The beginnings of a novel

I have been beginning to write a novel recently. Here is a selection of what I have come up with so far. It needs a lot more work.



Walking was the only way he could clear his head of all thoughts of her. It had only been two weeks, but with feelings so unbearable he walked. He walked and walked and walked. Feeble remnants of summer crackled under foot as his pace slowed to a shuffle and the winter wind grated against his pale skin. Twisted, skeletal trees reached outwards towards the sky, begging for warmth and the chance to once again flourish.

Tiring now, he pulled himself between the trees. The cold had made his limbs unresponsive and his legs could barely hold him any more. His heart was palpitating like a jack hammer and his eyes became heavy. He was ready for this, ready for the earth to reclaim him. He dropped to his knees and his head fell into his hands. Just as his consciousness began to leave him he felt hands through his hair; a touch so soft, so delicate, but it could not be.

Somewhere inside him he found the energy to raise his head and to such disbelief she was there. He had died, he must have; she had made up her mind that they were finished but yet now, she had returned. He traced the features of her face; eyes so deep and full of thought, a beautiful oaken brown. Her hair so long and full of volume, coiled around her shoulders like stunning black ribbons embracing her skull.

With a quivering jaw he began to speak “So-Sophia…Is tha-…Is that really y-you?”

She did not reply to his inquiry and simply turned around and began to walk away, deeper into the forest. He hauled himself up off his haunches with new found vitality and vigour and made his way after his love. Above, the wind cut through the clouds and they began to bleed glacial pearls across the landscape. Below, Sophias’ tender whispers snaked through the foliage, slithering into his ears and plaguing his mind.