I am already so hungry that it seems to me my hunger has eaten the colour vision from my mind. I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them, the whole world around was black and white. Not that there is anything attractive to be seen in colours. Bare rock, a solitary fir tree emerging from a crack in the rock, some shrubs… And more rocks. Wherever I turn my eyes, I see rocks. With cracks where something grows. How come only prickly things grow in these cracks? Why not soft fern to pick and make into a mattress? Why firs? The rock is too hard already, no need for more. The sky is also black and white. Predominantly white, of course, with a cloud or two here and there. Yet, something is weird in this black and white picture. I feel as if everything shines with intense brightness and I have to close my eyes for a while. Then I lost my balance and swung slightly from side to side. “That must be me starving”, I think. Hoping to restore both my balance and my colour vision, I make an effort to open my eyes. I believe I manage. My head grows heavy all of a sudden and it hurts like hell. “Could’ve brought some aspirin, too”, I think, “in addition to food.” Still, I am able to see. Colour has not come back, though. Neither has balance so I slump down like a bag. There is no pain. I am sure the rock is not smooth at all. Yet, it isn’t hard either. It simply is. So, I begin to crawl towards the edge of the rock, past the fir tree. I want to see what is beyond. The brightness of the sky maddens me. I think I can see metal blades flash here and there moving in the ruthless sun. Nothing moves in the scene. Then I bump against something. I press my hand in the air at my eyes’ level and there is something there. Only, I can’t see it. Perhaps hunger has eaten more from my mind, and I can’t remember what, because it has been eaten off. That idea is scary. Looking into the large crack just beneath my nose I see a glittering speck. “What is it?” my mind trembles with lame excitement. The crack is wide enough for my arm, so I push it inside without fear of the unknown darkness below. My fingers touch something smooth, feels glossy. Will I be able to grab at the thing and bring it back to the surface, or just like in a cheap movie I’ll be fighting to get to it? The crack is spacious and I push deeper, until I feel the glossy thing reach my palm. Then I grasp. And pull up. That is a colourful piece of foil, the empty wrap of a tasty, nourishing waffle. I can still see the chocolate dots on the silver inside. My empty stomach howls in despair. Would a wolf eat that? I am musing. Perhaps it will. Wait a minute! I stop and look at the foil wrap again. Now, wait a minute! It is colourful. So, I have my colour vision alright. I look around. Everything is still black and white. Then some movement attracts my eyes. Just beyond the rock edge, where I bumped into the invisible something, there was some movement. I thrust myself in that direction. That is not exactly a fast move, because I have no power left in me. But, somehow, I reach the invisible wall and press my face against it. Now I begin to see more clearly. I can see a large hall on the other side, merging with the bare rocks and the brightness of the black-and-white sky. In that hall, there are people walking in twos, or in threes, children hopping from show-case to show-case. A small face presses against the partition, just opposite mine. We look at each other without breathing. I don’t know whose surprise is greater. I hit my fist against the window case and say with a fierce grimace and bare teeth: “Bring the food, or I’ll come out and eat you, child!”
Really impressed with this one, Mariya. I hadn't anticipated sci-fi/fantasy with your writing before. I LIKE it!
This was a great little story, done as it was in stream of consciousness like this. Good job. I hadn't thought of anything quite so... different. That's what's so great.
Don't Know it I can post - but I'll try.... Not even sure what is expected, this is what I came up with.
She sat looking at the photo, wishing that it were clearer. Wanting to reclaim the image as it had once been. She was the only one who knew when and where it had been taken, but she remembered. The day implanted in her. The photo was sun faded. It had hung on the wall for years as the afternoon sun gradually sucked the image and the heart from the paper. Later, put away in a trunk, it lay dormant like so many other memories. One small corner was missing and there was a dark stain along the bottom edge. The writing on the back was faded, hard to read. The words were not faded in her mind. She closed her eyes and whispered the words written so many years ago. They were said and later written in good faith, in love, in youth. That they had faded was not the fault of the sun. Faith hung on, for a time. Gradually the love receded and youth became adults, but the seed of the tree laid buried in her. The tree was still young in the photo, as they had been. A youthful tree whose bark easily yielded to the knife that drew the heart, and carved the initials. The tree grew to enfold the heart by new growth and hide it from wandering eyes. A heart buried away from the wind and storms that assailed life on the hilltop. A heart buried away from the hand that had brought it to life then left it to fade. The life of the tree had been gone for several years. It had finally yielded to the storms and the force of the wind around it. It gave first its weathered branches then as the rock and gravel shifted at its base it seemed to loose its footing. It twisted then slowly release it hold on earth. The tree toppled and splintered the hidden heart. The tree lay there, providing shelter for ground critters that scurried across the hilltop and provided nooks where-in hidden seeds could take root. The tree decayed, gave nourishment to the young seedlings and the shattered heart opened to the seedling’s roots and gave back life to youth.
Beautifully done, Marjory. I don't think you need worry about "getting it." You got it just fine. Loved this piece. It's quiet review of a life in reflection was the box inside the box inside the tree, and the tree was all there was to all of creation that came after.
I've plucked from a story that others wanted expanded. This prompt was perfect for it and I seized it ruthlessly. Okay, maybe ruthless isn't exactly the right term, but I had a pretty good grasp on it. Here goes nothing. Enjoy.
I posted my story on: http://2voices1song.com/2012/09/17/flashy-fiction-strikes-again/
Right, here it is :-)
ReplyDelete*** Hungry ***
I am already so hungry that it seems to me my hunger has eaten the colour vision from my mind. I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them, the whole world around was black and white. Not that there is anything attractive to be seen in colours. Bare rock, a solitary fir tree emerging from a crack in the rock, some shrubs… And more rocks.
Wherever I turn my eyes, I see rocks. With cracks where something grows. How come only prickly things grow in these cracks? Why not soft fern to pick and make into a mattress? Why firs? The rock is too hard already, no need for more.
The sky is also black and white. Predominantly white, of course, with a cloud or two here and there. Yet, something is weird in this black and white picture. I feel as if everything shines with intense brightness and I have to close my eyes for a while. Then I lost my balance and swung slightly from side to side. “That must be me starving”, I think. Hoping to restore both my balance and my colour vision, I make an effort to open my eyes.
I believe I manage. My head grows heavy all of a sudden and it hurts like hell. “Could’ve brought some aspirin, too”, I think, “in addition to food.” Still, I am able to see. Colour has not come back, though. Neither has balance so I slump down like a bag. There is no pain. I am sure the rock is not smooth at all. Yet, it isn’t hard either. It simply is. So, I begin to crawl towards the edge of the rock, past the fir tree. I want to see what is beyond.
The brightness of the sky maddens me. I think I can see metal blades flash here and there moving in the ruthless sun. Nothing moves in the scene. Then I bump against something. I press my hand in the air at my eyes’ level and there is something there. Only, I can’t see it. Perhaps hunger has eaten more from my mind, and I can’t remember what, because it has been eaten off. That idea is scary. Looking into the large crack just beneath my nose I see a glittering speck. “What is it?” my mind trembles with lame excitement. The crack is wide enough for my arm, so I push it inside without fear of the unknown darkness below.
My fingers touch something smooth, feels glossy. Will I be able to grab at the thing and bring it back to the surface, or just like in a cheap movie I’ll be fighting to get to it? The crack is spacious and I push deeper, until I feel the glossy thing reach my palm. Then I grasp. And pull up.
That is a colourful piece of foil, the empty wrap of a tasty, nourishing waffle. I can still see the chocolate dots on the silver inside. My empty stomach howls in despair. Would a wolf eat that? I am musing. Perhaps it will.
Wait a minute! I stop and look at the foil wrap again. Now, wait a minute! It is colourful. So, I have my colour vision alright. I look around. Everything is still black and white. Then some movement attracts my eyes. Just beyond the rock edge, where I bumped into the invisible something, there was some movement. I thrust myself in that direction. That is not exactly a fast move, because I have no power left in me. But, somehow, I reach the invisible wall and press my face against it.
Now I begin to see more clearly. I can see a large hall on the other side, merging with the bare rocks and the brightness of the black-and-white sky. In that hall, there are people walking in twos, or in threes, children hopping from show-case to show-case. A small face presses against the partition, just opposite mine. We look at each other without breathing. I don’t know whose surprise is greater.
I hit my fist against the window case and say with a fierce grimace and bare teeth: “Bring the food, or I’ll come out and eat you, child!”
© 2012 Mariya Koleva
Thank you, Mariya, I really appreciate you writing to my prompt today!!
DeleteYour contrast of black and gray to the colorful foil and the twist in the end...Excellent writing!
Really impressed with this one, Mariya. I hadn't anticipated sci-fi/fantasy with your writing before. I LIKE it!
DeleteThis was a great little story, done as it was in stream of consciousness like this. Good job. I hadn't thought of anything quite so... different. That's what's so great.
Thanks so much for sharing this.
ReplyDeleteOn a less than fictional note...you can find mine here:
http://wordrustling.wordpress.com/2012/09/14/inside-out-and-upside-down/
Don't Know it I can post - but I'll try....
ReplyDeleteNot even sure what is expected, this is what I came up with.
She sat looking at the photo, wishing that it were clearer. Wanting to reclaim the image as it had once been. She was the only one who knew when and where it had been taken, but she remembered. The day implanted in her.
The photo was sun faded. It had hung on the wall for years as the afternoon sun gradually sucked the image and the heart from the paper. Later, put away in a trunk, it lay dormant like so many other memories. One small corner was missing and there was a dark stain along the bottom edge. The writing on the back was faded, hard to read. The words were not faded in her mind. She closed her eyes and whispered the words written so many years ago.
They were said and later written in good faith, in love, in youth. That they had faded was not the fault of the sun. Faith hung on, for a time. Gradually the love receded and youth became adults, but the seed of the tree laid buried in her.
The tree was still young in the photo, as they had been. A youthful tree whose bark easily yielded to the knife that drew the heart, and carved the initials. The tree grew to enfold the heart by new growth and hide it from wandering eyes. A heart buried away from the wind and storms that assailed life on the hilltop. A heart buried away from the hand that had brought it to life then left it to fade.
The life of the tree had been gone for several years. It had finally yielded to the storms and the force of the wind around it. It gave first its weathered branches then as the rock and gravel shifted at its base it seemed to loose its footing. It twisted then slowly release it hold on earth. The tree toppled and splintered the hidden heart.
The tree lay there, providing shelter for ground critters that scurried across the hilltop and provided nooks where-in hidden seeds could take root. The tree decayed, gave nourishment to the young seedlings and the shattered heart opened to the seedling’s roots and gave back life to youth.
by Marjory M Thompson
Beautifully done, Marjory. I don't think you need worry about "getting it." You got it just fine. Loved this piece. It's quiet review of a life in reflection was the box inside the box inside the tree, and the tree was all there was to all of creation that came after.
DeleteLovely. Great job.
Thank You Clauds - It was sorta interesting to watch the story evolve! I am hoping to see more stories here on this site. MMT
ReplyDeleteGood for you, Marjory. You do seem to have a good story to tell. You might as well go with the flow.
ReplyDeleteI've plucked from a story that others wanted expanded. This prompt was perfect for it and I seized it ruthlessly. Okay, maybe ruthless isn't exactly the right term, but I had a pretty good grasp on it. Here goes nothing. Enjoy.
ReplyDeleteI posted my story on:
http://2voices1song.com/2012/09/17/flashy-fiction-strikes-again/