Foggy Sadness

By the fifth week of yellow fog, they had cried so many tears inside Willard Canyon that Jarum had to kill a giant bird with a slingshot, lay the monster on its back and lacquer the corpse until it was a solid raft, because the salty water was already up to their ankles. A flood seemed inevitable. The air was very angry. The wind was a stagnant belch that occasionally slithered up from the rotten belly of sadness. The Great Emerald Mountains had turned a profane, muddy brown, and the sky had hidden her face in deep grey sorrow.  The sun was a black eye on the face of a beaten god. Then came the mental storms. The children had all eaten off their pinky fingers and big toes . The dogs began to run backwards and quote false scripture in a cockney accent. Jarum’s father, Lungo, had become so angry, that, two weeks ago, he’d buried himself in cornmeal, and demanded to be fried and eaten. He said it was the only way he could help his people, because his hunts had yielded nothing but a few hairless rabbits and one anemic hippopotamus with blue eyes. Of course, nobody would fry up the Chief Elder, so he just laid there, in the cornmeal, mooing viscous pain like a wounded water yak. Jarum and his mother, Xunea, would take turns bringing Lungo meals. Usually, he’d just rub the stew on his face and sing songs about dead kings and mushy tomatoes. Jarum did not know what he could do to change any of this. He needed a plan to save his people and his way of life. But, how could a 15 year old boy make Nature submit to his own puny will?

Reviews

[roarke]

hmm, for a minute, I could have sworn you were talking about a magical breed of rodents, like in Narnia or something....
My mistake.
Is there a village? group of shacks, a loose gathering of survivors exposed to the elements? A word about this maybe. The people and circumstances are excellently portrayed. A good feel for the opening, lots of expectation for the reader to wet his imagination on.

[Poetic Beauty]

Wow this pulled me in and held me there. The metaphors are strong and slap you in the face. He wanted to be deep fried. Now that whole part is a a scene that can be mentally pictured in the mind. Almost comical of the rolling in cornmeal but the message comes across loud and clear. Think I will be reading more shortly.