Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-31073921-20170228192627/@comment-28266772-20170313135956

The breeze brushed against my cheek and forced past my arm into my mouth and nose. It started to howl, beginning as a low whisper and twisting into an angry scream across the land. The sun emerged from the clouds, like a killer from the curtain peering out at me. It baked my skin and bones as I gazed over what used to be a town, but now looked more like a desert, only planks and boards jutting from the sky of dust. Sand blew into my bloodshot eyes as I looked up at the sky. It was radiant, and it hurt to look at. I looked back down to the sand, which was no better. I started to walk, and every step against the hot sand hurt.

''Pit pat. Pit pat.''

The wind was like a banshee now, unloading into my ears and around my body. I place my bloodied feet onto the sand once more, clutching my ragged clothes close and wishing I had kept my canteen.

''Pit pat. Pit pat.''

I stopped and rested on my my [repetition] knees, and dust blew along my shirt and under, scratching my blistered skin. I saw an old playground, its paint bleached and burned. Only one part of it was completely uncovered, a small swing set. On it was a man, no a boy. He must of [have, not ‘of’] have been no more than twelve.

“Pretty ain’t it?”

He asked while staring out into the town. I got up onto my shaking legs as the wind smashed into me, delivering gust after gust. He sighed.

“Did you hear me, or are you ignoring me?”

His voice sounded sweet, yet brittle. Listening made my bones ache, and my skin feet [felt] like nails were being driven into them. He lifted his feet off the sand and let the swing slowly go back and forth. Back and forth.

''Creek. Crick. Creek. Crick.''

I walked forward listening to the chorus of the gods.

''Pit. Creek. Pat. Crick. Pit. Creek. Pat.''

I stepped forwards again, letting my skin shrivel under the light. And he looked at me. His eyes were a deep red, and throbbed when I stared deep into them. There was a deep black skin around them, littered with sand and residue. He set his unscuffed feet on the ground, abruptly stopped with the creaking.

Cree-

We stood there eye to eye. The wind engulfed us, and the sun rippled through my cracked lips.

“It’s a real beauty.”

I grunted, my eyes unwavering. His dark lips curved into a grin. It made me want to retch. His lips again parted.

<p class="MsoNormal">“What’s your name?”

<p class="MsoNormal">I trembled now and my gaze broke his. His eyes burned into the back of my head. I fell again, to one knee and winced. I looked up and again met his cold, dead gaze [gaze; repetition] as my exerted muscles quivered.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I don’t know.”

<p class="MsoNormal">I managed to blurt, and some blood spat out. Some fell into the sandy sea, but most of it blew right back into my face. The wind stopped, puttering out to a low whine before fading into nothing. I winced again, feeling a sharp pain in my gut, and I looked to see more blood coating it. When I looked up he was gone, and I wearily stood up. I trampled onward listening to my feet once more as I had for hours on end.

<p class="MsoNormal">''Pit pat. Pit pat.''

<p class="MsoNormal">I looked back after a while, seeing the long dried bones of a boy sitting on the swingset holding an iron canteen, with ‘No Name’ carved into it.

<p class="MsoNormal">Pit.

<p class="MsoNormal">-

<p class="MsoNormal">This seems a lot better. I’d appreciate it if you got another admin’s opinion before submitting it though. I can’t vouch with 100% if this passes QS.