Double Feature!
Eliabeth found an image she wants to share, so this week we’re doing two images instead of one.
I urge people to join in, comment with your paragraph of fiction to accompany the image. It doesn’t have to follow my story or reflect the same themes. It can be a poem or in a different language (provide a translation please :D). Anyone who wants to join in, is welcome. This photograph will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr.
Metal clashed against metal as the blade glanced off the warrior’s armor. The battle field was stained with blood and the wind carried moans into the abyss of the deserted town. The dying were left to die with no one left to bury them. Angered by the drink it could not help but absorb, the earth decided to rebel. The fighting would end, one way or another. Just as the victorious warrior ran his blade through the wounded flesh of the other, they both turned into trees, locked together forever.
-Eliabeth Hawthorne
Image found on Facebook.
notsoarethewicked said:
The earth did not ask for this to happen.
The earth warned us that it would happen though, if we remained careless.
And now, to the satisfaction of the ‘animals,’ man becomes dust.
And the earth cries sweet tears.
Anne Schilde said:
First, Elia… It’s easy to see a battle here in the entanglement so I like that very much. “into the abyss of the deserted town” is great with the black and white photo. And of course, you petrified the battle with your last sentence!
N…wicked… I totally see one human image and one animal image in the twisted limbs so this warning is profound. I am glad earth’s tears are sweet.
terri0729 said:
I like the “earth’s tears are sweet” ending, very cool! Blessings, Terri
Ermilia said:
I love the continued theme of earth being victorious against the carelessness of mankind. Wasn’t an intentional theme when I picked the picture. Thank you for your contribution.
Anne Schilde said:
Haha, and on the night I am gone all night at a Christmas party?!
This is so weird… like I could totally see a way to add this picture into the outline I already had for the other one. Things happen for reasons, right?
Ermilia said:
Haha well you’re here now ❤
Anne Schilde said:
Now I am. Sorry it was after midnight, I didn’t even have time to read, but I did anyway. 🙂 Here is the double feature in one story: Sex on the Beach.
Ermilia said:
The title certainly has me intrigued. 🙂
Anne Schilde said:
It’s actually a sneaky double-feature of it’s own as it has a link to another story I did last December.
evilnymphstuff said:
It’s a rather short contribution this time 😛
Life was gone. The disaster had no mercy. Only dirt and soil remained and some dying trees. I watched in horror the scene that had evolved around me. I was alone. And I survived.
Anne Schilde said:
This is a very empty picture, so the loneliness is great to see here. Dirt, soil, dying trees. There really nothing else. Right?
terri0729 said:
Nicely done Daphnee! Short is not always less 🙂 Blessings, Terri
Ermilia said:
Short is fine. 🙂 I love the almost apocalyptic feeling of your piece. The black and white image does evoke a sense of death and loss. Thank you for posting here too! I was a little afraid people wouldn’t want to do two.
terri0729 said:
Okay, I went for the poem with this one! Hope you enjoy it. Blessings, Terri
mjray926 said:
I decided to give this one another go – but in poetry form. Enjoy!
The lovers dance
With every stance
A grueling pose
Their shadows mesh
Their stances fresh
Excitement grows
Lady Wind
Her voice is thin
But tinged so sweet
Dancing all night
Till azure sky
And then they’re – trees
terri0729 said:
Well done too!! Blessings, Terri
Ermilia said:
Oh, absolutely beautiful. I’m glad we have some happier contributions too. When I first saw it I was torn between battle or dancers. Your piece gives me an almost Romeo and Juliette forbidden love, only meet under the stars kinds vibe. Thank you for the contribution.
Anne Schilde said:
I definitely got entangled lovers from this image. This is a beautiful read.
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terri0729 said:
Sorry, the pingback didn’t come through earlier so I re-did it!
Ermilia said:
Thank you Terri!
Otheus said:
As they held hands.
And started to dance.
The fury of the sky
Changed them and my
I must say, that fury
Can change people
Any day.
– Otheus
Ermilia said:
Interesting to have Fury as the acting force. Very Greek. Thanks Otheus!
Jacqui said:
Beautiful photo! Loved it!
-Jacqui
Ermilia said:
It was a lucky find and perfect timing with Ermisenda gone and unable to moderate her board.
Tincup said:
Seeds of civilization
Sprouted long ago
From darkness into the light
So much promise filled the air
Time began and the clock ticked
Storm upon storm unleashed power
So many twists and turns
But always reaching for the light
But time and progress were unreal
Infinity goes both directions
Forward is backward and backward is forward
Up is down and down is up
Man never understood this truth
Instead of growing wide and far
He pushed with all his might in one direction
Colliding and collapsing onto himself
Ermilia said:
Thank you for contributing, I especially liked the lines “But time and progress were unreal – Infinity goes both directions – Forward is backward and backward is forward –
Up is down and down is up.”
Tincup said:
The short story you wrote was wonderful. Can you see the one frozen warrior with his sword/arm extended back ready to make the killer blow?
Ermilia said:
Absolutely. In some respects they look like bar fighters, the one with his arm pulled back grabbing the other by the shirt to hold him in place. You guys are starting to get me to like poetry. 😀
Anne Schilde said:
I like the way your words twist and turn in the third stanza the way the sprouts twisted and turned reaching for the light.
Tincup said:
glad you liked it princess…i love those twisted trees on the California coast…warped by the pounding winds or their own genetic structures…so beautiful against the backdrop of the rocky coast and blue ocean.
Anne Schilde said:
I used to go out to a beach up on the north side of the bay and climb up in one of those gnarly trees with a book. There as a little nook in the branches where I could sit comfortably and read, sheltered from the wind, but with the sun shining through.
Ermilia said:
I always wanted to do that, but I was afraid of heights, so I was more concerned with clinging to the tree than the story I was wanting to read. I ended up sitting under them instead.
Anne Schilde said:
These trees are twisted gnarly things. The wind bends them over if they get too tall so they grow sideways. This one had a nice hollow about 5 feet off the ground, worn smooth from years of people sitting there.
I have a story with a girl reading under a tree if you’re interested.
Ermilia said:
Maybe after we launch? Any reading I’m doing at the moment is to review for the blog or for work. I love your writing, but unless it’s short I want time to enjoy it.
Tincup said:
I’d rather do something else under one of those trees…LOL…guess what is on my brain?
Ermilia said:
Tisk tisk dirty mind! 😀
Aurora, HSP said:
Nice work, all 🙂
kvennarad said:
Suddenly everyone’s doing poetry! 😀
M
Tincup said:
LOL…I like to steal your term…fragments. Writing a story is more difficult.
kvennarad said:
Are you trying to tell me writing my ‘fragments’ is easy? 😉
Tincup said:
Nope…your fragments are complex…I was poking fun at myself…I love the word fragment to describe my attempts at poetry…much like my life…fragments of actually truly living 😉
kvennarad said:
Iona
The worst storm in ten years hit Traigh Ban nam Monach. Afterwards, there upon the marred and littered sand, were two skeleton trees, stark as sin and twice as wild. Against the sea they were white; against the sky they were the grey of ire, thwarted by being ripped twice from its context – once where it danced in the gale and once where it spun in the sea – and placed where it could not move, that storm-coloured ire. I felt my feet as stone; I looked and fear pierced my stomach, but I couldn’t look away. It took the courage of a queen and the skill of a witch to drag me loose. I ran, and did not stop until I could fling my arms around MacLean’s Cross and whisper, “Sanctus… sanctus…”
M
Ermilia said:
It gave me chills! Nature can be a devastating force sometimes.
Aurora, HSP said:
With Ermilia, M, you wrote this sharply all the way home 🙂
Anne Schilde said:
The courage of a queen and the skill of a witch dragged me from an image as stark as sin and twice as wild. 🙂
I had to take a little Google tour of the traigh so thanks for that too.
Aurora, HSP said:
Alien arms enveloped me, nearly choking my spirit dead with emotions I would rather not taste. In time, the fragrance grew familiar. In time the pure volume rose. I discovered your heart buried deep in your fast clinging roots. Your far reaching arms stretching to welcome in my soul, your warmth a most fine and unexpected comfort. A tiny rupture of unknown blood and the future ours, unfolding before us… in spite of my reservations, all tables in my heart sullied by patronage less generous, less patient, less kind. Even the deadest of forests sprout green anew before our eyes. It was those limbs I clung to, those boughs I swung from. In the ethereal expanse of space between branches where travels tears returning as the ineffable, love always waits.
Ermilia said:
Oh what a fascinating twist. I loved the “emotions I would rather not taste” especially because I’ve experienced emotions that give a bad taste in my mouth. The last line is beautiful. ❤ Ty Aurora.
Anne Schilde said:
I really like this.
Aurora, HSP said:
My pleasure Ermilia and Anne, reblogging on my own page today (aren’t I lazy, lol)
Anne Schilde said:
It’s that time of year. You’re allowed!
Ermilia said:
I agree with Anne, totally acceptable during the chaos.
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Pingback: A Race of Arms (Picture it & write #7) « The Only Joe
theonlyjoe said:
A Race of Arms
Scrambling,
Searching,
Blindly reaching
For handle of door
To let moon’s light spill on the floor,
To dodge fateful glance of them
Who stand on the other side.
To break bonds written upon page’s undying face.
Fine print draws fine lines between our race.
Human fear and anger replace
The peace we searched for,
So instead we march forward,
Race onward,
Hand in hand,
Bound in silence, in violence,
The grimmest band one could meet.
Our Race of Arms.
Trampling one another beneath our feet.
Ermilia said:
I felt myself reading faster as it built. My favorite line was “To break bonds written upon page’s undying face.-Fine print draws fine lines between our race.” Thanks for contributing Joe.
Anne Schilde said:
I agree. I also like the way the meat was in the middle like the pounding of your feet in a marathon and the beginning and end were nothing more and nothing less with a finish line of being trampled by the running feet.