November 3rd, 2011

Normal

So I decided to do my own take on NaNo...

But the I realized that it's practically worthless if I don't save the work somewhere that will be accessible to me, and considering the amount of computers / keyboards that touch my hands weekly -
Hello my Lj and welcome back to life!

To make a long story short  - 30 days, 30 photos, 30 drabbles - 100-600 words each. Hopefully in different styles... I'll be aiming for that in the long run: to step out of my niche.

So without further ado, I present to you - the first two days (all dates in this post are not written in American. I also celebrated New Who day a month after you guys, so I'm using my wibbly-wobbly privileges again)



1.11.11

(Found on a random page on flickr)
It wasn't clear what had brought her to this place.
She looked around at the bright lights, and the even brighter colors, as she tried to make sense of it all.
"Excuse me." A serving girl passed by wearing little more than a leotard, and she moved aside, making room for her and the tray she was carrying before loud noises announcing a winner came abruptly and tore her focus away.
The need to move away from there was strong, and she barely noted as her legs took her towards the other side of the room, the cacophony and lights too distracting.
I need to leave.


2.11.11

(Found over at wickedkiwi's tumblr)

Her fingers tapped restlessly against the table top in front of her for a moment before she stopped them yet again. The train felt as though it was standing still.
Looking outside her window she stared noting the rustic houses across the small channel they were passing, all red brick farm-like residences. She tapped her fingers again and drew the curtain open a bit more. It wasn't long now.
Just a few more minutes, a few more miles.
When the car came to a stop she all but grabbed her luggage and leaped out, having long since left her seat.
"Hi," she said when her feet touched the platform, her lips quirking into a smile "I've missed you."
People Change

Black, gray, white, Stress, and perspective...

Today's photo was taken by me (hence the askew perspective..). It's of a piece of art created by my friend Daphna Dubin, and "borrowed" with her permission.
It's called Stress.
I kind of ignored that...


High above the forest she flew, her voice, her song carrying all around her as she moved through the air with easy, agile grace born out of years of practice. Below her she could see the top of evergreen trees, still painted black by the night that has not yet receded, except from the horizon far to her left.
She turned her head towards the nearing dawn and smiled at the faint color that began to peal back the thick dark blanket of night. Turning her focus back towards her route she flexed her shoulders. An unnecessary gesture, but considering she would soon need to cease this way of traveling and touch her feet to the ground, limbering her body after a long night spent with only chill air as a companion seemed to be a good option. She spread her arms, mindful of the rings which adorned each of her middle fingers.
Her smile grew, and her song increased in intensity from the simple joy of feeling the air flow around her, through her hair, and back, as if parting before her and caressing her at the same time. The earliest rays of light from the new day caressing her, breaking into a multitude of colors from the clear gems adorning the rings on her fingers.
The dawn was nearly upon her now, the sky to her left mostly gray and turning a pale shade of blue, and then gold as if to signal the sun's arrival. She turned then, angling herself towards the ground with her feet leading the way and her arms still outstretched. Her song quietened more and more as her distance to the ground diminished, until her feet touched the dew-damp soil, and the song ended with lips parted in a soft smile.
She stretched again, her arms rising far above her head, and then she looked around, her eyes quickly falling on a long branch lying on the ground. She walked towards it and picked it up, putting her hand against the tree from which it fell in thanks before turning the rings and hiding the gems inside her slightly closed hands. With one last gaze through the tall trees, now once again green, thanks to the light, she bowed her shoulders, lowered her head and left the tree, using the fallen limb as a walking staff.
But not before one last look, and a pat of thanks to the rough bark.