help me write this story…

img_20150125_152729_rewind

I don’t remember the story behind this photograph but it is better that way.  My words would likely just muddy up the story that first came to your mind when you saw it.  Was it the clouds you saw first?  The Water?  The land across the sea?  The people in the foreground?  What called out to you?

I propose a game…  I’ll set the scene with the picture above, and the paragraph below this one.  Then, you all, my faithful kindgomites, shall come up with the story.  Look at the picture, then read my setting introduction and read what others’ have left in the comments to expand on the story already, and then leave your own part of it as well, and together we shall tell our own tale.  I start.  First commentor goes next.  Second commentor adds to that.  And so on…  What do you say to that?  You’ll join in the fun?  I knew you would!

…..

The canvas drank in the colors of the sunset battle.  The sea stilled to watch.  The air calmed as a collective held breath, awaiting the outcome.  Underneath it all, though, heartbeats quickened with excitement and nerves.  Soon the battle would be over and darkness would swallow the canvas, wiping it clean.  Then the sea would be whipped to a frenzy again as wind ripped across its surface.

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5 thoughts on “help me write this story…

  1. Nature’s turmoil was an ancient and seemingly-everlasting loop, and Violette was beginning to feel trapped in a similar upheaval. Everything she built, the waves washed up. She was constantly starting over, like the sun.

    “Isn’t it peaceful?” her companion said, interrupting her thoughts.

  2. “Yes, peaceful,” she replied, her thoughts still on the sea. Her companion said something else, but her distracted thoughts had already returned to the sea, to the horizon beyond. She knew what was on it’s way, what was gathering beyond the horizon. Having visions of the future was not always a good thing. She knew what was coming, what the battle would bring. And, more than anyone, she knew the dreadful losses that would come.

  3. As the embers in the sky faded ever so gradually and spilled a swath of ink and the air cooled further, the two of them stirred and stood, and started to walk away from the sea.

  4. Later that night, swamped in blanket waves and washed up, salty and sated upon a mattress shore, Violette once again remembered the swell and suck of the sea, and its never-ending nature of circles and cycles, and how life and history and everything between, seem to work according to some orbit whose channels were laid out before time began. She thought of her life and the cycles and repetitions within it, and their insignificance beneath the glory of the sky – the same but different every day, as it had been for millions of years, and as it would continue to be once she and her stories were dust. She breathed in deeply, wondering about the particles she inhaled as she did so, where they’d been, what parts of which circles of the world she had just taken into her lungs to become part of her before being released, later. She breathed out deeply, wondering how much of her had been exhaled along with the air, where it would land, what it would become part of.

    As her thoughts and breathing slowed, her eyelids drooped, and she relaxed, anchored safe in her lover’s arms. The rhythm of their breathing intertwined, and gradually her consciousness swam free.

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