hamstrung tree. Imprisoned in a tree, the spirit was biding it's time, it's thoughts consumed with revenge for the one who, one thousand years ago, placed the spirit, lively and cheerful, in the dark confines of the tree, to rot forever. After such a long time, the spirit cold only find pleasure in thinking of ways, of which it deemed glorious, to wreak revenge. The cruel thoughts of the once kindred spirit twisted and crippled the three. Some time later, the tree that before stood proud and towering over the other trees, was reduced to a pleading wreck, grovelling for sympathy from the other trees. The core was poisoned, slowly to start with, then rapidly building up speed, as the spirit took control of the brain of the tree, planning what the tree was to do, like a parasitic wasp, until Adrian came along...
To be continued...
The sky was black. As black as the night. He made the connection; it was night. Adrian slowly came to. His distorted view of the world must have been an aftereffect of his unconsciousness, he thought. He sluggishly registered the cold. He protested, and endeavoured to battle against the numbing feeling that was seeping into his bones. He clawed weakly in a direction that appeared to be random, seeking comfort, nevertheless, the still, peaceful scenery had none to offer. Adrian succumbed to the pain, not wanting to continue suffering, when a thought came unbidden to his mind: "Everyone has pain, but not everyone chooses to suffer" This thought struck a chord in him, and jolted him out of his pain. With renewed energy, he started moving. Thrashing about, and flailing his arms, Adrian froze as his arm struck a hard, smooth surface and he heard breaking and cracking. Similar to this sound of a delicate champagne flute dropped on a marble floor. Ice, his pain-ridden head whispered to him. Not daring to dawdle, Adrian hurled himself at the break, determined to bring himself away from this agony. How he yearned for a blistering inferno to set his body temperature to rights. "When I die, I wish to be cremated". With this mantra burning like a brand in his head, Adrian used to remaining drops of his strength to pull himself up through the ice and clamber up the bank of his pond. He collapsed, unable to move any further, breathing heavily, attempting to get as much oxygen into his lungs as possible, considering that he had been deprived of the pure air. Exhausted and drained, Adrian fell fast asleep, not aware of the snow beating relentlessly down on him, not aware of the receding footprints that were being covered by the falling flakes, which vanished his only trace of survival, of hope.
Weak sunlight filtered onto Adrian, thawing the frozen drops of water on his face infinitesimally. There was no visible pulse in his exposed neck. Any onlooker would think he was dead. Already, there were crows gathered on the fringe of the clearing, unsure of whether or not they could descend upon their feast, the mere flitter of an eyelid scattered the ferocious scavengers like ninepins. Adrian had lived through the night. Such a feat would not be considered possible for a human being; the temperature had dropped below zero. With tattered remains of what was once a vest, it appeared that Adrian wouldn't stand a chance.
The sleep had refreshed Adrian slightly. He tried to open his eyes, but such a simple motion was beyond his efforts, it was as though his eyes were like sandpaper. Peeling away his eyelids from his skin, he stared. The sky was an iridescent blue, streaked with cerulean, and the silver green forest brought wonder to any eyes. It was simply breathtaking. The birdsong resumed as the threat was dismissed. A four-part harmony filled the air. Each voice was strong, pure and perfect, and the birds were perched where their voices were echoed at the correct speed and timing, when suddenly, they struck an unearthly chord, and a mist instantaneously erupted from what seemed like nowhere. Adrian leapt to his feet, galvanised by adrenaline, sure he would find his bearings before the mist took full effect. He then spun around hoping to glimpse a tree he could take shelter under. To his horror, there was nothing he could see but a thick white fog, blanketing all that was in sight. The trees, the pond where he had awoken, blotting out the sky and the helpless sun. It stealthily crept up behind Adrian, as silent as an assassin, drawing closer, five yards away, four, now three. Adrian was enveloped by the mist. He held his hand, barely a few inches from his face, but all he could see was a vague silhouette, that looked nothing remotely like a hand. Adrian blindly turned here and there, anticipating a gap in the must, and immediately regretted it. He had lost any sense of direction. He blundered off in a direction, arms outstretched, unsure of where he was going, but in spite of that, seeking protection of a corrie, to shield him...
What is a corrie? How did I know what to look for? Do I have family? Friends? A past life? This questions ran in an unpredictable pattern through Adrian's head, backwards, forwards, sideways, and Adrian was no longer sure of what he ought to be thinking. He had come to a dead stop, no longer troubled by the minor issues including the mist. His whole system slowed, his senses dulled, and all his concentration was riveted on his train of thought. After a long while of thinking, Adrian finally came to the conclusion that he couldn't remember much about himself before he woke up almost dying in that pond. Let's start basic, he told himself. What is my name? Your name is Adrian, his mind promptly replied. How old am I? A blank was his only response. He looked down at his body, and regardless of the mist, was able to see himself. A well-muscled figure rose to greet his eyes. I must be about fifteen, he thought. His eyes flicking to the right as many others do to think of something to invent, Adrian was jostled out of his daze, his feelings quickening to speed up to time. His head snapped around and struck painfully against the trunk of a tree. Now, that hurt. He gripped the bark tightly to ease the throbbing in his head. So tightly that his knuckles turned white. Digging his fingers into the bark brought a shriek from the tree. And the only tree capable of such actions was the hamstrung tree. Imprisoned in a tree, the spirit was biding it's time, it's thoughts consumed with revenge for the one who, one thousand years ago, placed the spirit, lively and cheerful, in the dark confines of the tree, to rot forever. After such a long time, the spirit cold only find pleasure in thinking of ways, of which it deemed glorious, to wreak revenge. The cruel thoughts of the once kindred spirit twisted and crippled the three. Some time later, the tree that before stood proud and towering over the other trees, was reduced to a pleading wreck, grovelling for sympathy from the other trees. The core was poisoned, slowly to start with, then rapidly building up speed, as the spirit took control of the brain of the tree, planning what the tree was to do, like a parasitic wasp, until Adrian came along...
To be continued...
too many words lah, I dont really like reading.
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