/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.6938439]

Hey /lit/. You like my little scene? And also critique thread.

The animal flinched and ran, getting two strides away before stiffening and falling sideways past some ferns. When they arrived, it was shivering in the dirt, trying to stand up, its bones sharp through warm, sliding skin. A rear leg, healthy and strong, kicked out, striking Ven in the knee with a small hoof that felt like a slung stone.
'Hold, hold its horn,' he said, moving round to the tail.
Between its ribs, a bloodless hole tightly sealed by clean hair, a long spear dragging across the dust. The boy in question stood pale with his slender flint hand slack, his worried eyes searching this scene for another outcome. There wasn't one. Ven rose and pointed at the deer's neck. Hesitating, the boy knelt down.
He lifted the axehead, then wiped away a tear, shuffling to sit.
'Go on.'
Again, his arm came high but, again, he didn't lower it. Ven stepped forwards, took the weighty slither from his grasp and brought it into the creature's throat. Two firm, downward strikes - with sawing flicks, just as he'd been shown when he was this boy's age.
The leg which had given Ven's knee this terrible ache lurched out once more, as though the animal was running in a final dream, running somewhere without whittled sticks and rippled stones. Somewhere much better than here. Then it was completely still.
'I am sorry,' the boy said, his face crumpled. He was crying without a sound.
Ven took his hand and placed it on the animal's skull. The boy seemed reluctant to touch it, but Ven held it in place. 'Remember how you felt, remember why you didn't want to do it,' he said. The boy looked confused. 'You mustn't forget that.’
Dusk had brought a flat covering of skysea above, clear and pinked towards the edge.
'What will we say?'
'About what?' Ven asked, glancing at the other two. The boy and girl were standing in silence, hands tight around their wrapped wood. It'd be their turn soon enough.
'About who killed it?' the boy sniffed. 'It was meant to be me.'
'Whose spear is that?' Ven said. 'I don't think this creature had a bright future with it in his lung. So that's what we'll say. We'll say you threw a sting from twenty paces and brought down a stag. What further details will they ask?'
The boy smiled and wiped his nose.
Ven remembered when he'd first done this - how the flesh had felt, how the weight and strength had shocked him. Furred silk when stroked head to haunch, a coarse brush when passed any other way.
'Well,' he added. 'Drag it home.'

[Anonymous No.6938485]

bump

[Anonymous No.6938550]

inb4 poetry

[Anonymous No.6938557]

>>6938550
Poetry is welcome.

[Anonymous No.6938602]

>>6938557
I'll post something when I get to my computer.

[black raptor No.6938608]

>>6938439
ur supposed to put "critique" in the thread title so its searchable u stupid cunt

[Anonymous No.6938647]

>>6938608
You found it...

Also, control f would pick that up...

[black raptor No.6938649]

>>6938647
no retard I just stumbled upon it
ctrl f doesnt search across multiple page besides the word critique is used everywhere fuck you newfag your prose is shit

[Anonymous No.6938661]

>>6938649
Finally, some critique.