A Creation Of Light
But sky had long decayed into an abstraction
The mute darkness pushed his madness deeper into an internal world of locked doors and lightless windows where he lived chained to his certainty that life crept from one insurmountable moment to another. His cavern was ageless and unopened for it wasn’t physicality that bound him but rather an existent and persistent set of spiritual falsifications that rendered his transcendent prison impenetrable.
When a mechanical roar interrupted his long held silence, he reached into the furthest alcove of his memory for a word that would release its secret syllable and assist his understanding, but none crawled forward on the branches of his thoughts. A machine, but his ability to identify beyond basics had suffocated beneath the thick blankets of his years.
With painful light in his eyes he gazed at the intruder with its circular limbs and its perforated black head that leaked blue illumination from a backdrop he once knew as sky. But sky had long decayed into an abstraction and not a form to behold. For ages, quiet darkness had been his companion. Cherished, magical. It would take a supreme act of resolve, something he was now forced to dredge, to climb from his captivity and touch the heavens again.
— — — —
And there you have my interpretation of the above photo. I don’t usually do this sort of thing, but I came across the photo and the prompt challenge while cruising in 2nd gear around the internet and decided to give it a go. I didn’t win the grand prize, but I had a lot of fun.
Speaking of fun, I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. Thanks for stopping by Dynamic Creed, home of odd tidbits from the edge of life. This time less filling (clocking in at around 220 words), but I may publish a longer piece (2000 words) in the near future. To tell the truth, I’m not sure if 2k is too long.
At any rate, drop a heart click, or a comment, or a hundred dollar bill and know that I don’t edit these ending words, just make them up in the moment. Henry knows what I mean.
All the best, Victor David
And here’s a couple of other lovely stories from the archive. Don’t the leave the archive lonely.
I could lose myself in your Forest of Metaphors. Loved and delighted in all the hues you painted for us in words. And, since you asked (last week) Yes! I missed you. I hope the intentional break from publishing was every bit as you had wanted it to be.
"but none crawled forward on the branches of his thoughts." Nice imagery Victor. Well done!