the light is no joke.
Rosey Unicorn wrote:Night has fallen.
The canvas panels in the tower above me are painted red with light.
The cathedral-like space becomes almost a joke—all I see is black, white and red. But I know it’s not. Cold is creeping in, the tower being moved higher on the map.
As I watch, the white seems to drop away. It falls to the ground like the snow of the North. Only the red is left, dancing on black, like the Northern Lights. There is still a tower rising up in the blackness, red light flowing over the surface, but in the North, the light is nothing to laugh at.
Red lights in the sky means war.
It is the blood of people slain, and now their spirits are warning of more to come. They dance, perhaps to prepare for the ranks of dead they know will arrive? Or, are these new spirits, telling their loved ones they have found a better place?
The question now becomes, will the war end?
Night has fallen. The canvas panels in the tower above me are painted red with light. The cathedral-like space becomes almost a joke—all I see is black, white and red. But I know it’s not. Cold is creeping in, the tower being moved higher on the map.
As I watch, the white seems to drop away. It falls to the ground like the snow of the North. Only the red is left, dancing on black, like the Northern Lights. There is still a tower rising up in the blackness, red light flowing over the surface, but in the North, the light is nothing to laugh at.
Red lights in the sky means war. It is the blood of people slain, and now their spirits are warning of more to come. They dance, perhaps to prepare for the ranks of dead they know will arrive? Or, are these new spirits, telling their loved ones they have found a better place?
The question now becomes, will the war end?
Cathedral-like? Really? No. Any writer should know better than that. Change it.
Night has fallen. The canvas panels in the tower above me are painted red with light. The cathedral-like space becomes almost a joke—all I see is black, white and red. But I know it’s not. Cold is creeping in, the tower being moved higher on the map.
As I watch, the white seems to drop away. It falls to the ground like the snow of the North. Only the red is left, dancing on black, like the Northern Lights. There is still a tower rising up in the blackness, red light flowing over the surface, but in the North, the light is nothing to laugh at.
Red lights in the sky means war. It is the blood of people slain, and now their spirits are warning of more to come.
They dance, perhaps to prepare for the ranks of dead they know will arrive? Or, are these new spirits, telling their loved ones they have found a better place?
The question now becomes, will the war end?
Night has fallen. The canvas panels in the tower above me are painted red with light. The cathedral-like space becomes almost a joke—all I see is black, white and red. But I know it’s not. Cold is creeping in, the tower being moved higher on the map.
As I watch, the white seems to drop away. It falls to the ground like the snow of the North. Only the red is left, dancing on black, like the Northern Lights. There is still a tower rising up in the blackness, red light flowing over the surface, but in the North, the light is nothing to laugh at.
Night falls. Red light paints the canvas panels in the tower above me. All I see is black, white and red. I can't see straight. Cold creeps in; the tower moves higher on the map.
As I watch, the white drops away. It falls to the ground like Northern snow while red dances on black -- the Northern Lights. The tower still rises up, red light flowing over black.