During October we will be sharing passages that we’ve written independently from the same prompt.
Today we have a different kind of prompt, the setting/picture prompt. A member of our critique group brought this in for us all to try.
Here is the inspiration photo we were provided:
Evans knew he could trust Smith. He inched backwards down the sheer face, his safe descent relying on Smith to hang on to the other end of the rope because the weather-beaten basalt was too hard to drive in belaying pins.
Evans actually felt he had the better half of the job, because soon now his progress would take him into precious shade. Smith had to bake in the cruel desert sun at the edge of the drop.
It did take skill and concentration to place his feet, choosing spots between the vertical ridges of eroded lava-rock, where the folds of this infernal theatre curtain couldn’t trap his boots. He could feel the heat through his gloves, through the thick soles of his boots. The glove was becoming threadbare from gripping the abrasive stone to keep himself from swinging, so as not to fray the rope.
If his theory was right, then at the lowest point in the chasm he would see fossils, imprints of life that thrived in magma.
And then, weightlessness and swirling fear.
Smith had theories of his own.
The Monsters of Rock play Red Rocks
The members of Metallica regretted their experimentation with Japanese radiation the minute they grew too large for their tour bus. Luckily, in their enhugened state, the walk from Los Angeles to Denver took only half an hour.
Lars Ulrich was the first to straddle the peaks of the Rocky Mountains, and he looked around in wonder. Darkness was only just beginning to creep up from the horizon, and Lars shielded his eyes from the sun’s last rays. Below him the mountains jutted, rough primeval and snow-capped. To the east, Lars caught his first glimpse of the amphitheater nestled as it was among the peaks. The ruddy, rusty stones that gave it its name looked warm and inviting, but Lars knew they were no warmer than any of the surrounding grey rocks. The parking lot was alive with tiny moving dots of many colors, but Lars could hear nothing but the rush of icy wind around his head and the occasional roar of a passing jet.
James and the others joined Lars at last and together the Monsters of Rock gazed down upon their fans, wondering where they would find instruments large enough to play.
What do you think? Who handled this prompt better?