Username: SurgeFire
Name: Shadeburr
Gender: Male
Age: 35 Moons
Rank: Warrior
Clan: AsterClanPrompt:I often find that i tend to cut straight to dialogue and miss out on describing/setting the scene; often forgetting that the imagery i have in my own head is not the same as the reader's. in the end, i find that i have too much dialogue in the story to keep it going; not enough description. I've complained mentioned it before, so why not do something about it..?
essentially: no dialogue! and an emphasis on imagery
the beauty of the night struck him so.
something about it caught his attention; was it the dazzling of the stars, glimmering and fading? was it the splash of color in the galaxy - the swirls, the blues?
he wouldn't know himself, really - it was hard to just pinpoint it to one - but all he knew is that he couldn't keep his eyes away.
tussled in the breeze, the grass around him seemed to bounce around in what he could only describe as an inanimate excitement; even if they were only objects, they seemed as lively as any cat.
as he slowly stepped forward - minding the grass underneath his feet, noting how quickly they could spring up after his pressing; even if beaten, they returned, did they not? - his mind seemed as scattered as the stars above, he mused.
it was his duty, of course.
it didn't mean that there was no shiver in his spine; no apprehension to his demeanor.
his once burning yellow gaze had died down.
to the end of the field was a lake - no, the lake - alive with the reflections of stars, almost seeming as if the sky had fallen into their land. it was only stirred by the breeze, rippling along...
it was only a few fox-lengths away, and yet something about it tugged at him; like shade shouldn't have come.
he felt like he being dragged down by an invisible force; if fear could manifest, it was clawing at him, battering his being, shaking him to the core.
forcing himself to call out to the unknown, he waited.
//
and there was a tale a molly would tell, basking in the sunlight, warmth surrounding the clearing. the trees held still, without the sign of wind; a summer awaited the rest of the cats, excited to be away from the fall.
her kits would fidget beside her - eyes wide in excitement; she would laugh, of course, and continue to speak.
she would paint a tale of a brave molly, sharing her own fiery fur; her voice was like honey, her demeanor saccharine as the words she spoke. she carried no ounce of corruption in her soul, it seemed.
she would fall for her polar opposite. a large, brooding, whispy tom; whose shadow of intimidation seemed to fall on everyone else but her.
it was a terrible situation, really.
a fight gone too wrong; and, too late, she was too beaten down from the fight to swim.
the surviving sister shut her eyes, and finished her tale of the waiting shadow.
//
he lifted his eyes up to the illuminated lake, without saying a word.
for the umpteenth day in a row, no response to his cry; almost giving up, he stopped--
a light filled his vision, and he closed his eyes quickly; the grass alongside him, increasingly tossed by the wind, lit up with the reflection of the pale glow.
she was a beauty, even more in this time; orange, flame-esque fur; dotted with stars, and a similarly warm gaze that could melt the coldest of souls...
she drifted on the water; with every ripple she rode, striding along the surface. her marvelously long fur bounced along with her steps; not entirely petite, but not terribly large.
the breeze grew stronger as he attempted to step himself; in a trance, almost, forgetting to swim.
the wind stopped, and the light died; and the ice in his heart grew with the chill that he encountered with his legs in the icy water.
the sky seemed dimmer, and the grass not as energetic; and the field that stretched on for what seemed like forever felt like an aimless venture instead of inciting freedom.
and that was the tale of mirage, and the shadow she left behind.
