The canvas set.
Every stroke vivid.
Every line drawn, nuanced.
Painting with deep, resonant colors.
The tones shift, the lighting rewrought.
Building in layers upon layers, each subject meticulously captured.
Standing back, we look again before changing direction.
Every subtlety intentional.
The canvas complete, the critics arise.
In painted prose—a novel.
Rhythmic and regular, the click and swish continue incessantly.Each thread woven in sequence, layering side by side.Slowly the colors emerge, interwoven amidst the threads designed to strengthen.The cut of the fabric is shaped and molded.Every stitch, meticulous; every fold, crucial. The narrative robed in cloth.
The young waitress sat at the counter, her tips laid out in front of her as she counted. Old country songs, soft in the background, as she felt around for her glasses. A movement from the corner caught her attention. The last booth. The last customer… creepy. The guy seemed to be staring at her…
The damn birds… the incessant cooing. If Patty could think of a better punishment… she would. She could not forget her little Katie’s laughter from the back seat. Her daughter, so bright and joyful. They had been laughing about something. Try though she did, she could never recall what. The pigeons filled the road ahead,…
Out across the sea, the beam of light sweeps, searching… guiding… waiting for someone to see. The rain pelts the windows, hammering in sheets and droves. The storm rages. His coffee… different… a slight hint of salt and iron. He had emptied the last of his bottled water yesterday, so he was using water from…
The sounds have clicks and ticks and various inflections that I just cannot recreate. Ever since I arrived, the natives… let’s call them benefactors… have been incessantly hovering, though, odd enough, their attention is erratic. My food, normally provided regularly, is sometimes forgotten. This means I have to sidle up to the bars of my…
The cracked sidewalk led up to the creaky steps of the old Victorian house. He took a deep breath… and began walking up to the porch just above the stairs. With each step, it felt like he was walking in molasses. Slowly, his legs felt heavier the closer he got. At the steps, he struggled…
