Welcome to Gaia! ::

Allow me to preface this by stating that this is merely an excerpt, and is not intended to be a complete work in any conceivable understanding of the word. No, I do not identify here who the speaker is, or answer many other questions which may arise. The purpose of my uploading this is merely to gather a consensus upon the legibility and general effectiveness of my writing, not anything about plot, characterization, etc. Please be quite critical.




The start of a new chapter. Is there such a thing? Or does everything meld into a single, symbiotic whole, unable to discern itself from the spiral of life – unable to start anew, trapped within the concatenated chains of previous events? I cannot leave my previous life without there having been one, nor can I leave for a reason if I do not have one. Must one entirely disregard the past in order to defy it? But yet, here the same dilemma is broached- the past must have been disregarded for a reason. For without reason, what maintains the sanity of the world?

Evening bestows a murky illumination upon all, the pied light of pinks and oranges a discrete entity, dripping from the leaves of the trees to splatter on the ground beneath. From the dense foliage beyond the path emits a low hum, punctuated, almost emphasized, by chirps and snaps. A rising tide, its sonority doubles, trebles, the manifold voices each raging in their own way against the dying of the light.

Here, at the border of human and wild, a battle is waged. Viscous sun-rays wash against the embankment of the forest, its dense levies of leaves a match for the multichrome invaders, whose incursions, however frequent and unrelenting, are never able to penetrate too deeply within the enemy’s territory. A counterattack of bestial sound, loquacious and unrelenting, drives the human’s advocate and vanguard from the line of battle. As it purples with sour defeat, the light retreats, leaving a symphony of victory to mock its inadequacy, but with time, this too slips into the lethe of silence and void.

The quiet patter of metal supersedes the silence as I draw from my carry-sack an assortment of pieces each moulded and hammered for a respective, specific purpose. [the chapter continues, but this is all that I shall share.]

I love the imagery, it's unique, imaginative, and like Hidden Arc said very deep. You use connotation of words well and I like how you use the sound of each word to help convey feeling. I'd read this book.