The wild brush of the jungle resisted her straining arms as she trudged deeper into the unknown. It was not so much the push-back of any singular plant that fatigued her, but rather the entirety of the thick branches and leaves that impeded the makeshift path and swallowed all; even sound could not escape its humming din and help but be stifled by its hot, sticky air. She may as well have been a sacrificial offering to some great beast of legend. The way she hollowly struggled onward, hopeless, resolved in her fate. The beast--the forest--was magnanimous, slow as the shift of time, yet irrefutably alive. And she was only partly so. Elise felt so broken.
At times, she would become painfully aware of her raspy breaths, shaky and brittle from tears. Her whimpers would otherwise have been frighteningly audible, but it didn't matter; she could rile the monster and be consumed for all she cared. Elise willed herself onward unafraid of her compulsion into danger. She did not seek direction. She did not seek safety. She was fleeing. Fleeing to anywhere or anything that would allow her to leave the hell unknowingly far behind now. Her mind drifted as her legs stumbled further into the hungry gullet of the forest.
Elise craned her neck to look up at her father, blinking through the heavy clumps of snow that floated to the ground as if some great goose had flown out of its down coat and left it to scatter to pieces.
*Okay, moving onward. I'm at a loss for what emotions I want to craft from this next scene (but actually "how?" is the larger question) to contrast the death of her father and connect the flower to her childhood. Maybe I'll link this to a hallucination for her reconciling growing up? Maybe that's too cliche. I'll come back to this.
-Joseph
At times, she would become painfully aware of her raspy breaths, shaky and brittle from tears. Her whimpers would otherwise have been frighteningly audible, but it didn't matter; she could rile the monster and be consumed for all she cared. Elise willed herself onward unafraid of her compulsion into danger. She did not seek direction. She did not seek safety. She was fleeing. Fleeing to anywhere or anything that would allow her to leave the hell unknowingly far behind now. Her mind drifted as her legs stumbled further into the hungry gullet of the forest.
Elise craned her neck to look up at her father, blinking through the heavy clumps of snow that floated to the ground as if some great goose had flown out of its down coat and left it to scatter to pieces.
*Okay, moving onward. I'm at a loss for what emotions I want to craft from this next scene (but actually "how?" is the larger question) to contrast the death of her father and connect the flower to her childhood. Maybe I'll link this to a hallucination for her reconciling growing up? Maybe that's too cliche. I'll come back to this.
-Joseph
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