Simple text:
 

The cabin sat beneath the pine trees in patched moonlight. As the night breeze moved the great branches in communion above the home, the patchwork also moved, imbuing the cabin with a preternatural spirit. Only in the clearing where the blueberries grew wild was the moonlight steady, though etched with shadows. There, the earth and low-lying shrubs sat prominently upon the edge of the hill in a field that seemed to bear watch over the lake below. The water of the lake was at peace despite the breeze that passed along the hill. Only the glittering flecks of moonlight upon the surface denoted motion and life.

Inside the cabin, at a window on the wall farthest from the blueberry fields and lake, a hand pushed aside a curtain. The darkness within the room was more pitch, more pronounced than the darkness outside. In the room, there was no moving patchwork of moonlight, no candle, nothing luminous whatsoever, save the lit end of a cigarette. The only sound within the room was the exhalation of breath and smoke, and the dull tick of a watch splayed upon the wooden tabletop.

The occupant of the cabin sat motionless, watching through the window, looking beyond the thin line of dying trees to the old wooden fence. The area within four sides of fencing was barren, except for a gnarled, misshapen tree and three slabs of stone that protruded from the earth. Remaining motionless, the man in the cabin did not break his gaze. He watched the entire area, but kept his attention, with an almost mystical focus, upon the site of the three tombs. And he waited.

© Copyright  Tom Occhipinti  2006

Color-coded text for discussion in Writing 002 -- How to Open Your Story: Part One:
 

The cabin sat beneath the pine trees in patched moonlight. As the night breeze moved the great branches in communion above the home, the patchwork also moved, imbuing the cabin with a preternatural spirit. Only in the clearing where the blueberries grew wild was the moonlight steady, though etched with shadows. There, the earth and low-lying shrubs sat prominently upon the edge of the hill in a field that seemed to bear watch over the lake below. The water of the lake was at peace despite the breeze that passed along the hill. Only the glittering flecks of moonlight upon the surface denoted motion and life.

Inside the cabin, at a window on the wall farthest from the blueberry fields and lake, a hand pushed aside a curtain. The darkness within the room was more pitch, more pronounced than the darkness outside. In the room, there was no moving patchwork of moonlight, no candle, nothing luminous whatsoever, save the lit end of a cigarette. The only sound within the room was the exhalation of breath and smoke, and the dull tick of a watch splayed upon the wooden tabletop.

The occupant of the cabin sat motionless, watching through the window, looking beyond the thin line of dying trees to the old wooden fence. The area within four sides of fencing was barren, except for a gnarled, misshapen tree and three slabs of stone that protruded from the earth. Remaining motionless, the man in the cabin did not break his gaze. He watched the entire area, but kept his attention, with an almost mystical focus, upon the site of the three tombs. And he waited.