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500 X 212 Gray

 
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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Sat Jun 08, 2013 4:19 am    Post subject: 500 X 212 Gray Reply with quote



I found this in the surreal art part of photobucket. The artist is Stephen Nix. I look forward to seeing what you come up with. Have fun. God bless,
shadowlight

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Harry
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 09, 2013 5:41 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Fading of the Light

Harry Buschman


He didn't walk with a firm footstep any more. Instead, he lurched a bit from side to side in a sort of stiff legged stride bumping into things along the way. He looked about him curiously, as though he wondered why he was where he was.

He didn't see as well as he did, Things in the center of his vision were curiously out-of-focus, and in the night bright pin-points of light sparkled like miniature explosions in his eyes. He looked in vain for things he misplaced only to have them turn up in strange places – he'd wonder how they got there without him.

He knew he was getting old, short-tempered and cranky. His friends were fewer and fewer and those he bumped into in the old neighborhood seemed worse off than he. Some times he would help them cross the street only to find they had reached the other side in better shape than he. He raged against the fading of the light. He wouldn't accept it. There were thoughts inside him, ideas unspoken, anxious to be said, and furious that no one paused to listen to him. He'd find a quiet place to sit and try to understand what had happened to him and wonder what would happen to them.

He was growing very old. He could hold his hand up to the light and see through them ... his mortality was a constant companion. But, there were times a burning spark of pure inspiration seared his breast ... it smoldered there ... sputtered like a dying candle. He couldn't watch it gutter out and die. He wanted the world to see what an old man could do.

... and they found him that way, his right hand clenched and raised to the sky.
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ShanthiDragon
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 09, 2013 6:38 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hi everyone! Marlicia/Shadowlight invited me to try my hand here as I've had some trouble writing lately. I hope the following isn't too loosely connected to the prompt!

Untitled

Emily Kinsman 6/9/13

Gray.

Gray was the color of the cloud-like wool that slipped rhythmically through Corinne's soft, smooth hands as her feet treadled the spinning wheel before her. The wheel whirred almost silently, issuing only a quiet creek every few seconds. Justin, watching her, found himself drifting off, sinking deeper into the overstuffed chair he'd flopped into several minutes before.

“There's a couch over there. Why don't you lay down?” she said. Justin was startled awake, though Corinne's voice was as soft and gentle as the motions she used to guide the wool. She smiled. “You look tired.”

He sat up straighter, determined to enjoy this short time with her. “Sorry. Got in late last night. The game went to overtime; then a shootout.”

She nodded, “A very long shootout from what I understand.”

“Fifteen rounds! You know it's gone long when *I* get a chance to shoot.” His deep, rumbling chuckle seemed to clash with the bright skeins of yarn all around them and the feminine décor of the shop.

The shop's owner glanced over from her place behind the register but her look was not one of disapproval. Rather, she seemed to be sizing him up. She didn't hold his attention for long, however.

Corinne had paused in her spinning, one corner of her mouth curving into a half-smile. “That was a nice shot. Beautiful toe-drag. Great job! The Rebels needed that win.”

Justin's mouth fell open. All this time, he'd thought there was nothing but southern sweetness and fantastic swirling plot lines full of castles and dark intrigue behind those gray eyes of hers. Yet, she obviously knew something about hockey and – his heart skipped a beat – she'd obviously watched him play last night. “You... you watched?”

She shrugged, continuing her rhythmic treadling as she drew the wool out to a thin length and allowed it to twist into a fine single ply of yarn. “You made it all sound so exciting the other day. They finally came out to hook up my cable, so I decided to check it out.” The corners of her eyes crinkled slightly with amusement. “Most of the play-by-play sounded like a foreign language, honestly, but that's what the commentators said about your winning goal: 'Nice toe-drag!' Did I manage to impress you?”

“You impressed me the first time I saw you,” he said, startled and surprised when the new-spun yarn broke in her hands and she had to fiddle with the spinning wheel for a few moments before starting up again.

When her treadling had returned to its normal rhythm, she said, “There's nothing impressive about me. But I'd love to hear more about hockey. Why don't you tell me the basics while I work?”

The basics? Justin had been playing for so long, he wasn't sure what the basics were anymore. Hockey was hockey. Hockey was his life. It was the air he breathed, the first thing he thought about when he woke up, and the last thing he pondered as he drifted to sleep.

Recently, however his thoughts had strayed more and more to this quiet, auburn-haired southern girl who was attempting to mend his moth-eaten lucky hat. It was his prized possession. His grandmother, God rest her soul, had knit it for him more than 10 years ago with her own handspun yarn, and he wasn't about to let it out of his sight, even for a minute. Even with Corinne.
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Harry
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 10, 2013 5:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Welcome to the Voice, Emily. it's one of the oldest sites on the internet. Passed through many hands, seen trials and tribulation, bitter arguments, sickness and death. It still staggers on and a glance through the downloaded work recorded here will amaze you. It may still rise again, but even if it never reaches the heights it once did, the 500 club carries on bravely, waving the torch and exhibiting some of the finest writing around.
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ShanthiDragon
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 10, 2013 6:54 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

[quote="Harry"]... the night bright pin-points of light sparkled like miniature explosions in his eyes.... [/quote]

I love this phrase. It's almost poetic and very descriptive!

Thanks for your welcome! I hope to post here about once a week, time permitting; maybe more until I really get going on the project I've been mulling over. I've really enjoyed reading through past prompts and responses.

Emily
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Harry
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 10, 2013 7:06 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks, Emily. I shake my head in wonder sometimes ... at the effect these pictures have on people. How the nub of your inspiration responded to this prompt, how a hockey player and a lady weaver hit it off together! Mind Boggling! Thanks for stepping aboard and have a nice trip.
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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 10, 2013 5:22 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Emilly!

I see that Harry's already welcomed you to the group! He got me involved with the Voice and is a really wonderful writer.

It's so glad to see you here! I'm glad you decided to accept my invitation and can't wait to read your take on the prompt (I usually wait until I'm able to write something myself.)

God bless,
shadowlight/akaMarlicia
with God all things are possible
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Psychoreader
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 10, 2013 9:24 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Got under 500 words this time! Hope y'all enjoy!

God Bless,

Tahlia

_____________________________________________________________


The night nipped at her ears and nose. Shannon pulled her knees close and tried to soak up what warmth she could from the threadbare blanket.

Six hours, twelve days, nine months, and eight years; such had been her captivity here. An eternity with no apparent end.

And yet everything has an end. She trailed her fingers in the crevices in the stone walls, worn by time and abuse. Squeaking, too soft to be heard in the rattle and cacophony of the day, carried easily in the stillness of night.

"How much have you seen end?" she murmured to the wall.

In the cell next to hers, Risha the Smelly shifted on her slab. Shannon held her breath, but Risha settled back to sleep.

Quoron the Ancient used to claim that there was once a time when metal gods flew the skies, when a sound more beautiful than the croaking that could be produced by dry throats existed, and that hope once existed in a God who loved man enough to make guardians to keep him safe. Like the things he used to whisper about in forbidden communications over work and food, Quoron no longer existed. Like those things, Quoron was quickly forgotten.

It was easier to forget. More safe. No one ever knew what the Trenan heard. And hope, like the stories, was crushed with efficiency.

But I will not forget. Shannon stroked the wall. No. No more than you do, old friend. Perhaps the guardians and all else Quoron spoke of did not exist. But perhaps they did. And perhaps you saw it. And everything has to end. Even the Trenan. And with ending there has to be a new beginning. And perhaps there can be life outside these walls again.

Perhaps the world could live again.

The squeaking grew louder. Shannon froze, hands gripping the stone of the wall.

The hinges of the cells didn't so much squeak as they swore. Even if someone figured out how to manipulate the magiked locks fashioned by the Trenan, they wouldn't risk opening the doors. Not at night.

Shannon laid her face against the cold stone and held her breath. Whatever squeaked approached her, through the wall. She dug at the grout, searching for a weakness. Her finger slid into a small hole and touched something soft, then something wet.

Sharp pain shot through her hand and Shannon yanked it back. Blood glistened in the dim and scratching joined with the sound of squeaking before both faded completely away.

Shannon cradled her hand, staring at the small mark on her finger. It could not be there, should not be there. And yet it was.

There was no life in Haven beyond the survivors and most of those had been forced into the Castle, which was even deader than the Haven.

Yet I know what I felt. I felt warmth and breathing. I felt life.

Where there was life, there was hope. And with hope, they could begin anew.
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Last edited by Psychoreader on Mon Jun 10, 2013 9:45 pm; edited 2 times in total
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Psychoreader
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 10, 2013 9:30 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Wow, Harry, that's a powerful piece. There's some strong emotion behind it. The character's fear and determination not to be quenched, not to become another victim of time's rough embrace, is clearly felt. And yet, even the determination can't defeat the weakness of his body.

Thanks so much for sharing.
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Psychoreader
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 10, 2013 9:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Emily --

Nice to see you here!

The pictures are there only to spark the creative process. "They're not so much rules; they're more like guidelines." To misquote horribly a certain movie. Wink

I'm glad this one sparked something for you! It's nice to have a fresh voice here at the Voice.

Your characters live and breathe and it feels like I stepped out of my living room into Corrine's shop. It was a conversation I could hear happening and made me smile. Thanks for sharing.

God Bless,

Tahlia
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Harry
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PostPosted: Tue Jun 11, 2013 4:08 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Step aside Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, you've got as much in your gulag as he had in his, Tahlia. I remembered the same despair and excitement at the sight of a spider in his cell as Shannon experienced from the bite of a rat ... where there's life there's hope. You've got a real talent for the reality of make-believe, Tahlia ... keep it safe.
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Heidi
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 12, 2013 11:31 am    Post subject: comments Reply with quote

Welcome to the Voice Emily! Even though it's not terribly active at the moment (the website) the 500 word Project is always a good place to post. I liked your piece. I wasn't expecting the sport to be hockey for some reason but it's better that it was something recognizable. Harry your piece was good as well. I could see some policemen or some other poor soul finding your character. Psychoreader's story was good as well. I could picture the jail cell and the characters in your story. You've got a great imagination.
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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 12, 2013 12:46 pm    Post subject: Commanding Eyes (WC 500) Reply with quote

Here I am, late to the party again, LOL. Rough freewrite, but new, so I'm happy. I'll take a look at everyone else's in a little bit. My husband got home early and I need to spend some time with him.

God bless,
shadowlight/aka Marlicia
with God all things are possible


Commanding Eyes (WC 500)
© Marlicia Fernandez 6-12-13

Lightning cut across the sky, illuminating a stone fortress. Strains of music drifted on the breeze. Haunting and somehow…sinister.

A young woman with alabaster skin leaned out the window, her hair and robes rustling. She climbed through, called his name, and jumped—arms outstretched. But she was doomed. The bricks listened and the walls watched. They did more than watch. They orchestrated. And so, no one was there to catch her when she fell.

Andre cringed. “Make it stop.”

Darkness replaced the images, but his body shook with the crumbling of the fortress tower.

“André, look at me. It’s the only way I can help. Do you understand?”

That voice again. It was almost as bad as the, as the…. André squeezed his eyes shut. Nothing could be worse than that

“I want you to look at me.” A warm, hand squeezed his shoulder. “Do you know why you’re here?”

André drew his knees to his chest and shook his head. His head pounded. In a shadowy corner of his mind, something mocked him. He groaned and rested his forehead on his knees. Covering his ears with his hands did nothing silence the taunting.

“How can I help, if you won’t even look at me?”

The speaker sighed and the hand released him. Soft footsteps and a click indicated the lights had been turned off. André tilted his head. A faint hum filled the air. The lights had been turned down, not off. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe the eyes couldn’t see him in the dimness. Maybe now was a good time to try again to explain.

“I don’t know what happened.” André opened his eyes a little. “I mean I saw her and then I saw her.”

Dr. Meriweather perched on the edge of her seat. She tapped her pen against her notebook. “Her?”

“Her. You know. Sable. I ran for help, but I was too late. She’d already fallen.”

The doctor’s pen scratched across the page. “That’s not what the evidence says.”

“It’s true.”

“André…” Doctor Meriweather looked over her glasses. “You know it’s not. You know you did it. You were seen.”

Blue eyes studied him from behind the doctor’s glasses. Just like the eyes that had watched him, commanded him, compelled him. They stared out at him as they had done from his Sable. André sprang at the doctor screaming. She scrambled back and he tumbled to the ground in a heap at her feet, tripped by his shackles. A guard burst through the door.

“Are you all right?”

Dr. Meriweather nodded. “Why did you do it André? Why blind her you killed her and bury her eyes in the stone wall?”

“I had to,” André choked out. “Her eyes saw everything. Knew everything.” Tears rolled down his face. “They spoke volumes and had to be silenced.” Large blue eyes stared at him from the far wall. He cowered at the doctor’s feet, whimpering. “It didn’t work. The eyes are here. They’ve come for me.”

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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 12, 2013 1:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Wow, Harry! This is amazing! I think it's one of your best, and that's saying something. Thanking you letting us read this. It was an honor and a pleasure.

Well done my friend!

God bless,
Marlicia
with God all things are possible

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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 12, 2013 1:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Emily!

In case I didn't say so earlier, I'm so glad that you found us and that you posted a story. Since I know a little about your background, I had to smile at this story. It's so you! I truly enjoyed what appears to be a budding romance and would love to know what happens next! I hope you will post more soon, either to previous prompts or to the next one.

God bless, and keep up the great work!
Marlicia
with God all things are possible

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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 12, 2013 1:49 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Tahlia,

Very nicely written piece. It makes me want to know more. Why is she there? What destroyed the world. Is like coming back. Is it safe or will it be something worse than a nightmare. This has potential for something larger. Wonderful job!

God bless,
Mom
with God all things are possible

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Harry
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 12, 2013 2:58 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

What's this? Where have the shape shifters gone. A welcome change of pace Marlicia. But this André ... a piece of work I must say. I like him and I think you should keep him in yur chamber of horrors. I knew when you introduced "A young woman with alabaster skin" she was not long for this world. They never are.
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ShanthiDragon
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 16, 2013 11:46 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Tahlia, I so enjoyed your piece. It could be used as a prompt itself! I can imagine all kinds of back-story, not to mention how the plot could move forward. I was transported for a few minutes. Thank you! Smile
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 16, 2013 11:52 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Marlicia, your post also transported me. What an interesting look into an unsettled mind... or perhaps into a mind that can see what others can't! You leave me wanting to know more about your main character, his past, and his fate - and that's a good thing. Smile
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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 20, 2013 4:25 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hi Harry!

I have to keep you on your toes, LOL. (The shifters were being a little shy and uncommunicative). I'm glad you enjoyed this and that you like Andre'. To be honest, he scares me a bit. But I will keep him. I'm not sure what's going on with him yet, so don't rule the fantasy crew out completely. Surprised)

God bless and thanks again for your kind words,
Marlicia
with God all things are possible

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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 20, 2013 4:32 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hi Emily,

Thank you for taking the time to read and to comment on this for me. I know how busy you are, so I really appreciate it. And I'm very happy that the story held your interest and that you'd like to know more. That makes my day! Such wonderful kind words! Thank you!

God bless,
Marlicia
with God all things are possible

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Psychoreader
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 23, 2013 9:45 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I've been a horrible person and haven't been here for a while.

Harry -- Thanks for supportive comment. I've never heard of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn; I might have to look up his stuff.

Heidi -- I'm glad that you liked my piece and that you could see the picture I tried to paint. Smile

Mom -- First of thanks for your comment. I'm glad you see room for expansion, so it'll probably join a myriad of other stories on the back burner until that magical day when I have much more time to write. So many hobbies, so little time.
Secondly, I found your story very interesting. Very different for you insofar as you strayed for your normal fantasy genre. Parts of it made me think of Poe, definitely harkening back to your writing roots. Nice to see.

Emily -- I'm glad you found so much room for imagination in my piece and that you were able to be transported, although I hope you brought a torch and a blanket, it's kind of dank in there. Wink
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