Thursday, June 16, 2011

Painting Stories #4

What I got:

She lay there-- amid the browning leaves and the sweet scent of morning as it came. Another morning isolated from normalcy, another day in Changeling Fields.

Photo courtesy of this place.


Elaine Lowe said...

Love your interpretation!


Selene wondered why destruction could look so beautiful. The comet was coming to blast her home into nothingness. There was no way to escape, nowhere to hide. The trees might shield her from view, but they would do nothing but fall in the coming shockwave. All that was left was to raise her face to the heavens and wait from the howling whisper of destruction.

Can you tell I'm in a bad mood?

Heather said...

Oooo that gave me chills. Love it!

TS Tate said...

Awesome, C. Love that!! Thanks for comment, Heather. :)

Saba said...

I hope the length is not too long!
THEY came to our world without warning or invitation. In a single bright flash, they changed our very existence. We once ruled the forest, holding it together with our gripping roots; our strong, ever-reaching branches and thick leaves protected all who sought refuge from the burning rays of light. We were alive. We guarded and protected for as far and wide as the eye could see. Then THEY came, consuming every goodness we had to offer, even those we tried to hide. When THEY were done and could not take anything else from us, they left. In a single bright flash, they were gone leaving us to take our last breath. But even in death, we still stand, to watch over the memories of our magnificent past.

TS Tate said...

That's so cool! Very intriguing. You should keep it up!

Elaine Lowe said...

Saba, that was awesome!

Jana said...

Oh for wings to rise up to meet the sun where it lives, unfettered, above the world, glorious and pure.

Brian H said...

On the day the world ended, the early morning sunrise sliced through the mist of the forest, a moment of unquestionable beauty that revealed no clue to the horror that was now only hours away.

TS Tate said...

Jana...Brian...both beautiful and intriguing. Please write more! Y'all rock!

Bryan said...

Lea worked at the picture for days, staining her thin, brittle fingers with charcoal and pigments, drawing a burst of sunlight through tall, gaunt trees. When she had finished, she gathered her three grandsons to her and set the image before them. "This is what the first forest saw," she told them, "on the very first morning, when the world was young and the sun was newly born."
"That's not true," said the first of them. "Everyone knows that trees can't talk."
And so Lea gave him a sweet and sent him away, for he knew the value of what all men know.
"It's impossible," said the second grandson. "How could there be trees with no sun to feed them?"
And so Lea gave him a bright gold coin and sent him on his way, for he knew the value of knowing how the world worked.
The third grandson was silent. "What do you say, poppet? Do you believe my picture?" He shook his head, a hesitant, shy movement. "Why not?"
He traced a finger across the paper, following the trunk of a tree as it stretched up from the ground and into the sky. "Because, Grandmother. This is how I see the sun, through the trees. This is not how the trees would see the sun, standing so tall."
And so Lea made the third of her grandchildren her apprentice, and taught him all her dread and wondrous magics, because he knew what the others did not. He knew how to see.

Jan Rider Newman said...

The flare burned a hole in midnight, and trees stood like sketches of themselves. Joran stopped running, panted, and sank to his knees.

TS Tate said...

Oh,B please, please continue this story. I want to know more!! Jan, I love yours as intriguing, like being put right in the center of the action. I would love to read more!!