Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Art is the Message

Can words convey the message of a piece of art? This is my attempt

A large square room. Total emptiness.
Black walls; black floor; black ceiling.
The room is bright, but no light source is to be seen, as if the air itself is glowing.
I cannot see where one wall starts and the other ends, where the floor or the ceiling end.
Shadowless black.
A white cross in the middle. 
I approach it, and stands at its center.

A small window opens in the ceiling, straight over my head.
Enough to show me the grayness of the clouds.
Never before did I notice the full rainbow of grays that blend into each other.
Then, a small patch of blue
And a ray of yellow.

The window above my head shuts.
Blackness again.
Blackness without beginning or end.
The light dims.
Too gradual to notice the change.
But I can see my feet no longer.
Nor my hands.


Thursday, December 15, 2011

Snow White confronts the queen to discuss her attempted murder

“No,” bellowed Snow White. “Killing me is not the proper way to resolve our differences. I'd expect from a queen your age to act more maturely."

“Well, maturity is not what made me a queen. Being a queen is all about effectiveness. It's about time you should learn it, young princess.”

“But you failed. What does it say about you?”

The two remained quite, until Snow White could stand the uncomfortable silence no longer.

“I'm going to tell Dad,” she said eventually.

“And this you consider mature? Lets solve it, the two of us, here and now, once and for all. No fathers, no dwarfs.”

“And no mirrors,” added Snow White, making a threatening step toward the mirror.

“No, not my mirror. Leave my mirror alone,” cried the queen. But she was late. Without a hint of mercy in her heart, Snow White lifted a club from an empty armor in the corner, and with a large swing of her body, she smashed the mirror she hated so much.

“Help me,” cried the mirror, as it's shards blasted through the air and scattered on the floor, where they stayed until the cleaner swept them away.

The End

Sunday, October 16, 2011

BC's two paragraph challenge

She had gone weeks without a shower, knowing that only by her smell will he, with hollow eyes, find her. She locked the the door behind her, dropped the curtains to hide the full moon and waited – just as he had instructed.

A scream from the neighbor next door. He must be there already. A bottle of ketchup banged through the window. Shuttered glass flying. She was lucky, not so her cat, hit by a shrapnel. Just as he had told her would happen. Naked she stood under the cat, with the ancient book in her hand, showering in its trickling blood. Tonight she will be married.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

The Funeral

“I was preparing your twenty first birthday,” she started, her voice faint, yet barely quivering. “You were always brave, Josh. The only thing you feared was that people would find out how sensitive you really were ... But this is what I love about you, Josh. You don’t have to be ashamed. I adored it when you read your poems to me. You inspired me. Now I want to read to you my very first poem: 

The first clod of earth drops.
Soon, only memories remain.
The hole in the ground is filling.
But not in my heart
That will remain open

Sarah paused, her eyes landed on us, his team, and I realized that for those who did not know her, she would seem expressionless. But I could see how painfully she was biting her top lip and I wished that she, her words, and the entire ceremony would be over. I wished that I would be over. I wished that I would be anywhere but here.

Sarah stepped down. She did not stop. As she wandered away, a feeling of relief washed through my body: inappropriate lightness, unlike anything I had felt for weeks. I would not need to speak to her after all. I would not need to tell her my story.