The echoes fade, and all the world is still.
The blood of dragons smoulders in the dust.
Like a stray star, a single angel’s quill
floats slowly down, gliding from gust to gust.
A thunderous sunset finally hides its glow
behind a cracked horizon. All is black.
A dry leaf rustles. Quiet chitters grow
And furtively, the noise of night comes back.
A faint flame flares. A lantern springs to life.
Dew glistens on cold hands and empty eyes.
Light plays on shields and faces raw with strife;
What names and goals they had, this field denies.
The light is snuffed. The quiet footsteps fade.
From this destruction, nothing shall be made.
I’m in more or less the same situation as this time last week: I wrote my entire quota on Tuesday (1900 words already, this time), and now I’m putting up a rather late midweek update.
That makes this the third week in a row I’ve written more than 1500 words, so I think some extension of my goals is in order. I could make it a goal to post updates on time, but reporting on the lateness of my posts in my late posts seems a bit redundant.
Instead, I’ve decided my new goal will be to reflect, in each ROW80 update, on the writing I’ve done in the preceding half-week. The story I’m working on was always supposed to be a learning experience, and I’ve been told more than once that you need to go over what you’ve learned if you want it to sink in.
So, without further ado, here’s my reflection for this week: