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Literature Text
The panels around me let light in; bright, white light. Blinding light. I could see shadows moving in the background, but the haze behind my eyelids blocked them out, like white noise for the eyes.
The girl was floating, the fluorescents washed out any colour she had. Even her eyes seemed covered with a milky film, she looked blind; hell, maybe she was blind, I don't know.
I could hear murmurs echoing through the cloudy water surrounding me, and I pressed my palms against the glass panes that imprisoned me.
She pressed a tiny hand against the glass, and I could see the endless trails of blood carving patterns in blue just under her skin. She looked so small and lost right then, I pressed my hand against hers, watched her fingers curl suddenly as if she could feel my touch.
I felt a warmth spreading into my veins through the cold glass, and I could feel again, I felt alive. I knew then, I would do anything to keep that warmth, that simple feeling of being alive, even if it meant escape.
The dark room around her spotlighted tank came alive with sound and energy, and she moved with it. This fragile girl on the other side of 3-foot-thick glass thrummed with energy, and I could feel it through that boundary.
The noise on the other side became louder, I could hear it, and I knew it was because I moved. But the warmth moved too, and I stopped.
I took my hand away from the glass to see what was happening around me, and she instantly froze. So did the people around me, "What just happened?" I heard from across the room. Did I do that? I wondered. I touched the glass again, briefly, as I turned to answer, and out of the corner of my eye I saw her snap back into action.
The cold enveloped me again for a fraction of a second, then warmth flooded the water around me and I found I could move again. My movements were sluggish, but still, I was moving.
She brought her hands up to her face, I watched her fingers explore the intricacies of her expression, then her neck, arms and torso; a smile flickered across her features, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
I felt the feathers rimming my eyes, full lips that released the bubbles I felt sitting dew-drop-like on my hair, a small tapered chin, soft skin, long fingers and lightly muscled arms. I was small, I could tell, but I was strong, and I was glad.
This girl, facing me through the thick glass, ceased her self-discovery and began instead to spread her long fingers across the glass around her, "She's looking for a way out!" I barely registered the voice behind me, telling me to move away from the tank, slowly.
There were no breaks in the glass, no obvious weaknesses anywhere. Then I'll have to make one. My hand, as though by itself, rested perpendicular to the pane in front of me, the one the warmth came from - then smashed all the way through until I was halfway up my arm in glass.
She punched a hole in the glass, clasping at the air right in front of me as an intricate web of cracks branched from her arm all around the glass casing.
I heard whispers electrifying the water around me as the glass shattered as a whole. A new warmth ran the length of my arm and I heard screams echoing in the air around me, then one voice came to me through the chaos I had created. "You're free."
I watched the blood dripping from her arm, still raised in front of her. I stood there, amazed that she and I were dry when the room around us was drenched. That she was magnificent, there was no doubt. That I wanted her, there was less doubt. That I could ever have her, there was infinite doubt. So I stepped aside amid the chaos, watched her breathe, and said to her..."You're free."
The girl was floating, the fluorescents washed out any colour she had. Even her eyes seemed covered with a milky film, she looked blind; hell, maybe she was blind, I don't know.
I could hear murmurs echoing through the cloudy water surrounding me, and I pressed my palms against the glass panes that imprisoned me.
She pressed a tiny hand against the glass, and I could see the endless trails of blood carving patterns in blue just under her skin. She looked so small and lost right then, I pressed my hand against hers, watched her fingers curl suddenly as if she could feel my touch.
I felt a warmth spreading into my veins through the cold glass, and I could feel again, I felt alive. I knew then, I would do anything to keep that warmth, that simple feeling of being alive, even if it meant escape.
The dark room around her spotlighted tank came alive with sound and energy, and she moved with it. This fragile girl on the other side of 3-foot-thick glass thrummed with energy, and I could feel it through that boundary.
The noise on the other side became louder, I could hear it, and I knew it was because I moved. But the warmth moved too, and I stopped.
I took my hand away from the glass to see what was happening around me, and she instantly froze. So did the people around me, "What just happened?" I heard from across the room. Did I do that? I wondered. I touched the glass again, briefly, as I turned to answer, and out of the corner of my eye I saw her snap back into action.
The cold enveloped me again for a fraction of a second, then warmth flooded the water around me and I found I could move again. My movements were sluggish, but still, I was moving.
She brought her hands up to her face, I watched her fingers explore the intricacies of her expression, then her neck, arms and torso; a smile flickered across her features, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
I felt the feathers rimming my eyes, full lips that released the bubbles I felt sitting dew-drop-like on my hair, a small tapered chin, soft skin, long fingers and lightly muscled arms. I was small, I could tell, but I was strong, and I was glad.
This girl, facing me through the thick glass, ceased her self-discovery and began instead to spread her long fingers across the glass around her, "She's looking for a way out!" I barely registered the voice behind me, telling me to move away from the tank, slowly.
There were no breaks in the glass, no obvious weaknesses anywhere. Then I'll have to make one. My hand, as though by itself, rested perpendicular to the pane in front of me, the one the warmth came from - then smashed all the way through until I was halfway up my arm in glass.
She punched a hole in the glass, clasping at the air right in front of me as an intricate web of cracks branched from her arm all around the glass casing.
I heard whispers electrifying the water around me as the glass shattered as a whole. A new warmth ran the length of my arm and I heard screams echoing in the air around me, then one voice came to me through the chaos I had created. "You're free."
I watched the blood dripping from her arm, still raised in front of her. I stood there, amazed that she and I were dry when the room around us was drenched. That she was magnificent, there was no doubt. That I wanted her, there was less doubt. That I could ever have her, there was infinite doubt. So I stepped aside amid the chaos, watched her breathe, and said to her..."You're free."
Literature
Snare
& she prefered her hind leg caught in those
greedy teeth
her trapp-ed-ness : her happiness
his puncture marks & their bittersweet ooze
to hold her; to let her
in her last moments
belong to him
Literature
A glossary
I have been reading Transformers fanfics. Too much in fact, not to have ideas for original characters. But before I get to that, here is a boring explanation of terms. Borrows from Stat sheets I saw here on DA.
STATS:
Strength: Brute physical force
Intelligence: Mental Flexibility, strategy, and Acuity.
Speed: How quickly you get from A to B. Also affects/considers reaction time.
Endurance: How quickly you tire; how well you can take a hit.
Rank: How much authority you have.
Courage: How well you can take stress, whether under fire or not.
Firepower: How hard you can hit.
Skill: How experienced you are at using your armament(s).
I would add
Literature
The Headshrinkers
When Todd opened the bathroom door and found Nick lying fully clothed in the tub with his wrists competently slit, it was not an absolute shock. Like Todd, Nick had had musical aspirations, but where Todd was an extrovert with his own band, The Headshrinkers, Nick had been a regular shut-in, working and reworking his ballads just for his own satisfaction apparently. With Marlboro lights and cheap lager Todd had coaxed Nick out of his shell. ‘Teach me one of yours,’ he’d requested early on. He had even got Nick playing rhythm guitar at a Headshrinkers gig one time. Strumming throughout from behind a veil of hair it was hard t
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2010.06.08
For =the-photographicpoet's writing prompt: In A Glass Box.
The aim of the prompt was to create pieces with a Horror/Macabre theme, I'm not sure I've managed, but I tried...sort of.
I support #dALinkSystem!
Black Rose by =the-photographicpoet.
Do you think the alternating perspectives are clear enough? Should there be less alternation? Are the two sides of the story well-portrayed at much the same time?
Do the descriptions leave enough up to the reader's imagination? Should there be more/the same/less description?
If there's anything else that you notice, please don't hesitate to point it out.
For =the-photographicpoet's writing prompt: In A Glass Box.
The aim of the prompt was to create pieces with a Horror/Macabre theme, I'm not sure I've managed, but I tried...sort of.
I support #dALinkSystem!
Who'd have thought, A single red rose could fade in it's ambience Or the silver and white clouds could form Into moulds of moth wings and decay Who'd have thought The soggy grass consumes the knee-caps of the widow African singing can't relieve this pain for her now Or that of her son, her daughter, her heart Her eyes are red-raw, but the soggy grass still consumes her So many gather to sing heart-wrenching lullabies As the skies begin to cry The ground swallows the delicious mahogany Containing her King And his proud, silent body
Black Rose by =the-photographicpoet.
Do you think the alternating perspectives are clear enough? Should there be less alternation? Are the two sides of the story well-portrayed at much the same time?Do the descriptions leave enough up to the reader's imagination? Should there be more/the same/less description?If there's anything else that you notice, please don't hesitate to point it out. © 2010 - 2024 Kassi-Kamira
Comments17
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I like the way you alternate between the two perspectives - is one a baby and one her parent? - and especially the light imagery at the beginning: "like white noise for the eyes" is my favourite 