Spring flowers laced with crystal tears…
the warmth of Summer nurturing her flora…
A lovely friend posted a couple of photos on Facebook this week
of her garden flowers in the rain, and as we’ve had a fair bit of rain this May
it made me think of my own flowers decorated with diamonds…
‘It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.’ Henry David Thoreau.
I’m one of life’s observers. Details are my thing, right from when I was young and experimenting with art and writing. I had a penchant for precision, clarity and aestheticbeauty – and a deep need to put what I saw into a creative context.
I see things – all the time. I see everything. I’m an HSPHighly Sensitive Person – (and I’ll write a post on that another day) – but it accounts for my ability to see so much around me. Sometimes it’s a difficult thing: that fluff on the carpet needs to be moved, the white glaring book spine on the shelf cannot be placed with dark spines, and tiny movements in the corner of my eye distract me to the point of tears at times, but most of the time being an observer is a blessing.
I see the dew drop in the rose, the tiny green spider weaving a home amongst the stems, patterns in the frost, the sparkle of ice in winter, the heron standing as still as a statue, the dust-coated papery wings of a moth or the light behind petals that turn them into fairy wings…
I notice the small things. I hear the whisper in the forest and differentiate the clouds in the sky. I watch the swallows dive and the bats flit over our heads. I feel the sunbeams on my skin and see the shimmer of moonlight in my hair. I breathe in jasmine and honeysuckle and notice the hairs on bumblebees’ legs. I recently watched wasps build a nest in my Dad’s garage – the precision and care was amazing.
And it’s not just what you see it’s what you feel too. Feel the mood change as the clouds gather and the wild feeling of passion as storms swell.Enjoy the sensation of a soft fall of snow and wonder at the design of each individual flake. Feel the sprinkle of cold water from the waterfall. Smell the freshness of rain and the fragrance of petrichor, and the waft of delicate perfume. Think of the taste of chocolatemelting on your tongue, a kiss beneath the stars, and the warmth of a hug…
And there’s the blessing of humanity. We see so much harm, but do we notice the youth who holds the door open for his elder? We should notice the small works that are done every day to help, to serve and to love. See the love in a mother’s eyes as she gazes at her child, the protective handon a shoulder from a father, and the simple gesture of holding hands.
Sometimes life gets busy, sometimes it gets us down, and when it does that’s the time to start looking. That’s the time to search for the little things, to see the small things and drink them in. Stand by the ocean and watch the waves, breathe in the saltyair and listen to the pebbles turn beneath the shore. Let the windwhisper in your hair. Wander through the woods and notice the flowers, the tiny wild violets, or simple daisies. Let the sun dance upon your face, close your eyes and feel it. Gaze up at the stars and wonder at the MilkyWay as it arcs in a mass of constellations right over your head.
I take these moments into my soul. I let them charge my emotions and I use my recollections as I write. Description flows and colour pervades the page, and the world comes alive in the stories I tell.
Thanis sighed as the punishing wind swept billowing clouds of dust through the bare limbs of the grey elm forest. The vast apocalyptic landscape spread beyond her cracked windows and she hugged her child close as she glanced at the limp crop of leaves in her dusty yard.
A prayer slipped from her lips, a yearning petition to the gods, amid quiet words of desperation…
She turned from the grimy window and a gust howled across the basin, echoing her lamentation, and as she turned back a smile spread across her weary face. High above the valley, above the regimented elms on the mountainside, the wind blew the clouds aside and a shaft of light lit a glittering spray of rain – a true gift.
The rain fell, heavy and abrupt, and before Lily had a chance to move she was soaked, the sky’s tears drenching her t-shirt and darkening her mud-splattered jeans. Shaking, dirt-ridden hands hung at her sides and she stared up into the roiling clouds as the heavens wept with her.
Lily bit her lip as her fingers trembled through her straggly tresses then she flung out her arms in defiance as she twirled; starved vengeance served as she whirled. Her hair spun out in heavy, water-laden rat-tails as she ravenously kicked up earth, and the rain danced on her skin and drummed upon the fresh mound under her feet.
Her laugh echoed as she buried far more than a corpse beneath the hammering of dawn’s heavy downpour.
Another Five Sentence Fiction for the word prompt Hunger…make of it what you will in its ambiguity!
Another Blues Buster from The Tsuruoka Files, the prompt song is A Rainy Night in Soho by The Pogues and several lines from this song inspired me: ‘I’ve been loving you a long time, down all the years, down all the days, and I’ve cried for all your troubles, smiled at your funny little ways…’ and ‘Now the song is nearly over, we may never find out what it means, still there’s a light I hold before me, you’re the measure of my dreams…’
Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)
A Rainy Night in Soho He glanced at her, his pale blue eyes tearing up as he gazed at her long hair, glowing silver in the moonlight upon the pillow. She stirred and a smile played on his lips. He wanted to reach across and move a stray lock away from her face, but didn’t want to risk waking her at such an early hour. A sigh swelled in his throat and he released it gently, shivering as his breath departed in a long wisp of smoke. The cold penetrated his bones, even under the thick duvet, and he pulled the cover up tucking it round his shoulders. He carefully manoeuvred his body, again cautious not to disturb his lady, and settled on his side, his head gently relaxing into his flat and stained pillow. He drifted off to sleep with the beating rain drumming in his head.
She danced in his slumber, invaded his dreams with her youthful grace and honest beauty. He whirled her in his arms, up and down the rainy, glittering streets beneath the brutal neon lights and dirty windows. Her crimson lips and tight dress won hearts and minds, and caused desire to rise through the steamy rain. He whirled her in his arms, letting her dance, and he fought her battles and defeated the dragons disguised as paramours. He allowed her essence to soak him and he fell in love.
He awoke again, still in the depths of night. He tried to dilute the urge, but failed, and he pushed back the duvet and stepped out onto cold, hard linoleum. He hurried across the floor and down the corridor, the cold air prickling like a million tiny daggers of ice and he clicked the bathroom door closed. Sweet relief and he moved as swiftly as he could back to bed. Sliding down beneath the covers he wriggled his toes to recirculate his chilled blood. He shivered violently as the temperature slowly rose and he gripped the duvet tight around his chin. He stared at the window, still partially lit by the roaming moon and smiled as familiar neon blue flickered in the bottom corner, from the sign on the building opposite. He sank into the mattress, feeling his body reacquaint to its accustomed hollow. His eyes gradually closed and his dream resumed.
She still danced, but this time she waltzed just out of reach, her long, black hair glinting against the stormy night, her lips smiling and teasing. He relaxed to watch and adore his queen as she stole the hearts and yearning of every man she saw. He had nothing to worry, for she returned to his embrace every night, creeping back into his arms and soul in the early hours to slake their desire.
The moon was vanquished when he woke, and salmon pink streaked through the early clouds peering in through the icy window. Frost had etched and encrusted the pane while they’d slept, and dawn’s colours danced, filtering through the oblique design. A tired sigh escaped his mouth and he chuckled at the smoke eddying through the crisp morning air, as he turned to regard his love. She remained asleep, her raven hair, now silver and white in dawn’s gaze, and he carefully propped his old body up on his elbow. Ravaging cold bit through his greying vest and goose-bumps exploded across his wrinkled skin, and his rheumy eyes blinked with unshed tears. He caressed her shrunken cheek, and moved the stray lock of hair. He leaned forward and tenderly kissed her dry, cracked lips. Grief tore through his ancient body, and he shuddered, and swirling breath danced across her peace, as his tears dropped onto her tranquil face. Her song was done, not a note escaped her silent lips, but he gently moved from his depression in the mattress and cupped his body to hers. There he lingered, holding his love, his tears wetting the pillow and her silver hair, and in his dreams she danced…
This is for The Latinum Vault’s Monday Mixer. Write a piece in exactly 150 words using at least three of the prompt words. I chose to try and use all nine words!
Photo by Lisa Shambrook (Please do not use without permission)
He stared across the desolate fenland, a barren expanse stretching from the mortuary to the distant shrouded hills. Like Magwitch, Henry’s lip sneered at his sodden feet, he should’ve thieved the sedulous attendant’s overshoes as well as his mackintosh, egalitarian, he was not. The cottage emerged from behind the damp, coiling mists, an oasis in his fraught mind, and he wiped his forehead with a crimson bandana discovered in the stolen coat’s pocket. Rain teemed endlessly and he sought protection from the unsavoury elements. His foot kicked the cloche as he raced across the garden and cursed as glass shattered across the path, so much for a quiet entrance. He burst through the unlocked door. She stood wide-eyed and open mouthed at the dripping man before her. “Had a really bad day at work sweetie!” he began suddenly loquacious after the silence of the moor, “Car broke down…then it rained…”
Clouds billowed across the heavens teasing the little sail boat rocking in the ocean’s arms below. The sailor glanced skyward and Rain offered a light-hearted shower, her watery robes glistening in the sunlight.
Wind whipped her skirts about her and hurled her sister a glare interrupting the sprinkle. “You won’t win like that!” she hissed sending her own provocative sigh into the little boat’s sails.
“Well you’re not doing any better!” said Rain resuming her shower, crystal raindrops shrouding the wooden mast.
Wind swept out her hands and blew her sister’s fluffy clouds away, scattering her sparkling drizzle across the sea. Wind smirked and pitched a gale. Her long hair fluttered in the remnants of the storm and Wind sent a swirling gust to envelope the sailor amid the violent squall.
Rain clapped her hands, darkened her clouds and her torrents engulfed the boat.
Wind whipped up a fury, “He’ll be mine, not yours!” she shrieked her temper flaring as rain poured.
The drenched, shivering man on the deck below cursed them both as the tempest arose.
Wind, determined to beat her sister, stirred up a whirlwind and coiled her tendrils around the sailor, but Rain wasn’t to be outdone and let her roiling clouds release their cascade in a waterfall of tears. The valiant sailor fought as howling wind swept his boat awry, and torrential rain flooded the deck leaving him clinging to the rail of his boat.
The storm flourished as Wind and Rain battled conjuring up blazing lightning and ear-splitting thunder…and as they did waves swirled and churned beneath the tiny boat, booming against the bow and hurtling across its deck. Beneath the keel Ocean smothered a chuckle and allowed her sisters’ fight to escalate. Their ensuing wrath would assault her in vain but their prize was hers.
Ocean tossed her white hair as it danced on the waves and drew the little vessel beneath the spray. The sailor slipped into her grasp and quietly acquiesced within her embrace and kiss…after all, she knew what her sisters didn’t – a sailor always gives his life to the Ocean.
The Last Krystallos 