amaranthh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greenling) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2013-08-12 11:10 pm
greenling) wrote in rainbowfic2013-08-12 11:10 pm
Iceberg #15
Name: Greenling
Story: Asking for Roses
Colors: Iceberg #15 (evergreens)
Supplies: Canvas (more snippets of Jaymie's backstory), Watercolors ("Write a story set in a place where the landscape reworks itself nightly.")
Styles: Graffiti (Midsummer Night's Dream prompts here and here), Photography, Miniature Collection (roughly)
Word Count: 399
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Summary: Little pieces of before, during, and after Jaymie's disappearance. I didn't end up getting the Midsummer prompts in in exactly the way I wanted, but they're in there a little at least.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
A velvet dome studded with flickering bulbs, resembling stars except for their placement in little rows; or a cavern of rock, lit by flickering fire, covered in skyscraper-sized scalactites from which twitching bodies hung; or an endless gray haze of smoke and sparks, trails writhing and dancing like living things (and they may have been); walls of black basalt, or obsidian, or the souls of the damned- he wouldn't know the difference- studded with jewels that reflected deep blue light. The floor was always the same. Cackling, screaming, music.
--
His smile was radiant. (In a lifetime surrounded by beautiful people, Jaymie had never seen anyone quite like that.) His suit was impeccable. (Black, no material, no recognizable cut, no designer, never thought, never asked.) His eyes were soft and spoke before his mouth did. (Did the man have eyes at first? In the snippets of him in crowds, in the corners of things?) His hands were gnarled claws. (By that time, he was lost.)
--
The stars had moved visibly through the skies by the time he tore himself away; he was close enough that he could smell the chlorine from the pool, close enough to see the figures moving past the blinds in lit rooms. There were lights on motion sensors, usually; he didn't know if they were gone or he just hadn't tripped them. The attic, the office, that was lit. That wasn't unusual. It was unusual, to what he could remember, to see the light turn off, then a minute later, to see the kitchen light turn on, his father dashing past (his hair was as much silver as gold), and a light from the side- that was the bedroom.
He could tell trouble when he saw it, and he ran.
--
Four white walls, with the wallpaper gone. Boxes moved to closets, fresh linens on the bed, and the lock removed from the door, just in case. Everything in place, everything he had (whether he remembered it or not).
Deep in the closet, shut up in a box, a book full of fanciful things: some sketches of people, some of creatures, some notes from books, some from dreams. Little things with wings, big things with shaggy hair, swatches of fabric and doodles of color scattered between them. It hadn't started that way, with such inspiration.
He had learned how little cause mattered to effect.
--
And I have a name I actually like! Sorry about the last try, but if someone could add Story: Asking for Roses I'll add it to the other ones.
Story: Asking for Roses
Colors: Iceberg #15 (evergreens)
Supplies: Canvas (more snippets of Jaymie's backstory), Watercolors ("Write a story set in a place where the landscape reworks itself nightly.")
Styles: Graffiti (Midsummer Night's Dream prompts here and here), Photography, Miniature Collection (roughly)
Word Count: 399
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Summary: Little pieces of before, during, and after Jaymie's disappearance. I didn't end up getting the Midsummer prompts in in exactly the way I wanted, but they're in there a little at least.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
A velvet dome studded with flickering bulbs, resembling stars except for their placement in little rows; or a cavern of rock, lit by flickering fire, covered in skyscraper-sized scalactites from which twitching bodies hung; or an endless gray haze of smoke and sparks, trails writhing and dancing like living things (and they may have been); walls of black basalt, or obsidian, or the souls of the damned- he wouldn't know the difference- studded with jewels that reflected deep blue light. The floor was always the same. Cackling, screaming, music.
--
His smile was radiant. (In a lifetime surrounded by beautiful people, Jaymie had never seen anyone quite like that.) His suit was impeccable. (Black, no material, no recognizable cut, no designer, never thought, never asked.) His eyes were soft and spoke before his mouth did. (Did the man have eyes at first? In the snippets of him in crowds, in the corners of things?) His hands were gnarled claws. (By that time, he was lost.)
--
The stars had moved visibly through the skies by the time he tore himself away; he was close enough that he could smell the chlorine from the pool, close enough to see the figures moving past the blinds in lit rooms. There were lights on motion sensors, usually; he didn't know if they were gone or he just hadn't tripped them. The attic, the office, that was lit. That wasn't unusual. It was unusual, to what he could remember, to see the light turn off, then a minute later, to see the kitchen light turn on, his father dashing past (his hair was as much silver as gold), and a light from the side- that was the bedroom.
He could tell trouble when he saw it, and he ran.
--
Four white walls, with the wallpaper gone. Boxes moved to closets, fresh linens on the bed, and the lock removed from the door, just in case. Everything in place, everything he had (whether he remembered it or not).
Deep in the closet, shut up in a box, a book full of fanciful things: some sketches of people, some of creatures, some notes from books, some from dreams. Little things with wings, big things with shaggy hair, swatches of fabric and doodles of color scattered between them. It hadn't started that way, with such inspiration.
He had learned how little cause mattered to effect.
--
And I have a name I actually like! Sorry about the last try, but if someone could add Story: Asking for Roses I'll add it to the other ones.
no subject
That said, I love love love the description in this. It conveys so much information about Jaymie's state as well as his surroundings, and I think it's really well done.
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Thank you. I'm really glad this is coherent. And thank you in particular that you keep reading this, even when I'm tossing off challenge responses and running.
no subject
I really enjoy your writing! I admit to being a bit lost as to how things fit together, but you write it all so well that I don't actually care too much, as I have faith that you'll pull it together in the end.
no subject
I do need to go back and finish some of the intervening scenes in the first chunk. Right now, one main problem is finding color prompts for some of these... long-term plans are cutting into short-term plans and need to be revised.
I at least got to do a Photography style for this. That was cool.
no subject
no subject