EXERCISE Image challenge: A Jumble of Photos # 12

Discussion in 'REFINING WRITING' started by Zen, Nov 14, 2012.

  1. Here is a collection of photos found across the internet that I put together. You can interpret them as whatever you want, whether it be literally or metaphorically. What you do as a writer is one of these three things:

    1. Create a character, taking inspiration from these photos.

    2. Come up with a setting, plot, or just a detailed post with references to these photos.

    3. Write a poem with these pictures in mind.

    Remember you don't have to use all of the photos in your final creation, but props to you if you manage to do so.

    Click on the spoiler tags to stir up your muse.






  2. [video=youtube;sMqNFAU0tOw]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMqNFAU0tOw[/video]

    "Go Hitchhiking you said... It would be Fuuuuuuuun you said..."

    My words were lost to the clatter of raindrops against the winding road. I gripped my coat tightly around my shoulders and pressed on forward against the piercing wind. Water dripped down the brim of my hat in what seemed like buckets and I was thankful for what little shielding it provided. As I shivered, my hand clenched around the handle of my guitar case trembling in unison with the rest of my body. I focused on the steps of my feet and tried to block everything out as the mindnumbing rain beat against my figure.







    Somehow I continued to place one foot in front of the other. Somehow I continued moving in a somewhat forward direction. I guess that's all that really mattered.

    It wasn't long before my ears caught the hum of an engine on the horizon. I glanced up as hope graced my mind and stuck my thumb out almost out of instinct. Sure enough, two globes of of the most beautiful light one ever did see peered down at me from a hundred yards out. I paused my stepping and hopped in place in a half hearted attempt to stay warm, praying the driver might have a heart and stop. The sound of thunder rang across the sky as those brilliant bulbs grew in size. The closer they got, the brighter they became until I could almost feel the warmth of the respite from the rain.

    At least until the vehicle passed me by.

    I stood there a moment with a touch of malice on my breath. It wasn't as if I was the only person on this strech of Godforsaken road. I grumbled out a series of curses and began my steps once more on weary feet. I tried focusing once more on the mantra from before when my ears caught a pecular sound. A voice that seemed to cut through the blinding rain like a sharpened spear through custard.

    "Why you be lookin' like you could use a ride son."

    The voice bore a refined southern ring about it. The kind you'd expect from a civil war era plantation owner, well defined but a touch of character. I jumped at the sound, having not heard anyone come up upon me or the whining of tires along the route. Slowly I turned, not entirely believing my own ears as I gazed upon the face of the man who might have well come from no where. The man sat on the hood of a flawless black Bentley without as much as a speck of dust along it's frame. A tall man with blonde hair and a lanky build, he sported a suit that much like his car reaked of money. I stood there slightly awestruck. Had I really been that out of it that I'd missed the man's arrival? There was no way. I couldn't be so tired that I missed a damn Bentley in the middle of this Godforsaken strip of road. "What the? Where did you come from?" I stammered in confusion to the tune of a wide grin made by the Southern man.

    "Oh, don't you be mindin' that any son," The tone of the man's voice bore a ring that brought every ounce of attention to his person. He was too clean. There wasn't a stich on his clothing that was out of place nor a stray hair that had gotten away from his head. "Actually been watchin' you quite a time."

    I raised a brow at the blonde man's posture. The whole scene was ominous and would have been something more fitting from an oddball Hitchcock movie. "Points for creep factor then." I mentioned as I tightened my hand on the case and began to step ahead once more. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll stick to the road I think."

    "That's a shame son," The Southern Gentleman chimed after me as I moved past him. "There's a spot about a quarter of a mile back down the road you just came from who was lookin' for a Guitar man with a hot pair of fingers to play for the night. Don't suppose you know one though."

    That caught my attention. A gig meant a place out of the rain and the possibility of a spot to stay at for the night. A plate of food and decent company wouldn't be a terribly distant thought to add either. "I might." I said sparingly as I stopped my pace once more and turned back to the wealthy man. "Though he's a touch more professional than to take a job off any old git of the side of the road."

    "Hot pair of fingers and sharp as a tack then." The suited man gave a crooked grin from the corner of his mouth. "I can cover fare but if you ain't willin' to make the trip then I suppose we're at a touch of an empass."

    "Spose you're right Mister." I was sure this was going somewhere.

    "Tell you what." The clean cut business man replied leaning forward from the hood of the Bentley. He made his way over to the driver's side of the car and opened the door. The man reached into the vehicle and removed the slim outline of a guitar case all his own. Gold inlays were set over the corners and the finish was perfectly aged leather. This man had spent a pretty penny over the years it'd seemed. "Seein's how we're at an empass and you're still standin' here I reckon you fancy yourself at least a touch interested. So tell me son, can you play that six string you're sportin', or is it just for show?"

    Now I was interested. This guy knew how to press the right buttons it seemed. "Ain't no one better Mister."

    "That's what I was hopin' you'd say son." A long grin extended from both sides of the man's lips as he set the case utop the hood of his vehicle. "Tell you what then. How bout you put your money where that mouth is. The two of us will cut heads, you on your fiddle and me on mine. If I beat you, you come with me and play a few tunes for some friends of mine. If you beat me, I'll give you this 'ol guitar, the case... Hell i'll even throw in the Bentley."

    I glanced over at the bentley and gave it a once over. Yeah I was interested. "Sounds fine Mister," I said from behind a grin of my own, "But with this rain the way it is I don't think the setting's all the best for playin'."

    A grim smile crossed the face of the suited man as I spoke. "What rain?" He asked with an eerie sense of calm about his voice.

    I opened my mouth to respond before I caught what he meant. It was no longer pouring at all. There wasn't even a cloud in the sky as the brilliant sheen of stars peered down upon us. My clothes were still wet and the ground still smelled of that after rain scent but the storm had apparently long since dried up. I couldn't have missed that, had I been so focused on this man that I'd completely dismissed the storm's end? I couldn't believe it.

    The more I looked upon the crooked smile of the man before me, the more I began to wonder if I was in over my head. I couldn't shake my interest though. Whoever this guy was, he knew how to set up a card table and make it shine. Slowly I set my battered case upon the damp road and popped the latches on it's side.

    "Looks like you have yourself a bet mister..."