Spirit | TeenInk

Spirit

January 5, 2014
By TopHatCactus BRONZE, League City, Texas
TopHatCactus BRONZE, League City, Texas
4 articles 1 photo 23 comments

Favorite Quote:
When writing a novel a writer should create living people; people not characters. A character is a caricature.
Ernest Hemingway


There is a clearing in a never ending forest of dark and fog collecting trees, the tallest tree stands in the center over the woods. It's twenty to thirty times bigger and older, putting red woods to shame. Its trunk is a dark brown and its leaves a vibrant green. In the massive oak there's humans who inhabit a wooded tree house among the thick branches, sharing the space with the birds. The planks of the shack are made from the smaller trees below, which are a lighter brown easier to cut into than the timeless giant. Fresh saw marks appear, bit deeply into the wood slabs when cut not too long ago. Not that the house was build in a sloppy manner, but there was obvious errors, especially when the house had to be built hastily.
Every night things prowl and lurk in the forest, monsters of nightmares. Only visible in the clearing, once in the maze of trees they seem to melt with the shadows and only make little whispers in the wind.
Being a human in the house, I'm not allowed to go out when it darkens. But it seems that my companions disobeyed that rule and went out for food, leaving me to 'guard the fort'. There's a hole cut in one of the walls, long and thin, made for overlooking the creatures below. I stand bow and arrow in hand looking at the distant slow moving objects.
I usually target practice on them and collect the arrows in the morning after their bodies disintegrate from the sun. They leave no trace that they were here, only my arrows that are sometimes mutilated from their armor or trampled to pieces is the result. Meat from the monsters has never been collected and never really fit our appetite or our weak stomachs. The hunting party goes out in the mornings and treks eight miles to a lake that harbors enough rabbit and deer for a week. After a adequate amount is taken, without endangering the species into extinction, the lightest member climbs up a tree. If there are bird nests on the way they take as much eggs as they can carry, but not before poking their head from the canopy and finding the colossal tree in the clearing. Then they make a direct path back, but game has been scarce and more hunting parties had to go out this week than in a month. Coming back empty handed twice and only a deer and half a rabbit left, Bruce suggested to try at night for our group of five. Being the youngest, I had little to no say in the decision, it was final.
I notch a red feathered arrow and aim at a centipede the size of two men laying down, there's a spot of thin skin in between large armored scales on its back and its head. I calculate the wind and trajectory before firing, even though I'm hundreds of feet up I've created a knack for hitting my mark. I release the arrow and soon it becomes hard to keep track of, but when the centipede jerks and skirts angrily to the closest creature I know I bounced a arrow off one of its inch thick shields. It rears up and slices at a greasy blob in the shape of a egg in accusation, the greenish glob turns to the large insect and launches itself at it. The centipede is completely consumed in the jelly substance, the rows of legs flutter and kick furiously inside the blob as acid eats at it in a leisurely pace.
I notch another arrow and aim for the small brain in the top left of the green egg, it jiggles as the creature crawls to the tree line. Letting the arrow fly, the shaft pierces cleanly through the beast and buries itself into the ground several feet past the monster. The thing collapses and the centipede inside stops twitching.
I sigh and twist back to look at the living room of our house, wooden chairs are propped around a grand unused wooden table. At the far right of the room there's a hatch leading to a small part of the floor under for weapon storage, which is now almost empty. The hatch in the left leads to the bed room cluttered with leaf stuffed mattresses. The first floor, the floor closest to the ground is the kitchen, filled with simple fireplace made up of a stone box to keep from setting the house on fire. Elementary utensils of wooden spoons and forks, and the carefully carved bowl made from sharp rocks, sit in cabinets and some are messily scattered on the dining room table.
Turning to the window I gasp, a bright orange thing floats from the forest and makes its way to the other side. It's significantly bigger than the other creatures, as big as a bus. Long hanging strands like a ripped robe connect to the spirit in what looks similar to multiple spiraling tails, the head is circular and the wispy tendrils follow immediately behind it, no body.
They're not going to believe me if I told them I saw a spirit, not in a million years. What happens when I kill a spirit? Will it leave something behind for my evidence or wither away like the others?
I quickly place the arrow on the string and shoot, it takes a couple seconds but then the peaceful orange spirit turns a ruby red and the strands flicker and snap out in fury. Its head finds me, darker swirls and lines outlining its face. The spirit flings out all of its wispy tentacles and flies at me in a snake slither.
I drop the bow and stumble back, a intense fear clawing up my throat. The gaps in between the wood boards begin to glow a shade of red, getting darker and darker. Until the whole room is bathed in the blood red, the spirit is just above the roof. Shadows against the chairs and under the table sway as the spirit moves from side to side like a professional boxer.
I scramble to the farthest wall as the roof is suddenly ripped off and a burning light of red bolts in. I jump to the side and fumble with the hatch, the creature whirs its massive head around the room. Once the door opens I fling myself down the next floor, forgetting the ladder. Landing in a confined room, I scoot to the wall and inspect for a weapon, but the place is deserted except for a box with a few bow strings behind the ladder. I glance up the ten feet I fell, the hatch bangs up against the living room wall and comes back down, slamming shut.
My commotion sends new red waves to coarse through the spirits being, the house shutters and brighter red filters through. A smell fills the chamber, suffocating and dense. The red is so intense that it takes a while to realize that flames lick the sides of the walls and the boards of the hatch are a silhouette of a roaring inferno set to the chairs and living tree.
When the red gets almost a blinding white that I know for sure that the spirit is behind the entrance. A cold beat of sweat rolls along my cheek, and if someone could see me now they could mistake it as tear.


The author's comments:
Dreams are weird and this is one of mine.

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JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 11 comments.


DannyX BRONZE said...
on Mar. 10 2014 at 11:50 am
DannyX BRONZE, Lynch Station, Virginia
3 articles 0 photos 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
Apparently there is nothing that can not happen today,

Very interesting. As the others have said, you have good word choice. You do, however, need to work on your editing. There are a lot of typos in this peice. Try printing it out and getting a friend or teacher to read it and point out the typos to you.

MegaSock GOLD said...
on Feb. 20 2014 at 9:48 pm
MegaSock GOLD, Beverly, New Jersey
13 articles 1 photo 33 comments

Favorite Quote:
Endeavor. There is nothing greater, and nothing more dangerous, nothing safer, and nothing lesser than taking a step out the door, to endeavor.

I like this! A hunting-survival life can go in many different directions, especially since it's a dream. This almost reminds me of Minecraft, camping out in a base through the night, but there's more to this than survival. I like how you conveyed danger, how you could watch it, handle it, and do something about it, but the twist of a different danger fighting back is what makes me intrigued about the story. It makes me wonder what would have happened next. Great job!

on Feb. 9 2014 at 8:10 pm
Bay_Renee SILVER, Brinkhaven, Ohio
7 articles 2 photos 39 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Kites rise the highest when going against the wind."
-Winston Churchill

   I liked this a lot! Like everyone else has said it's- really descriptive and worded beautifully. This seems like it could be expanded into a really intriguing longer story or book, but I sort of like the way it left the reader hanging onto the last sentence. Five stars!=]

on Feb. 9 2014 at 2:25 pm
Icithra PLATINUM, Arlington, Massachusetts
26 articles 0 photos 46 comments

Favorite Quote:
The wastebasket is a writer's best friend. ~Isaac Bashevis Singer

This is great writing, especially your description. It seemed to stop short though, as if the story wasn't quite over. Is that when you woke up from the dream?Keep writing, because your really talented.

on Feb. 3 2014 at 7:11 pm
TopHatCactus BRONZE, League City, Texas
4 articles 1 photo 23 comments

Favorite Quote:
When writing a novel a writer should create living people; people not characters. A character is a caricature.
Ernest Hemingway

 @Alycia. It rings a bell but I haven't seem it, maybe just a commercial or some advertisment. Is it good?

Alycia. BRONZE said...
on Feb. 3 2014 at 11:19 am
Alycia. BRONZE, Lower Gwynedd, Pennsylvania
4 articles 8 photos 41 comments

Favorite Quote:
“Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.” -- David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

Great story! Lots of imagery and description! Keep on writing! By the way, the accompanying picture and the story reminded me of the tv show "arrow". Have you heard of it?

on Feb. 2 2014 at 7:12 pm
Myvoice4change SILVER, Other, Other
9 articles 3 photos 167 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Everything will be ok in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end."

You are good at descriptive writing, and I like how you make it exciting and suspenseful!

on Jan. 28 2014 at 8:39 am
vegetariangirl, Hamilton, Ohio
0 articles 0 photos 92 comments

Favorite Quote:
Being normal is boring - Marilyn Monroe
You only live once -?
A professional writer is an amateur who didn't quit -Richard Bach

The story is excellent! I think you are great with descriptive words and have an excellent vocabulary! Keep it up!

on Jan. 26 2014 at 3:56 pm
theblondechick GOLD, Kingsport, Tennessee
14 articles 0 photos 105 comments

Favorite Quote:
I want to live and feel all the shades, tones, and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life.
And I am horribly limited.
-Sylvia Path

I love your use of words! It really put me in your story/dream. It was so vivid!

HudaZav SILVER said...
on Jan. 19 2014 at 11:49 am
HudaZav SILVER, Toronto, Other
8 articles 6 photos 392 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Nothing is impossible; the word itself says 'I'm possible'!" -Audrey Hepburn

You have a way of beautifully closing a piece of writing. I like the descriptions, and I hope u post up more work soon =)

on Jan. 17 2014 at 6:00 pm
Carly_Elizabeth PLATINUM, Othello, Washington
39 articles 0 photos 131 comments

Favorite Quote:
"And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it."
Roald Dahl

Haha I write a lot of my dreams down too haha. But wow I like this a lot. It's very original and you should definitely continue this into a book. Your descriptions are great. They really paint a picture in my head. The only thing I would say is try "show not tell". Try explaining things or actions without blatantly coming out and saying what's happening. Its something I tell everyone to do because it is really something everyone needs to work on cause it's just a constant learning thing. Plus it's fun haha. Anywhose, I like this a lot. Keep it up! :D