/lit/ - Literature

Who's up for a writing thread? Post whatever crap you're working on, and constructively criticize everything that's posted. To start us off here are the first few paragraphs for a story I just recently began writing.

>set in a vaguely industrial age where each city and town in the world is united under a worldwide government dictated and organized entirely by colour. The system is a little like Apple or Nintendo in that simplicity is king and babbies eat it up.

The wind was a demon on the way to James Dilly at the post office.

Jason found that the soil on top of Ochre was far softer than that of Malachite, or Blood, or his home at Cyan, so that his shoes would sink ever so deeply into the ground each time he took a step. As far as his ward was telling the ground was hollow; apparently there were around fourty men underground working the levers and pulleys that made the lifts elevate up from the desert below. The two travelled along quickly through the markets onto the jagged-stoned pavements that climbed up and down over the elevated mass of sand and steel, surrounded by impatient people adorned in robes thick enough to withstand the sandstorms Ochre let run through its crevices. It was a violent shift from what Jason had become accustomed to at home.

The streets were flanked on both sides by shops and townhouses coloured their dirty yellows and pale oranges and built mostly from the land, tinged a slightly noticeable red like the desert surrounding them. Discombobulated voices caressed Ochre’s passages barely audible; buskers and street urchins tried to make a quick buck enchanting tourists with Eastern song and dance but could only just be heard over the bustle pervading each and every inch of the colossal city and the whirr of machinery below. The ward was a large, closemouthed man dressed in some of the finest clothes from Cyan, black from head to toe, with a half-lit cigarette rested eternally atop his bottom lip. He barked things like, “come on numbskull!” and “let’s go, you mangy lookin’ thing...” as if on constant autopilot, every now and again calming himself enough to describe some extraneous detail. He saw it fit to keep pace with the wind so that Jason tripped over a large collage of mismatched stones that made up the footpath as he struggled to keep up. The ward looked terribly out of place in Ochre; the sort of man no one in the ‘Great Eastern City’ failed to question, if only to themselves, as he lumbered into view. Jason did his best to avoid insult as they hurried on towards the overly complex, overly streamlined post office James Dilly worked at.

>>1754985

>intellect

>my face when I live in a Arizona suburb and all the Mexicans I see are day laborers working in the July heat.

>my face when my female classmate says its misogynistic to call The Bell Jar whiny

Poli Sci at UNLV. Not going to land you a dream job right away, but people always want to talk to me about it.

What majors do you detest? I can't stand business majors....

Pic related. He is doin' it wrong.