Sample:

Morning came to color as the sun burned away the mist. The air was beginning to warm by slow, steady degrees, and early winter thaw had flooded the riverbeds that passed into the south from the ashen grey cliffs. The environs adjusted to spring’s early arrival, with all the more foliage and life for the season, as vines draped from the tallest branches of trees, and salmon returned to the basin to spawn and die.

The nameless woodland had not changed beyond the slightest of natural shifts since before man walked the earth, and it would endure into his passing. Still, on this day that began with a morning like any other, something unnatural interrupted nature and brought to pause, all the customary busyness of the forest.

Everything that dwelled in the shadow of the black mountain trembled and quieted as the protest began. It sounded like thunder, and yet it was not from elements and forces in the air. To the life that crawled or flew in the woodland, it bore itself as absolute sacrilege. And nothing would be normal again until it passed.

                   
                  © Copyright  Tom Occhipinti  2006