The obelisk among the trees - By Daniel
The jungle was getting thicker, and the donkeys were growing even more restless; theyd been acting stubbornly all day. They are donkeys, Professor! exclaimed our guide when I brought it up; she was a gorgeous Brazilian woman much younger than me but certainly much more of an expert when it came to donkeys, or at least so I thought.
The expedition was resting 175 km southwest of Macapuana, deep inside absolute wilderness. The Akkadian map wasnt really very precise, and there was still a lot of jungle to cover, a lot. We hadnt heard from any of the other venturing parties, and that meant no one had found anything yet; that was good news, at least to me, although not so much to my companions, Professors Riley and Munroe, who felt something wasnt quite right. The donkeys were definitely not helping.
It wasnt until Peter mentioned his lack of mosquito bites that we truly noticed something was off. We were surrounded by a whole jungle, and we could hear no sound other than the anxious tapping and whining of the donkeys! Bastards finally managed to ran away.
After that silent night, I never saw another creature again. None.
Run back!
The expedition was resting 175 km southwest of Macapuana, deep inside absolute wilderness. The Akkadian map wasnt really very precise, and there was still a lot of jungle to cover, a lot. We hadnt heard from any of the other venturing parties, and that meant no one had found anything yet; that was good news, at least to me, although not so much to my companions, Professors Riley and Munroe, who felt something wasnt quite right. The donkeys were definitely not helping.
It wasnt until Peter mentioned his lack of mosquito bites that we truly noticed something was off. We were surrounded by a whole jungle, and we could hear no sound other than the anxious tapping and whining of the donkeys! Bastards finally managed to ran away.
After that silent night, I never saw another creature again. None.
Run back!
Comments (12)
Why the but? Why wouldn't a young good-looking Brazilian female forest guide be more of a donkey expert than the narrator? Aside from that, this just looks like the author's fantasy, as she isn't mentioned again. I guess it does help establish that the narrator is middle-aged or older, but still, that doesn't save it entirely.
Quoting Caldwell
I quite like the unexplained reference to the Akkadians, but I'm confused by it. Akkad was in Mesopotamia, and the story is set in a rainforest. Also, the last "a lot" should be removed. It's clumsy and unnecessary, and doesn't even work well as emphasis.
Quoting Caldwell
This is a very nice callback to the beginning. It gives the story shape and sense. Nicely done.
Quoting Caldwell
Who's Peter?
Quoting Caldwell
No need for the exclamation mark, in my opinion.
Quoting Caldwell
Run, not ran.
Quoting Caldwell
Remove "None". It's trying to strengthen what is being conveyed but only weakens it.
Quoting Caldwell
I'm not sure who is saying this. The narrator? The guide? And to whom?
There is no mention, suggestion, or hint of an obelisk in the story, and that's a problem. We might conjecture that whatever is going on is caused by the obelisk, but the author is just making the reader do all the work, and that's unsatisfying because it all remains so vague.
I like the setting and atmosphere, and I did want to find out what happened next, but on its own it's very incomplete. It stops before anything happens.
The title takes away from or adds nothing to the mystery. The reader can guess that the obelisk is the cause of the sinister anomaly but so what, we still have next to nothing.
Get rid of "run back". I'd rather believe everyone vanished or has been absorbed into the pall of the silent forest. No one is left to give the warning and no one is left to hear it. The eerie, otherwordly silence is the warning. Caveat silentum.
AI generating prompt: "cosmic horror in the silent jungle with expedition of donkeys" in oil painting style
Sheer brilliance. Both of ya'.
'AI generating prompt: "cosmic horror in the silent jungle with expedition of donkeys" in oil painting style'
Nothing else to add except the Prof doesn't seem to know his ass from his elbow.
An absent mind. Just as well he never saw another creature, if you ask me.
What did they ever do to deserve him...
Oh no, don't tell me. This is another AI produced story :roll:
I like it because it has such an intense visual feel. It is like being drawn into the jungle scene and in a short form of description manages to capture the art of showing rather than telling.
Ughh! :roll: I received a gift of Lovecraft collection that I haven't opened. Thanks for reminding me.
@Caldwell you should read that collection. The guy is an amazing writer.... At the mountains of madness the best I have read so far (fuck Cthulhu, i think is a bit too overrated)
That's Lovecraft, makes you get into the story with almost all your senses... mine, an amateur attempt to copy his style, but I am glad I made you feel surrounded by the jungle and that horrible, never-ending silence.
Don't know the Loci method, but I am glad it stook in your mind - hopefully it didnt give you any nightmares!
Below the edited version. I hope you guys like this version better; I'll keep working on it, so any feedback will be welcomed.
The obelisk among the trees.
The jungle was getting thicker, warmer, wetter, unbearable, and the donkeys, they were growing even more restless; theyd been acting stubbornly all morning, seemingly wanting to go back. They are donkeys, Professor! exclaimed our guide with a playfully dismissive tone when I brought the matter up; she was a gorgeous Brazilian woman much younger than me but certainly much more of an expert when it came to donkeys, or at least so I thought. I shouldve listened to the donkeys.
The expedition was resting 175 km southwest of Macapuana, deep within absolute wilderness. The Akkadian map wasnt really very precise, and there was still a lot of jungle to cover, maybe a couple more days, no more than a week, we hoped. We hadnt heard from any of the other venturing parties, and that meant no one had found anything yet; this was good news, at least to me, although not so much to my companions, Professors Riley and Munroe, who kept insisting something didnt feel quite right. The donkeys were definitely not helping.
It wasnt until Peter mentioned his lack of mosquito bites that we truly noticed something was off. We were surrounded by an entire jungle, and we could hear no sound other than the anxious tapping and whining of the donkeys which with the sinking of the sun steadily evolved into a chaotic frenzy, bursting right before dusk; what a terrifying display it was. Shortly after, they managed to run away; who knows if they were lucky enough to scape.
The night was filled with an utterly horrifying dark silence like the one that inhabits deep beneath the Earths surface. When I woke up, I was completely alone.
My eyes never saw another creature again.
Okay. I will. Thanks.
Your revised ending is still too abrupt. Part of the charm of cosmic horror is the anticipation/suspense toward whatever the narrator is encircling or being encircled by, which maybe isn't easily compatible with the tiny word limit. We don't get to enjoy that stepwise descent toward an unveiling of horror/mystery/madness.
Your narrator is telling us telling us a bit of what happened yet he never sees another creature again (and we are left wanting). So to whom is he recounting the story? Maybe you could pull it off as a last diary entry, or letter left behind.
Hee-haw!
The obelisk among the trees.
The jungle was getting thicker, warmer, wetter, unbearable, and the donkeys, they were growing even more restless; theyd been acting stubbornly all morning, seemingly wanting to go back. "They are donkeys, Professor!", exclaimed our guide with a playfully dismissive tone when I brought the matter up; she was a gorgeous Brazilian woman much younger than me but certainly much more of an expert when it came to donkeys, or at least so I thought. I shouldve listened to the damed donkeys.
The expedition stopped to rest 175 km southwest of Macapuana, deep within absolute wilderness. The Akkadian map wasnt really very precise, and there was still a lot of jungle to cover, maybe a couple more days, no more than a week, we hoped. We hadnt received any radio communications from any of the other venturing parties, and that meant no one had found anything yet; this was good news, at least to me, although not so much to my companions, Professors Riley and Munroe, who kept insisting something didnt feel quite right; a nervous pair, I must say. The donkeys were definitely not helping.
But it wasnt until Peter mentioned his lack of (new) mosquito bites that we truly noticed something was off. We were surrounded by an entire jungle, and we could hear no sound other than the anxious tapping and whining of the donkeys. From time to time a falling branch resonated across the green abyss, as Professor Munroe so cleverly termed the bizarre experience, giving the landscape a more sinister aroma. We were very curious at first, we are explorers, but with the sinking of the sun the behaviour of the donkeys steadily evolved into a chaotic frenzy, bursting right before dusk; what a terrifying display it was. Neither Peter nor the ropes were enough to keep them with us. They managed to run away; who knows if they were lucky enough to scape.
We were close, we could feel it.
The night was filled with an utterly horrifying dark silence like the one that inhabits deep beneath the Earths surface; I closed my eyes and felt the emptiness, Oh, Mr. Munroe! When I woke up, I was completely alone. No one to hear my words, only trees and their leaves and their sad melodies. My eyes, they never saw another creature again, and now I am here lost in solitude once more and for the last time. We were close, too close.