Friday, September 30, 2011


This week, we want you to be inspired by pictures. Write a piece – fiction or creative non-fiction – based on your reaction to either of these photos. Or both.
Word limit is…600
In the distance a trumpet low and whispering, from a window a violin. Each note as haunting, as the woman who stood in the shadow of the alley. The eyes pierced with pain, searched through the fog, for what I could not tell. She wore a tattered gown, and the breeze lifted and lowered it, yet leaving her undisturbed. I stood back and hidden, but enraptured by the scene.

Eyes moved from dim to bright as a song slipped from her lips. Instruments from distances began joining in. Keys of a piano pushed her into moving forward, now dancing toward  the street.

I stood mesmerized, or the vision and the song.  I couldn't understand why I felt invited here, a necessary guest.

The music echoed off the walls. Crept up through the cracks below. It surrounded me as if living, with hands that held me there.

Now she danced with a vacant partner, around the streets beyond. Her voice took a different rhythm, her steps a racing beat. I felt her breath come over me, her heartbeat call me in. A smile swept across her face, her eyes were now ablaze.

The more I watched, the more familiar she became.

Her face.
The music.
The dance.
All a part of me.

A sudden realization, an understanding revealed.

I was the missing partner.
Her my mourning bride.

I couldn't dance this dance
I couldn't ease her pain.

From the fog the winding case appeared. My steps were slow, methodic...the music pushed me upward. The vision of my lovely bride, continually disappeared. As the staircase lifted to the sky, the fog and music drifted with it.

The music silenced.
Her steps stifled.
Pushed back into the shadows,
her haunted look returned.

Not many days from this, the music will lead her here.
She too will walk this case, and join me in the dance.