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Post by alfred on Dec 10, 2016 16:24:57 GMT -5
setting: something crash lands in your family's cornfield. what to do, what to do.
just trying something. feel free to jump in here or through a pm.
Despite the burning glow of a falling star, the night's been relatively peaceful. The corn sways gently in a passing breeze, resilient and determined not to be bowled over by one gust too many. Their leaves scrape against each other creating soft murmurings so delicate they almost go unheard. Overhead, a veil of heavy clouds pass quickly, gaps not yet mended leaking starlight. Nothing disturbs the serenity but the cry of a coyote and the loose creak of an open screen door.
It's a low rumble that grows increasing louder, second by second. It starts as nothing, its intensity creeping up to a low hum before it finally roars over house and home. It glowers, shinning brightly, flames licking at its tail. Quite easily, one might mistake for a rather close encounter with a rather large meteorite. However, it does something unexpected. It slows down. Not enough to stop the impact but, at least, to hamper it. In a cloud of dust, it finally hits, lost in a sea of corn. It throws up dirt and smoldering bits of metal. It's a display both frightening and oddly satisfying. What stalks aren't entirely destroyed are brushed back in the near radius of the object's impact zone.
As quickly as it had come, it had gone. From the edges of the field, it appears as though nothing has happened. The night's returned to its prior self. The corn is whispering of secrets untold, the coyote's crying a fitful spell, and that screen door is gently tap tap tapping away.
- - - In the center of a dying fire and twisted metal, a door opens. From up to down, it slides, exposing a ramp of stairs. For a precious few minutes, nothing happens. There's a struggle, only noticeable by the loud thuds of a stumbling figure. He emerges, practically falling from the rubbled. He's unsteady on his feet and clasps both sides of the doorway for stability. Embers wink at him from between blades of crushed corn and small flames wave vigorously. He steps down the ramp to greet them, turning to stare at the wreckage as he finally collapses. Laying on his back, his expression is troublesome and his gaze vacant.
Running both hands - stained with grease - down his face, he smears sweat and dirt over his brow. With a sniff, he raises to a sitting position, wiping at the grime with one sleeve. There's nothing extraordinary about the man. In fact, if it wasn't for the mystery ship, he'd appear entirely human. Jaw tight and lips pursed, he pushes off the ground and stands. He's intact but not unscathed. He can feel a warmness pool in his boot and doesn't care to look at the trail of blood he leaves as he lumbers forward.
He's shaking but relatively unfazed, the shock overwhelmed by a steady rush of adrenaline. Lowering himself to the second step of the ship's ramp, he sits and stares, composing himself before he prepares for the next course of action.
EDIT: my tenses here are a mess. sorry.
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