/lit/ - Literature

Do I have potential?

The wind tasted metallic and chilled under a sky shrouded and grey. The ground was but puddles of mud and swaths of wet grass still to squish under her boots. The path, worn and beat: roots ever so flat led past tree trunks ringed with silver markers to trail the wide river near upon the purlieu of forest surfeit and endless. Perennial streams ran across the arena fading behind some of the many rolling hills. Stones bridged the channels, nor did they dam the flow of water. A white popular sprouted from the earth salient among the dark milieu as if of marble and in furs with squirrels leering from their branches.

Lexi spotted movement in the periphery; she stopped. Birds flew away from the fall of a pinecone. The blood in her temples pulsed tight under her skin. A crack ruptured through the air, and a limb pounded the Earth, exploding rock and expelling dust upon impact, followed by syncopated pitter-patter along the ridgeline too long to be an echo or squirrel or deer. The noise continued strong over her hastened steps tripping over roots and sliding across loose gravel under darting eyes snapping toward flapping birds and running rodents along a narrowing, stretching fissure of long, curved trees; and as she stumbled and fought to control her frenetic movements, the crunch behind her grew closer, competing with the kick in her chest, but it was the—

>>21817580
No, he's a caricature of masculinity.