The rain patters on the tent above and all around me, a quiet noise whose pattern moves in the complex rhythms of nature. Outside, the fire still crackles and pops in a harmony to that rhythm. From time to time, rain would fall directly onto seared wood and sizzle. The leaves chitter and chatter in the wind, a soft, white noise that pays no heed to the drive of the rain. On the ground outside, a possum snuffles around the seams of the tent, searching for food or shelter. Inside the tent my dad lays on the floor in his mummy sleeping bag and snores in no particular rhythm at all. The sound of my own breathing, steady and low, is amplified inside our vinyl shelter.Tonight, I will sleep. I will dream. I will rest.
“Did you hear that?”“What?”“That!”“Dude, you’re paranoid.”“I swear to god, it’s something! Something big.”“You are such a--” Tony’s words cut off. A large paw pressed against the side of the tent. Four claws punctured the fabric, tearing parallel slits.For the next few minutes all that could be heard were screams. And then silence.
C.N., that was beautiful! So many great sounds in this piece. Lovely.
Ha! Heather, great contrast to C.N.! Ah, the horror! I think about that every time I go camping...
Loved yours, Nevets. Very poetic!
Thanks for hitting the contrasting theme so well, Heather! I practically live for camping so it was hard for me to pick a direction, and I was really hoping to see some good alternatives. And I *love* your description of the paw pressing, then slicing. Nice!
Wow! You both nailed it - in such different ways!