The exercise:
Write about: the shadows of tomorrow.
Showing posts with label Shadows Prompt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shadows Prompt. Show all posts
Wednesday May 12th, 2010
The exercise:
Today's prompt comes courtesy of g2: The Shadow knows.
Maniacal laugh not required, but recommended.
Mine:
Who left this scratch upon my nose? Did it come from a thorn on that red, red rose? Did it happen while I dozed? Has my security been exposed?
Only The Shadow knows.
Why do you walk as though there are egg shells beneath your toes? Why are you striking such a suspicious pose? Are we about to come to blows?
The Shadow knows.
Does anyone know where this goes? Why do you suppose I compose this rhyming prose?
Not even The Shadow knows.
Wednesday September 24th, 2008
The exercise:
Today's starter is: shadow figures.
Mine:
The candle light draws a wavering cartoon figure on the walls, larger than life. His nose is too small for his head, his hair is unkempt and one arm is pointing straight up, a single finger extending upwards.
He will never be drawn exactly this way again, this version will pass from existence with a single breath. I try to memorize his shape, his bearing, knowing that I will be the first, last, and only witness to his life.
I give him a silent salute and gently usher him off the walls and into the uncertain history of memory.
Today's starter is: shadow figures.
Mine:
The candle light draws a wavering cartoon figure on the walls, larger than life. His nose is too small for his head, his hair is unkempt and one arm is pointing straight up, a single finger extending upwards.
He will never be drawn exactly this way again, this version will pass from existence with a single breath. I try to memorize his shape, his bearing, knowing that I will be the first, last, and only witness to his life.
I give him a silent salute and gently usher him off the walls and into the uncertain history of memory.
Monday September 15th, 2008
The exercise:
The starter for today is: a sombrero's shadow.
Mine:
The man takes the stage, a guitar in his dark hands, a sombrero on his head and a restless, noisy crowd before him. There is no mic for him to sing into and I worry that he will go unheard, unnoticed, unknown.
Squinting into the spotlight, he tunes his instrument, the shadow on the wall behind him matching his every move. The shadow appears to be wearing a serving bowl balanced on its head and carrying a gun in its hands.
His fingers move lovingly over the strings but I do not hear their response. Clouds of cigar smoke float lazily between us, then he begins to sing.
His voice is soft at first but gradually grows stronger. As he sings louder, the crowd becomes quieter, until his voice and his guitar are the only sounds in this crowded room. We hold our breath as he celebrates his.
He sings of love won and lost, of life and death, of the days gone by and the days to come. When he finishes he is engulfed by applause and invitations to join tables for free drinks and conversation. But he gives a humble bow, waves goodbye and returns to the night from whence he came.
The starter for today is: a sombrero's shadow.
Mine:
The man takes the stage, a guitar in his dark hands, a sombrero on his head and a restless, noisy crowd before him. There is no mic for him to sing into and I worry that he will go unheard, unnoticed, unknown.
Squinting into the spotlight, he tunes his instrument, the shadow on the wall behind him matching his every move. The shadow appears to be wearing a serving bowl balanced on its head and carrying a gun in its hands.
His fingers move lovingly over the strings but I do not hear their response. Clouds of cigar smoke float lazily between us, then he begins to sing.
His voice is soft at first but gradually grows stronger. As he sings louder, the crowd becomes quieter, until his voice and his guitar are the only sounds in this crowded room. We hold our breath as he celebrates his.
He sings of love won and lost, of life and death, of the days gone by and the days to come. When he finishes he is engulfed by applause and invitations to join tables for free drinks and conversation. But he gives a humble bow, waves goodbye and returns to the night from whence he came.
Monday July 21st, 2008
The exercise:
Your theme for today: shadows.
Mine:
I'm at my most natural during the day. But a flick of a switch at any time can bring me out to play. I was born a mute so I never get a say. Sometimes I follow but I prefer to lead the way.
I'm very good friends with the ground, although on the wall I can also be found. I'm really one of the most flexible guys around!
One thing of which I'll never tire: dancing around an open fire! More, more, stoke the flames higher! Make me a giant, a monster most dire.
Ah, the sun is down, the lights are off, time to go to bed. But I do not rest, I stay busy in his head - for all over his dreams I shall lightly tread.
Your theme for today: shadows.
Mine:
I'm at my most natural during the day. But a flick of a switch at any time can bring me out to play. I was born a mute so I never get a say. Sometimes I follow but I prefer to lead the way.
I'm very good friends with the ground, although on the wall I can also be found. I'm really one of the most flexible guys around!
One thing of which I'll never tire: dancing around an open fire! More, more, stoke the flames higher! Make me a giant, a monster most dire.
Ah, the sun is down, the lights are off, time to go to bed. But I do not rest, I stay busy in his head - for all over his dreams I shall lightly tread.
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