And another excerpt. This one took me longer than the others. Sigh.
In this great hall was motherbear. Ursamama, the maternal birth of all the bear men and women, all the bear children. There she rested, slept, tossed and turned in centuries old hibernation.
Living things covered her body. Ecosystems that rose and fell and rose again on her fur while she slept the sleep of generations. Snails crawled, insects fought, spiders ate. Little villages arose, tiny places. Molds, fungus, plants that sprouted tiny green leaves and flowers along her spine. When she rolled over, countless creatures scurried from front to back and back to front. Her eyes twisted, crusted shut with earth. Two trees grew from each shoulder, tangled roots across face and fur.
Ohhh, that’s a great visual.
yeah, the bear mother is my favorite part of the story
Damn! I have said it once and I will say it again: your prose is pure poetry.
Have you ever written poetry? Twenty three years ago (when I was ten) I really fell in love with writing poetry; It became my favored form of expression for many years thereafter (favored over my short story and songwriting). Now, my prose (novel/short fiction), poetry, and songwriting are in fair balance.
Well, I would say I wrote some poetry for awhile, about 15 years ago or so. I also wrote a lot of plays back then as well. I’m probably more influenced by the poetry I read (from then until now) then the poetry I write, since my prose poetry is good, but my actual poetry is weak.