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Descent GDST 2019 Creative Writing Prize Winner Madeline Williams This piece was written for the 2019 competition which had ‘fearlessness’ for its title. Madeline won £100 first prize for her entry.
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umbling, his mind dizzy and foaming through the constellations that expanded before his eyes, counting off the ancient kingdoms in his headAndromeda, Lyra, Orion... Lunacy froze his mind, berated and defeated, spreading like a ground frost, mighty as that acerbic power of the universe that he once admired. The bleak navy unfathomable space, like sleep or the borders of imagination, interrupted only by tangerine and fuscia ethereal explosions of guiding starlight. How beautiful it would be to fall through the heavens to his death? Fools craved immortality, pleaded and begged for it, little did they realise its curse- the ability to endure an eternity of suffering and disgrace. The air whirred past his head, through his downy wings at the increasing cadence of a lamenting aria. It would be as he feared, he was going to join those creatures that lurked below, long forgotten except in the darkest
“ Fools craved immortality, pleadedandbeggedforit,little did they realise its curse - the ability to ensure an eternity of suffering and disgrace.
dreams, who followed in pursuit of Satan- the first to fall, the author of strife. As an angel, a Virtue in pursuit of enlightenment to offer the celestial majesty. Once heralded for his wisdom, he had been too outspoken on the sufferings that served as punishment to all the creatures in the universe, a ruler that reigned through fear like a tyrant emperor not a god. Now condemned for his blasphemy, he would join the first angels who fell eternities ago. Was he to be a slave of Azazel, or a servant of Satan in his own right? Each pitiful breath, in and out, an attempt to calm himself for the penance waiting.
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eightless, he crashed like a breath of wind. Electric pale thunderbolts and frozen rain blessed his waxy scales. Close to the ground, he inhaled the dirt beneath him, and in his temporary blindness he recognised the unique petrichor and in the darkness it bought him comfort. He felt the soggy moss seep between the cracks and chasms in his narrow feet and toes which felt like lead.
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is frail eyes brightened as he absorbed his surroundings: an exposed clifftop heath where the stark marigold broom clung tightly to the earth despite the ardent breeze whipped off the sea, which rushes through the creeks in its blossom. A plant spineless and softer than
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