The glassy green fa?ade of the glimmering, shimmering, iridescent river stared back at the sky like an eye looking through a scratched and faded mirror. A spiralled ribbon of weak, unsupported light filtered and penetrated through the leafy, thick, willowy emerald and olive shades of the sinisterly beckoning dense canopy of trees that nestled breathy shadows in the crooks of the trunks; the light bounced off the shadows to the ripples of the water which twinkled as it met the illumination. The sylph like leaves whispered amongst themselves. The surface, although serene and swathed in tranquillity, hosted something more ominous, something that threatened the even balance of the dignified scene. Jagged rocks littered the ground, flat and eased smooth by the constant current of the pure green flow. An eerie feeling noiselessly echoed by the soft, even, flickering glistens of the light catching the dust and at once, letting it go, contrasted with the harsh snatches of the silhouette swiftly shifting across the waters. A shadow was present, but no more was to be known. Bedecked in mystery, hidden beyond the misleading surface, suddenly was heard a sound. A slippery, shrieking, a quiet and a loud, a shrill and a baritone sound. A sound which concentrated on the feeling of the place. A sound which gathered it together, which represented it in one level, which presented it to the one whom knew nothing with a flourish. As of yet.
A glossy cascade splintered the water?s even surface as he turned the bend, avoiding the grabbing and signalling branches that drew at his clothes and wrenched at his hair, and came face to face with
THUNDER!
The river?s covering grew distorted, misshapen and disturbed, as if an irate, infuriated humpbacked giant with was below the surface, and was making certain that the whole world knew of his anxieties. The air, thick and moist, persuaded small beads of sweat to explode on his brow, it was depressing and yet uplifting, pure and yet choking. A snatch of fresh air was breathed his way, pushed out from the gurgling gush of water that was forced to flow in a never ending pattern of white, lacy spray and green tinged water. Ancient boulders, lining the pool, were stained with emerald sequences, tiny creatures clinging to the raspy, textured surface. Palm leaves were bountiful, overshadowing, yet not blocking out completely the sun, with their glossy olive fingers reaching out towards the dripping rocks, spattered with the spray and moistened with the atmosphere. Debris, although small, was noticeable, washed up on the tiny shore. Tresses of plants and fragments of pebbles, wriggling individual creatures announced their presence to the naked eye.
A roar of the surging, gushing waterfall convinced him that the secret had been discovered? yet to no one else would it be known.
And also this.... sorry for the long paragraphs...
The sky was a striking azure blue, with cotton puffs of breathy wool tossed carelessly here, and there, with the tips of the leafy trees spiking the clear expanse that roofed the landscape. The grass, dotted with clumps of gemmed florals clustered together, whilst lush vegetation poked up from the undergrowth, grew tall and proud, with mighty ambitions to rise as tall as the fragrant evergreen majestically stooping like a regal king before its subjects, adorned in a great emerald cloak, speckled with russet hued precious stones, and extending branched arms festooned with fashionable green draperies, and as a sign as obeisance, bowing at the feet , were a medley of brightly- coloured japaconicas, accompanied with a sprinkling of bristle-short shrubs. . Interjected between these such royalties humbly bowed delicate blossoms, flowering out from beneath gnarled limbs, a-begging for mercy, but still, their gaoler superciliously held itself proudly above trinkets of gentian blue and cerise gems, unconscious to their pleads. The sound of trickling water led her to a meek brook spurting over serrated stones, scattered sloppily, and sitting amongst small rags of weedy jade blankets, undisturbed in quiet, dark corners, where thick, cobalt waters collected, oblivious to their hasty surroundings, inaudibly and unobservantly, yet persistently lapping away at the marbled pebbles, distributed at the periphery, and apparently unperturbed at this constantly and invariably displayed interminable array of demanded attention. Composed and cerulean the water did seem, but below was reserved grainy, dense mire assembled from years passed and spent in the process of accumulating this mass of sticky, clammy matter, not to be agitated except for those unknowing. To be compared to a sleeping dragon, the water undisturbed would show no signs of any hidden firedrake, but once disarranged?
SPLASH!
A cloud of dishevelled filth rose up gracefully as the long, unmerciful beak of heron plunged into the cool water, surrounding the dusty rocks with small globules of fluid. The droplets desperately tried to grasp the raspy rock more firmly, but to no avail; they slid down with pitifully importunate bewilder, the rock unheeding of the beseeching protests, not to be beguiled and enticed into saving those negligible sensations running over it like so many times before. A chaotic myriad of intricate patterns was laced by them, so alive did they seem, to be weaving, and entwining, and interlacing series already performing by ancestors of that sort.
With an abundant breath of the sweet, early morning air, she stood, almost disregarding the insistent breeze which stipulated consideration. Yet she did not give it gladly, only tugging her embroidered snood closer around her unruffled silken hair, and drawing her heavy cloak more protectively around the lithe body. She sighed, as the bird called in a pure tone of joy, in a long, sweet chirp, chirruping, opposing her disposition, already inclined towards the doldrums. One might ask why such a person, bedressed in such opulence and luxury, would carp and find fault with such scenery, or which troubles would dare to impose on such a mind, used to the lavish comforts of her everyday life. Yet a crease found its way to cut the smooth forehead into folds that told of misery, the amethyst eyes to crease with anxiety, or the mouth to twist into a picture of agonized query. Whereas it was the fists balled up into spheres of steel, or the rumples in the satin- lined gown that showed signs of apprehension and disquiet, there was something indescribable gliding and tracing everything in its path, something in the atmosphere that bought an uneasy aura to the otherwise tranquil and serene dawn.
Her eye was drawn to a sudden motion; a thunderbolt of sound, so abrupt and swift was it, that she took a triplet of steps back, almost tripping over a rock, so inconveniently, yet inconspicuously placed in one?s path. The mouth creased into a smile, the eyes into relief. The resounding reverberation was something that could never have been depicted beforehand as anything to be known, something also that nobody, nothing, could have tried to portray. One couldn?t put a finger on the sound, yet it resembled something in ones nightmares?? in ones dreads?? in ones failures?? something that one wouldn?t want to know... but what she thought to be her greatest gift.
(I had to adapt this a little because i entered it in the NAGTY writing competition so the greatest gist part doesn't really fit in with the rest of it lol)
Oct 27, 2007 @ 07:52:11
I'm rubbish at taking negative comments, but you don't seem to understand that it was meant to be completely a piece of description, using as many adjectives and writing techniques as possible. And I, also, have read many books 
