Dark centurion

A cool breeze sucked and blew the tall, leafy green trees. The clouds above the dense canopy moved in time with it. The creatures of the forest, the poisonous bugs, the obtuse, intellectually dull Mammalia; It seemed to move everything. In time with it's beckoning silence, the warm attraction that was so undefinable. The creatures of the forest were pulled ever closer to the heart, the beautiful alluring heart, of this calming wind. Until, eventually, they found it. The heart. It was dark, as if the very light was collapsing into the very image they were perceiving. The image was blurry. Like someone had taken a paint brush, dabbed some water, and blended the colours of a beautiful painting. As if the head were continuous with the arms, and the neck extended down through the torso. It was an impossibility in a world in which the animals had barely experienced. Yet there they stood. Watching. The creatures image convulsed, streams of its mass dissipated into the air. For a full minute the animals stood, without fear, intently watching, waiting. Then something happened. Something strange and evil. The animals bodies began to contort. Their necks violent jerked, and snapped. Their legs folded inwards, below the joints, cracking, snapping. Then they began moving their way towards the creature. It continued violently shaking, as the creatures made their way towards it. With every step there was an unnatural noise, of bones breaking, wrenching from their sockets . Their bodies were bent and bloody. The bones of their fragile interior, stuck out at peculiar angles, piercing their thin useless skin. Then one by one, they were enveloped. By the darkness. They were sucked into the image. And as each one was absorbed, like a disgusting ball of flesh, the darkness grew. It's image became more visible, stable. And with this, the impossibility was strengthened, growing into a force of immense power. It took the form of a beast. A dark wolf, five times the size it would naturally be. Then a large, ape like animal. As the last of the creature were absorbed, the image became clearer. Finally, A yellow eye opened. It was restored. With this the forest shook. Like a pulse of air was travelling. As it spread further out, trees were ripped from the ground. Plants were obliterated. The sky became black. Dark, dangerous clouds materialized, plunging the day into blackness. And the creature closed its eye, disappearing into the darkness.

Is this a good beginning to a short story? rate me /10 or /5 or /100 :)

You write very vividly, and there is a welcome originality in your style. One can actually picture the events and sense the wrongness of what is happening.

Just one point - it is a little over-written. That sequence regarding 'The heart' for example - some melodramatic repetition which achieves nothing; a case of you trying too hard to inject some tension.

If this is the beginning of a short story, once it is finished you will probably find you can sacrifice certain preliminary descriptions. Generally it makes more sense to write the whole piece then take out what is no longer necessary (those bits that you may have needed to help you create it in the first place but which are now superfluous).

In my experience, writing an opening then standing back and trying to see how it is shaping doesn't work. Get it all on paper, put it to one side for a couple of weeks, then come back to it with a red editor's pen. You will surprise yourself how ruthless you can be.

Good luck, H

Scared Devil

Blood dribbled down the walls of a charred, windowless room. In one corner stood a three legged stall; only one was left attached, yet it still stood there. Another corner was white and gleaming. As the blood ran down, thick, coagulated, it sidled away from the spot. Like water from a oily substance, following its graceful polar attraction. But the blood just glooped, sliding unnaturally to avoid it. The floor was different altogether. lines, animated and sharp, which wavered at sight, cut up blue tiles into segments. It pulsed like a speaker, from the middle out. And in the middle, there was nothing. Darkness. A hole of impossible dimensions, which seemed infinite from any angle. It seemed to writhe in the space it was contained, rising up and down, causing the floor to pulsate violently. Each time it rose up too far, the tiles broke apart, and a stream of black cut through the fluorescent light. The room was full of an energy. Not just heat, or movement; sight or smell. It was broken, emitting an obscure feeling. Everything about the room, the strange stall in the corner, the cleanly spot in the wall, which directed the thick blood flow away. It was wrong. You couldn't see the origin of the blood. You couldn't look up.

In-fact this room wasn't a room at all. It was a glitch, caught up within infinity itself. The unnatural features, the unlimited space, the unobservable roof. Time poured down the walls, random objects were stuck, caught in a small fishing net of being. The reason you couldn't look up, is because time runs down, forward. This glitch was disrupting the dimensional flow of being. And it was growing and... 'Faaaather!' Groaned the child, perched on the leg of an old , wizened man. 'Must you always slip science into your stories, I was actually beginning to like that one'