Extreme Writing 2021

Extreme Writing 2021 Culminated By Xiaoyu Huang

Sol and Luna The mane of Sol morphs into rays of light The wings of Luna spread forth the stars that contrast the veil of abyssal night They share the sky, yet they are impossibly far apart They are polar opposites, but they dance around the astral planes day and night They shed light into the sky, but only at turn They create two colors, yet are twins The heat of Sol’s fangs draw in the water The winds of Luna’s breath craft the waves

Wrecked The sea was agitated. Great mountains of water rose triumphantly, and came crashing down. On the ship. I watched from the murky window of my cabin. The lights were on, but the dark, endless ocean that lay out unfolded in front of me dwarfed everything. The ship lurched queasily, as though we were on the belly of some sort of giant human who was hyperventilating in their sleep, rising meters in the air, and coming down, like the dark waters around me, like all things one day should. There was another abrupt, sharper lurch. High-pitched creaks vibrated through the metal hull. People screamed. I thought nothing of it at first, probably children screaming i told myself, and i turned out the light and rolled onto my bed. I was aroused by the feeling of cold, cold water brushing my ears. The sharpness startled me and i rolled over, off my bed, plunging into knee-deep water. I shot out of the water in a panic. The boat was sinking. I was on the third deck, and my snapped to the people who may have already perished in my slumber, but my mind returned when i realised i was out of oxygen. I got up and waded as hastily as i could in the darkness of the cabin, feeling desperately for the door. By now, the water was up to my waist, and showing no signs of stopping. I winced in pain as some of the the saltwater seeped into a wound that had been inflicted from a blade-like jut in the railings, but still, i had to press on. My hand at last felt the door, and i turned the knob. Light from the corridor flooded into my eyes. The water here was deeper, up to my chest. A slimy fish brushed my leg, but when i turned around, i realised with great shock it was a limp, dead carcass. Tear welled up my eyes, blurring my vision more.

The ship lurched forward with a colossal groan of metal bolts loosening and snapping. I clambered up the first few steps, one two, thr- I winced as my knee slammed into the fourth stair, and yet again i was plunged into the deep, freezing waters. The current was overbearing, tugging, trying to carry me away from my goal, though my reflexes were quick enough to grab the railing. As the water continued to rise, i slowly dragged myself up the railing, and managed to reach the top of the stairs. Gathering the last of my dwindling strength, i stood up limply and made my way to the deck door painfully slowly, but swiftly enough to evade the final snap of the nails loosely holding the ship together. I didn’t give time to think what would have been of me if i was any slower as my eye was caught on another scene occurring before me. All the lifeboats were disengaged, and a few unlucky stragglers such as myself were stranded on a sinking half- ship. I watched as a distraught woman cradling what appeared to be a white bundle in her arms threw it towards the row of boats, “Please, save Timmy!” She screamed. The wrapped baby fell short of its target, slowly sinking into the depths of the water. The ship staggered forward again, nearly at a forty-five degree angle. It tottered in this position for a few seconds, then the force of gravity reeled it backwards, hull up into the sea. My eyes popped as the sudden pressure crushed me from above. My heavy eyelids lifted open. THe entirety of my body was covered in white sand, and my hair was saturated with seaweed and balls of sand. Every few seconds water would lap up to my feet, then recede. A wave of euphoria washed over me. Are you insane? I asked myself, but i felt as if my age had reduced to an infant's’ one, and i was being cradled and soothed by my loving mother. I sighed a sigh that bore the weight of last nights’ event and went back to the warm darkness of sleep.

Appetite The deep rich wood of a cosy cottage A dreary mug of coffee marking the beginning of another monotonous day in the office A creamy, velvety piece of chocolate bliss running smoothly down the throat The growling famished dog trampling violently towards you Deep dark faeces getting plunged down a toilet

Child’s Play As the bowl-like seat pirouettes unendingly, the young victim of such a sly trap’s eyes blare open. Banshee-like screams unveil, and pedestrians strolling by assume a murder is unfolding as they leap to their phones, calling emergency services. Before continuing this ghastly story, it would be fitting to show you a scene before young Jimathon’s unfortunate encounter with a spinner bowl in a hill-top playground… Jimathon was wheezed from the exasperating trek up the mountain side. His formerly cheery blue clothes were stained a light brown- the color of sweat blended with dust and dirt, and his neck was painted a fine pink-red color, effects from the sun’s wrath. Jak, his brother, contrastingly, was perfectly fine, having rode up to the mountaintop in a ski lift. At the far end of the playground, Jimathon saw the only available seating here, a small round seat. Knowing his tormenting brother, he dashed, answering the seductive calls of happiness and rest. Jak, however, just grinned a sly, arrogant grin. You can probably guess the next moments of Jimathon’s life, both by the prior scene and the beginning one. Sorrow, agony and severe nausea. He was spinning clockwise, though his head, mind, and the rest of the world was spinning reversely, around. And around. And around.

Consuming Ice Cream The ice cream emits a soft glow, engulfing and bathing my body in its beauty. My face gleams with delight. Half-solid, half-liquid, the runny, cold blob glides gently down my tongue, coating it with a chilled, sweet ecstasy. It melts, releasing more of its icy goodness onto my begging tongue, more, more! I unconsciously continue to lick the frozen cream, enticing my salivating taste buds ever so much more. The glory of it! Next comes the cone, a mellow pastry, a glorious vessel for the god-like ice cream. It crunches softly as do the crispy orange leaves of autumn, and carries more flowing bliss into my mouth. I proceed to nibble at the crusty surface of the bottom of the cone, allowing the remaining liquid to drain into my gaping mouth. Before I know it, the last of the cone is being crushed by my molars, over and over. I’m finished.

The Twenty-Fifth Hour Red pens blot paper green Ancient trees hundreds of years old shrink into seedlings The skybound clouds shimmer blue, As the sky fades to white Airplanes glide along at ground level, And flightless birds soar high in the air, no longer confined to the ground Black will make their advance first in chess Rivers and streams trickle uphill, And the waning tides of the ocean froth red with blood In the african serengeti, lions are stalked by black and yellow zebras Cows leap over a gleaming yellow, cheesy moon, And desperate fish flop onto dry land The twenty fifth hour has begun