Tag Archives: #writephoto

Vista #writephoto

vista

Photo by Sue Vincent

Looking down, all I can see are the chalk lines of my life.  There is a path of memory behind, and I can make out that there might be a path cut into the Earth ahead, but what does it mean?  An ant on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel will have more idea of the design than I.

But then, perhaps, I am more like Michelangelo, flat on his back, quickly applying the pigment to the chalk-white plaster as it dries all too quick.  Each stroke of the brush took into account all of the others, even if they were impossible to see.

But then, he knew where he was going, didn’t he?  Do I?

Perhaps it isn’t important to see this chalk drawing of life in its entirety.  Perhaps it is better to look out and search for the distant sea.  Perhaps it is best to understand the setting.  Perhaps it is better to drink in the fragrant summer air and enjoy the view.

Perhaps it is about the vista, not the ground below my feet.

Perhaps I need to look up, not down.

Perhaps.

***

Written for Sue Vincent’s writephoto challenge.  The photo at the top is her photo-prompt.  She also provided the key word “Vista”.

Dream #writephoto

dream

Photo by Sue Vincent

I walk down the lavender path
Under rose petal skies
Scents of lilac and cinnamon
Permeate the clear ether
Each step in the heather
A
nd the heath
Peels away a century

Each step reawakens a memory
Present and past collide with…

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“You asked me about my dream, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but this sounds like an acid trip turned to song. “Picture yourself in a boat” and all…”

“Well, perhaps an acid trip is a type of waking dream.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, the dream is simple.  Everything is vibrating, from the quarks and leptons to galaxy clusters.  We all have our own frequency with our own harmonic spectrum above it.  Sometimes we find ourselves in harmony with someone else.  Love. Or something else. Belonging. Or sometime else…”

“I was right, an acid trip.”

“A dream. And I found my harmony as I walked down the lavender path under the rose petal skies.  The scents of lilac and cinnamon permeated the clear ether.  Each step…”

“Oh, never mind.”

***

This was written for Sue Vincent’s writephoto challenge.  The photo at the top was taken and provided by Sue, as was the key word, “Dream“.

Secret #writephoto

secret

Photo by Sue Vincent

“I have tried to understand…” There were tears at the edge of his eyes.

She kept her face as impassive as possible, still as stone.  “Have you?”  She crossed her arms.

“If you ask, perhaps not.  My failing.  I just thought… I felt… You…” His head dropped; he broke the eye contact.

“I assume you are moving on then?”

He raised his glaze, locked his eyes on hers once again.

“That seems to be your wish.”

She nodded once.

He shook his head.  “If only you would show some emotion, anything; anger, sadness, joy that I’m leaving; anything.”

She just stared, her face as emotionless as the door.

“Fine.  Goodbye.”  He turned, looked at the door for a second, and then left.

It was a relief when door closed.  He was close to discovering her secret.

She had long ago closed her heart, locked it up and threw away the key.  He thought that he could reach her, find her, but the days for that were over long ago, when…

She regained her composure, her secret safe once again. She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

Dinner out was in order.

She checked that thought and smiled.

Dinner out alone was in order.

***

This was written for Sue Vincent’s writephoto challenge.  The photo at the top is Sue’s and she also provided the key word “Secret”.

Painted #writephoto

painted

Photo by Sue Vincent

“He’s down here, sitting in the garden.”

We walked around a corner and I saw the old man sitting, just staring across the small lily pond, not noticing our arrival at all.

He glanced up at us as we came to his side, but returned his attention to his gardens and the water.

We waited, letting him take his time, though I felt a little chilled, just standing there.  It was partially cloudy and a bit windy.

I must have made some noise as I shifted my weight to my other foot, for he turned towards me and smiled knowingly.

“Young man,” he said, “what are you seeing?”

“A beautiful garden.  A pond.  A bridge.” I shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable under his gaze. “Yes, it is peaceful.  So static…” Continue reading

Dance #writephoto

dance

Photo by Sue Vincent

“Awake or asleep?”

Ed was sure that he was awake, that he had gone out exploring on his own, but the world was unearthly, much more like his dreams.

He thought about the journey that he had been on each night, through the pillars and then trees, down to the sea.  Where was he going?  And was he following a similar path while walking in the sunshine?

He shivered.

Not that there was much sunshine.

The feeble home-star was attempting to cut through the thick fog in vain, hanging like a ghost in the sky.  The world had been erased in grey, except for green path forward.

“It isn’t possible,” Ed mumbled to himself.  “I know I’m awake, or at least I think I am, yet this is so like my nightly journey.” Continue reading

Causeway #writephoto

causeway

Photo by Sue Vincent

Water, water as far as the eye could see.

“So, this is it?” I asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Tej said.  He pointed out into the water.  “Look, though, you can see the path is still there.”

I had seen it, of course, but it didn’t help our cause.

The trail continued into the sea for a very short distance on a narrow point of land.  As it went out, the soil was washed away leaving bare rock.  And finally, the rock was gone leaving just water.

I shook my head.  “That’s it.  Fine.  Let’s make camp on higher ground.  We’ll look around tomorrow, but I’m afraid we’ll have to return empty handed.”

I followed Tej, our best tracker, away from the water’s edge.  He would find us the perfect place to spend the night.  He always did.  He had a feel for the land and a knack for discovering its secrets. Continue reading

Cascade #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

“We have come to an impasse.  As you are well aware, the farther we move from the shore and into the mountains, the more often we have come across small falls, rapids or other discontinuities.  We have found a way to overcome all, until now.  A cascade which, though small, is surrounded by sheer cliffs, now stands between us and our goal.  It is impossible to portage our craft and provisions around this wild water and no clear trail can be found.

“We are now setting up a small fort, where we plan to winter. Come Spring, we will either find an alternative route or call off our quest.

“At this time, all forward motion has come to an end.”

Reg read the note from his forward captain, Dwight Pashey, three times over.

This could be a disaster to the mission.

He glanced down at the note again. Continue reading

The Eve of Destruction #writephoto

imbolc-fox-weekend-130 - eve

Photo by Sue Vincent

Hal scanned the items Toby had brought in.

“No, no, these won’t do at all.  I gave you very specific instructions.  Please try again.”

“Yes, sir,” Toby said.

Hal shook his head.  The spare parts were becoming scarce, harder and harder to find.  Someday there would be nothing left to scavenge.  Worse, nobody wanted to learn the ancient craft.  Toby was his twelfth apprentice in 22 years.  All of them before had left for more lucrative positions.

And each and every one was better on their worst days than that idiot Toby was on his best day.

Hal sighed.

Did it even matter? Continue reading

Bells #writephoto

blue-bells

Photo by Sue Vincent

A purple haze gave the forest a magical quality, something unearthly that Mike couldn’t quite put his finger on.  With a Jimi Hendrix song playing through his brain, he realized that the haze was really a carpet of flowers.  Bluebells.

One of them rang out.

Mike startled awake.  Early morning light streamed through the window, making his mind jump to a fictional Lauds, with the hidden bells of make-believe monastery calling all to prayer.

It came again.  Not the typical Lauds nor the typical bells.

It was the tolling of the coughs.

Mike’s neighbor, Brad, was out front with his dog, Mitzie.  Brad didn’t look so good. Continue reading

Memory #writephoto

memory

Photo by Sue Vincent

Did I hear the wind whisper
Your name
As it sighed between trees and standing stone?
Did I see
Your shadow cross a threshold
Long buried beneath the empty, grassy plain?
Did I sniff the fragrance
Of your food
Wafted off of a hearth long turned to dust?
Do I taste the salt
Of your bitter tears
Shed for a people long forgotten?
I listen to the rock
Feel the breeze
Sniff the distant salty sea air
Sense your people near
Perhaps forgotten by men
But the land
The land has a very long memory Continue reading