/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.20398171]

Write in your best prose what destiny awaits this little one.

[Anonymous No.20398176]

>>20398171
like right in the text box of a fisheries feedback page?

[Anonymous No.20398300]

>May the four virtues be his guide,
>Right reason for a teacher be;
>From school he shall none make abie.
>And the same shall his memory be.
By virtue of these instructions a little child only seven years of age, to be bound out as a weaver, went away with his parents contented and joyful at leaving a situation so inferior. It should be noted that, before choosing where to betake himself, he called at the house of the parish beadle, where he made him a present of a piece of salt fish--perhaps one of his perquisites that he had taken for himself out of the house-tax.

[Anonymous No.20398301]

>>20398171
Stupid frogposter.

[Anonymous No.20398355]

>>20398171
Sunlight began bleeding over the horizon, illuminating him as he began his walk on an unfamiliar road that led to a place he didn't know.
He had decided on it while laying in bed the night before, that he would travel somewhere new, and so he did. He set out on a journey down a road he had never walked, to a place he had never been.
Mystery lay on the horizon like the sun just now rising above the hills. He didn't know what he was to find or experience on this chilly winter day, but he knew it would be good, and it was.

[Anonymous No.20398409]

>>20398171
After sunset, the little frog freezes to death.

[Anonymous No.20398459]

It didn't matter that there was a bone chewing cold that briskly seeped through the skin well into the flesh like radiation. Or that on both sides of the road the vegetation was reduced to grey piles of haystacks, whose color was the hemorrhagic ashen hue of cobwebs that revealed mossy highlights, exposing the structure of the tendrils of greenery underneath. One famelic, vestigial tree stretched its corpse-like husk vertically. Its leafless tops turned to the mane of a hysterical medusa, coiling in rebellious snake-like branches, spilling and spreading veins trying to merge their bloodstream with the heavens. He expected the alabaster palor of the skies of these cold days, which he liked to observe and try to understand, until one day, one silver-lining, more a dusty silver of a jewel forgotten into the drawers of previous generations than a glistening proud pair of earrings of a young woman, allowed him to tell that it was the contours of a bovine multitude of corpulent clouds that seamlessly bled into each other and covered the skies. But today, the skies were a haze of lavender and roseate fumes gently glowed on by the golden touch of the sunset. Were this a white-skies day of killer cold, which almost invariably befall the church-going festivals and saint holidays, and it is almost always during these days that your mother takes you by the hand to brave the grievous hike of the multiple steps up the church, the ascent that takes you to where the smoke of the barbecue, the raucous cacophonous music and the seasonal candy awaits. They were a mist in which you lost yourself back then, unaware that in each song, sweet, cherry bomb and piece of meat you were leisurely building nostalgia block by block. In days similar to those you can even feel, inadvertently, the reverberations of some memories. But in today's watercolors of blushing glows of lilac and coral, with a mist that covers the marshes and the bridges and the big city beyond the horizon, there was nothing quite like it in his brain to connect to. Having never seen such exquisite radiance before, he felt not nostalgia, but amazement at it all. An entire new set of colors and sounds, tastes and stretches through which to trek. An entire new world of people, occasions, celebrations, adventures. All of which to connect to this here day of grape and cherry skies, nostalgia to build today for the days of tomorrow. Today was the first day of the rest of his treasured memories.

[Anonymous No.20398472]

His way may be icey but he apprehends the warm waves of dawn as they make their move. May the waves make his way wet so that hedge will be watered and Apu at home.

[Anonymous No.20398572]

>>20398459
>One famelic, vestigial tree stretched its corpse-like husk vertically.
The word "vertically" is pointless here. Where else does a tree stretch? I would write it as
>stretched its corpse-like husk up from the pale earth.
Maybe not the best, but I'm sure you can see what I'm trying to say.

>Its leafless tops turned to the mane of a hysterical medusa, coiling in rebellious snake-like branches, spilling and spreading veins trying to merge their bloodstream with the heavens.
Some of this is good, but some of these words rub me the wrong way. Particularly the word "rebellious", rebellious of what? I think a better work would be "venomous".

>the contours of a bovine multitude of corpulent clouds
Way too bogged down by its needless wordiness.

I do like some of that stuff at the end about the nature of nostalgia, but I think you just need to be more picky with the words you use, and don't be afraid to cull certain words when it's getting a bit much.

[Anonymous No.20398582]

>>20398572
Another thing I forgot to mention is
>briskly seeped through the skin well into the flesh
I would add an "and" between skin and well.
>briskly seeped through the skin and well into the flesh
Small change, but makes the flow better imo.
Also, you should format your text properly. I had to copy and paste your wall of writing into google docs just so I could format it properly to make it more readable. It may not seem a big deal to you, but that's because you wrote it. Other people see that wall of text and just get put off.

[Anonymous No.20398612]

>>20398300
Pigeon-toed.
>>20398459
Laborious wall of text that fails to hook the reader.