Excerpt from a longer piece
The floorboards creaked loud enough to wake the dead as the man paced around the room. Tools of torture lined the walls, the dim lighting of the setting sun beyond the walls was the only thing that lit up the hellish place. It amazed him that, even through the rain, sunlight could still pass. Beside him, a long and strange-looking device, maybe the devil’s newest project. A fly perched itself on the windowsill. The boy stared at it for a moment, wanting to tell it to escape while it still could.
Some things stood out in the room - splatters on the ground and workbench, staining the materials a sickly shade of red. Although curious at first, he decided he would rather not find out what the splatter really was. A couple of the ‘tools’, hung from the wall.
The boy shuddered - the howling wind swept the room, freezing him to death- and blew onto his hands. He was severely underdressed for a wet, rainy day. The cursed wind had also swept a cloud of dust straight into his face. Surprised, he took in a huge whiff. A mistake. The musty smell of dust and sawdust filled his lungs. Was this a sick form of torture the executioner had in mind? Was his punishment: to suffocate on the dust until he perished. What a way to go.
Jed Crawford 9DSM - A Favourite Place
Light from the setting sun touches the tops of faraway mountains. Outlines of chairlifts wind their way up Coronet Peak like a snake. A rock cairn stands tall beside me, decorated with colourful, intricate stones and bland slabs of schist.
The otherwise blank mountain is coated with spare grass, tussocks, and alpine flowers. The wind storms up the valley, wiping my face with its frozen fangs. Prickles that remain stuck in my hands from the scramble up the mountain sting, stinking deeper after every movement.
Tastes linger in my mouth as scents of hot chocolate waft toward me. The wind whistles through open valleys around me. My puffer jacket rustles like tin foil at every slight movement. This is my favourite spot.
Samuel La Hood 9DSM - A Favourite Place
The warm midday breeze blows gently across the shimmering lake, hitting my face, leaving me with a warm sensation. My eyes are focused on the rugged hills in the distance and the way the snow's cloak emits its bright light.
Something catches the corner of my eye and I glance to witness a lone tree standing tall in the empty lake. Its long branches are sprinkled in glowing green leaves. The chirp of birds singing and playing fills the air.
I look down to see my reflection on the glass lake. It is as clear as a mirror. I begin to walk closer to the lake, my feet sinking in the harsh stones. I take a deep breath and take one last look at the peaceful moment in front of me.