This is a piece I write for introduction in instablurb. It is a great website for prompts and comments. Still neonate, little traffic, not much update, it is rough unpolished gem. Great place to expose writer to fellow writer and to avid reader. Reviewers? Not yet. It started in tumblr and now they brave themselves to become a fully functioning website. Semi-forum style. Check this out and check the website out.
INTRO
Most of them wrung their hands and with difficulty, twisted the handle of the door. The pressure of escaped air almost pushed them back out. Each one of them had been watching everyone entered one by one, impatience mixed with nerve stirred their legs. Some created irregular noises, some hypnotic albeit annoying rhythm. She never felt ready to jump into the line, since it almost always went on without sightings of its end.
INTRO
Most of them wrung their hands and with difficulty, twisted the handle of the door. The pressure of escaped air almost pushed them back out. Each one of them had been watching everyone entered one by one, impatience mixed with nerve stirred their legs. Some created irregular noises, some hypnotic albeit annoying rhythm. She never felt ready to jump into the line, since it almost always went on without sightings of its end.
But she had decided. She spent days being frightened until a familiar brown figure with fringed hair cut in behind her without complaint from everyone else. Her eyes dances between the other faces in line but with no rage reflected on their eyes, she blew a sigh and leaned to his arm.
Then the door was in front of her. Her hand trembled even after she rested it on the frozen handle. The door blew up thousand feet tall and hundred feet wide in front of her eyes. With ruckus on her back, many of them in the crowd urged her to hurry along or better just walked aside. All of a sudden, the warmth of morning sun touched her hand. She looked down at it and up at its owner. That familiar smile again. She blew another sigh, smiled, and opened it.
For a door that humongous, it was very light. The pressure of air created a vortex that carried her and him and landed them in the middle of semi circular hall. She held his hand and sat at the corner, not at the end row—too secluded, not at the front row—too exposed. Her vision told her that the hall was empty, but her heart told her otherwise. It was pumping out of her ribcage down to her hand. It trembled again.
Small fluttering noise entered her hearing. A thousand of glimmering pair of wings clouded the hall. With their transparent nature, she could still see the whole hall, but the wings outlined everyone that she couldn’t see before. Some have more of these wings, some have them scattered on the floor, some have them high and intertwined like a column grew up to the sky. Before she could turned and took a look at his, a booming voice filled the hall.
“Welcome to the stationary station. Everything you need to pursue your intent will be available to you. All we need from you is a small request.” There was a sudden pop that rippled away. “You are required to tell us about yourself.”
That pop brought thousands of lightweight strings down to each silhouette. Her hand trembled again. She heard him whispered, “don’t worry, I am here.” She reached into the end of a string and the words jumped out of her and him.
“Surya and Sol. We grew up with the guidance of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Our life has been spent in the backyard of nature. Had been loyally writing in a place we called home by the tumblr. Inspired by local folklore of an ancient country called Indonesia—”
A mutter cut her words and echoed next to her. It made her stumble to him for protection. The muttering grew clearer. “Tumblr. So you have that something they call journal?”
He patted her shoulders in encouragement. She answered, “b..blog. Yes.”
“So you announced your story to the world, for it to criticize, to mock, to judge, to steal, to—”
“To enjoy.” There was a bravery inside her. It began to seep out along with a struggling blob of indignation.
“Well then, share with us.” The voice taunted her.
She squeezed his hand and he traced a circle on hers with his thumb. She rasped, “Suryasol.”
“Suryasol? There’s barely any writing that we found. You think we will waste space here for unqualified—” the voice sneered.
He pushed her to sit up with his chest and he mingled his fingers with hers. She hissed and narrowed her eyes. “Tisfaehrtosay.weebly.com.”
“Such a ridic—” the voice paused, “unique. Such rarity on the subject. Speculative fiction, folklore, myths, and legend of a particular yet diverse civilization.”
“Anything else you want to say?” She raised her chin up. He chuckled and patted her back.
The voice responded, “not as now. If you wouldn’t mind though, we would like to archive the writing you hide behind your back too.”
She turned around and put her fringed bag on her lap to pull out the brown leather binder that she’s been holding all this time. She opened and caressed it. “I guess it is time to let your voice out, Sol.” The string once again grew to touch the bound parchments. It spread like a root, enveloping the parchments. In front of her the string expanded into a shape of the familiar figure who always been there for her.
For the first time, everyone else could also hear his voice. “Now it is time to let your voice out, darling.”
She smiled and put her hand back onto his.
Then the door was in front of her. Her hand trembled even after she rested it on the frozen handle. The door blew up thousand feet tall and hundred feet wide in front of her eyes. With ruckus on her back, many of them in the crowd urged her to hurry along or better just walked aside. All of a sudden, the warmth of morning sun touched her hand. She looked down at it and up at its owner. That familiar smile again. She blew another sigh, smiled, and opened it.
For a door that humongous, it was very light. The pressure of air created a vortex that carried her and him and landed them in the middle of semi circular hall. She held his hand and sat at the corner, not at the end row—too secluded, not at the front row—too exposed. Her vision told her that the hall was empty, but her heart told her otherwise. It was pumping out of her ribcage down to her hand. It trembled again.
Small fluttering noise entered her hearing. A thousand of glimmering pair of wings clouded the hall. With their transparent nature, she could still see the whole hall, but the wings outlined everyone that she couldn’t see before. Some have more of these wings, some have them scattered on the floor, some have them high and intertwined like a column grew up to the sky. Before she could turned and took a look at his, a booming voice filled the hall.
“Welcome to the stationary station. Everything you need to pursue your intent will be available to you. All we need from you is a small request.” There was a sudden pop that rippled away. “You are required to tell us about yourself.”
That pop brought thousands of lightweight strings down to each silhouette. Her hand trembled again. She heard him whispered, “don’t worry, I am here.” She reached into the end of a string and the words jumped out of her and him.
“Surya and Sol. We grew up with the guidance of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Our life has been spent in the backyard of nature. Had been loyally writing in a place we called home by the tumblr. Inspired by local folklore of an ancient country called Indonesia—”
A mutter cut her words and echoed next to her. It made her stumble to him for protection. The muttering grew clearer. “Tumblr. So you have that something they call journal?”
He patted her shoulders in encouragement. She answered, “b..blog. Yes.”
“So you announced your story to the world, for it to criticize, to mock, to judge, to steal, to—”
“To enjoy.” There was a bravery inside her. It began to seep out along with a struggling blob of indignation.
“Well then, share with us.” The voice taunted her.
She squeezed his hand and he traced a circle on hers with his thumb. She rasped, “Suryasol.”
“Suryasol? There’s barely any writing that we found. You think we will waste space here for unqualified—” the voice sneered.
He pushed her to sit up with his chest and he mingled his fingers with hers. She hissed and narrowed her eyes. “Tisfaehrtosay.weebly.com.”
“Such a ridic—” the voice paused, “unique. Such rarity on the subject. Speculative fiction, folklore, myths, and legend of a particular yet diverse civilization.”
“Anything else you want to say?” She raised her chin up. He chuckled and patted her back.
The voice responded, “not as now. If you wouldn’t mind though, we would like to archive the writing you hide behind your back too.”
She turned around and put her fringed bag on her lap to pull out the brown leather binder that she’s been holding all this time. She opened and caressed it. “I guess it is time to let your voice out, Sol.” The string once again grew to touch the bound parchments. It spread like a root, enveloping the parchments. In front of her the string expanded into a shape of the familiar figure who always been there for her.
For the first time, everyone else could also hear his voice. “Now it is time to let your voice out, darling.”
She smiled and put her hand back onto his.