truthofnovelty
orchestra reminds me of night. it reminds me of crickets and night butterlies buzzing to lanterns. it reminds me of frogs and warm weather and a treasured breeze. orchestra is nature – everything for once working in a weird sort of harmony… the orchestra of night.
now i have added myself time!!
imagine a scene like this - you're forced to go outside (to deliver a letter, to your neighbor... about a half mile through some woods) and there's a little stream you have to cross. it's glowing an icicle's blue.
and you see a man! a shadow, a sillouhette, and he's playing the violin, bent over like a spider. and in his orchestra is all the previously described sounds.
I backspaced. I broke the rules. I couldn't bear to reread what I'd written.
To relate to you. It's what we seek, maybe. A connection. A thin, shining white string tying together us stars, floating in the black, ednless universe
(this is the same word)
anyway, let me go on about my rose-colored forest.
This center, given it's foreboding surroundings, is completely undiscovered. And magical things are often very undiscovered, so this center is especially magical.
It is inhabited by goblins. Goblins with gnarled, bony hands and long, thin, mean looking faces. Their eyes slant - bright green - on their faces, and their mouths are turned into an angry grimace. They wear clothing of rich velvet and gold, with silver buttons, and they eat squirrels that they catch with their bear hands.
I didn't come up with goblins for "foreign." No, a girl called, "Samantha" did. But what is the difference between inspiration and copying? i shall say that samantha inspired me, not that I am copying her.
So, let me write my story about goblins. I shall add to it each day.
Accross seas that roll like breath - white and blue breath on a cold day - is a wood. The wood is dark on the edges; children with their hand shovels and striped beach hats pass it with no more than a wary glance.
But in this dark wood, there is a magical center. The light, it seems, comes from a golden-red sun - everything has a rose tint to it. And in these
ah, I fear I have gone quite past a minute.
writing since 2011 · 5 entries · 3 days shown up
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the words Anna reaches for
orchestraremindsnightgoblinswoodmagicalcentersamanthacopyingbreathwhitebluedarkroseundiscoveredhands