In my ‘How to Write a Character Description’ post, I offered an opening to a story that integrated character description fluidly. Here is the rest of the tale …
Gently, wisps of Emily’s raven hair fell across her dainty cheeks. Raising her almond eyes to the sky she sighed. Her lithe body wrapped up in the smouldering, red blanket contrasted with her pale skin. Tightly, she pulled the blanket further around her shoulders, covering the inky bruise on her left collarbone. Even snuggling as tight as she possibly could inside the blanket didn’t warm the chill of the events of the previous evening.
She could still hear the shrill calls of the nightling, feel the glacial breath of the totem’s fire burning a lacy trail across her skin. Gazing out across the silent moors she wondered if Graham would be up yet. The necromancer’s sleeping potion was strong, however, he’d been asleep for the best part of the day. The sun was beginning to retreat in an angry, orange glow, reluctant to give into the night and what came with it. Emily hauled herself to her feet; come what may – she had to make it to town before nightfall.
Graham’s hut wasn’t too deep into the moors. It was the first building you came into contact with past the west gate of Holton, bridging the Eastlands with the river Isaac. It was solitary, standing like an ancient mariner, determined to weather to the end of time alone. But Graham wasn’t alone.
Lethargically, Emily traipsed the five miles south towards the river. In the distance, she could see the lights of Holton bobbing on the horizon. She knew that most people, when faced with the familiar glimmer of home, felt their insides leap with joy. All Emily could feel was a gnawing sensation in her gut; what was even left of home?
Graham’s hut soon came into view. A solid, shining, tin roof shielded over a small, bricked up hiding. The structure had two windows facing west towards Holton and two facing east across the moors. Emily often wondered which window Graham preferred to face; the lull of the city or the draw of the wild.
There wasn’t a single light flickering from the darkness of the hut. The sun gave its last few shivers as it sank towards the earth. Asleep or awake; she had to get inside before nightfall.
Hastily, Emily rushed to the grassy threshold and pulled a small wooden totem from her pocket. It was coated in a slippery purple substance that had begun to glow with the curtains of nightfall. Emily hung the totem on the guard nail to the right-hand side of the door. Once satisfied it was secure, she gently pushed the door frame open and stepped over the brink into the gloom.
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Image sourced from Pixabay.