Image Challenge: A Jumble of Photos #5

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Zen, Sep 26, 2012.

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  1. Here is a collection of photos found across the internet that I randomly 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. Logan discarded his petite cigarette as he walked the moist streets of New York, he grabbed his lighter and flipped it open, illuminating the darkness that devoured the streets, he stared at the sky, the dark clouds loomed above him and hid the shining full moon.

    "Three blocks away from the train station...." he muttered to himself, he caught sight of a nearby feline- bared its white fangs at Logan, who responded with a stomp towards the creature's direction, sending it running and Logan chuckling in satisfaction. At last, he arrived at the shop he awaited to visit all these years of service, the single shop that withstood the test of time and change, never bending to giving up or quitting.

    "The Hyacinth....." Logan thought "its still open after all these years......" he noticed a small pot for three sunflowers, they just stood in place, immobilized and still, Logan approached the doorknob but was suddenly halted by mixed fear and anxiety, something he didn't anticipated, something he tried to avoid and something he didn't ask for.


    "What.....?" Logan thought, he discarded fear and replaced it with courage, he opened the door and found sorrow.
    "Oh!" a female smiled "I'm sorry- we're closed for now, I can sell you flowers tomorrow though"
    "Viola? Do you remember me?"
    "Logan?" Viola's smile broadened as Logan removed his cap.
    "It is you!" she laughed, she hurried to embrace him but Logan's eyes were fixed forward- at the source of his sadness, a man sitting next to Viola.
    "Hello there" the man greeted.
    "Hey" Logan replied with a dull tone, he wanted to express his feelings but they failed to be categorized as civilized and mature.
    "That's right Logan, you haven't met Michael? He's my teacher for the violin- we met a year ago" she smiled kindly, Logan frowned and sighed deeply before looking away to hide his feelings but Viola caught wind of his sudden depression.
    "What's wrong Logan?"
    "Nothing- it's...... it's nothing..... just came to say hi" he smiled weakly, Viola took his fake feelings and sat back next to Michael.
    "Good- I don't want you upset Logan- after all the things you did in the war? And to come home depressed? You should be happy you came back alive!"
    Logan sighed again "I guess..... listen, I have to go now" he hastily turned and grabbed the doorknob before a sting of irritation got him directly to his nerves.
    "Aw, so soon? Please sit down and join us!" Michael suggested, Logan tilted his head to the left.
    "No thank you- I have to go somewhere....."
    "Okay then- swing by any time to see us if you like" Michael smiled, Logan kept his feelings to himself and kept his cool.
    "I...... I will......"
    "See you Logan!" Viola giggled as she snuggled next to Michael, who in return kissed her dearly on her rosy cheek.
    Logan went outside before slamming the door shut, he waited- he waited for a gust of wind to blame to hide his immaturity.
    "Damn it......" he breathed, Logan gritted his teeth to the point that people noticed his seeping anger but a drizzle covered his fury from being discovered, pedestrians started to seek shelter from the falling water droplets but not Logan- he stood firmly at the front of the shop, unflinching and unwavering.
    "DAMN IT!" he yelled as he smashed the nearest flower pot with his closed fist, the unlucky sunflower that lived inside dropped down as the soil started to moisten- he watched the three sunflowers sink in rich soil, except for one stem who began to fall while the other two stood together as one.
    Logan stared at the single flower "You're just like me...... the third wheel......" he felt sorry for the plant and dug it out of it's lonely plantation, he headed across the street and planted it firmly.
    "There- you shall grow into a beautiful flower, soon you will have many friends surrounding you....." he smiled at the plant before leaving.
    Logan returned home only to find a small letter in his doorstep, a letter, an invitation for lunch with one of the female nurses who patched him up in the war.
    "At least someone remembers me....." he chuckled, he opened the wooden door and closed it behind him.

    Every now and then Logan would take a walk to the Hyacinth, to check his little friend, only to find two flowers side by side- he would check up on the plant every week, every passing day made the plant grow stronger- soon, it grew strong enough to withstand the test of time, never bending to giving up.

    Note: This is my first one- hope I didn't do bad :)
  3. 3. English wasn't comin' to me at the moment, the poem kinda' came out in my weird amalgam of languages/made-up language. Stress falls on to second to last syllable unless noted with an acute or grave accent mark. Tildes over vowels mean to nasalize them. Other than nasals, think of Italian for pronunciation, except rolled r's at the beginning of words. If you see a word end in a vowel and the next word begin with that same vowel, don't pronounce the vowel twice, just make the vowel of the next word last longer (elision). A translation is included afterward.

    Dansa’na empesasti,
    Comme violoni me tocasti,
    Bayo soli blu e in agri floradi,
    Comme violoni Rêvi Verdanti,

    Se fuyó calori de veranu,
    Adora ame i silensciu,
    Me yenã, gote,
    Adora bale i lágrime,

    Ma no tentasti,
    De me tocari,
    Ma no existía ano calori;
    Yamé era Veranu.
    You started the dance,
    Like a violin you played me,
    Under the blue sun and in the flowery fields,
    Like a violin Verdant Dreams,

    Summer's heat left,
    Now rain and silence,
    Filled me, drops,
    Now bullets and tears,

    But you didn't try,
    To play me,
    But that heat didn't exist;
    There was never Summer.​
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