EXERCISE Image Challenge: A Jumble of Photos #9

Discussion in 'REFINING WRITING' started by Zen, Oct 25, 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. Outside, the world is ever-changing. People are growing older. The seasons are shifting from hotheaded to cool and breezy. A chilling autumn rain prods and pokes at discarded fallen leaves and it washes away the day's dirt from this slowly spinning rock.

    Outside, time waits for no one.

    But what about inside? What about the cozy warmth found between the walls of a sturdy home? Inside, time has come to a halt, a stand-still just for those of you from beyond the fourth wall whom are looking in on this comfy little scene as you read word for word.

    Ye olde clock upon the wall claims the moment's pause lies somewhere close to a quarter to one. However, the shade of blue filtering through the rainy gloom suggests that the clock may be fibbing.

    A pitter-patter of tap dancing droplets drums steadily against the windows. Strange, considering in the dining room the fireplace's flames have paused their flickering dance, and even a stray cinder or two can best be described as currently in mid-flight. How sad it is, though, that dinner has been left untouched and is no longer steaming, the wine having breathed for far too long.

    Where are the diners, the ones who obviously had worked so hard to make such a delicious meal? Why have we been brought to this moment in time? What are we meant to witness?

    The answer, my dear friends, lies broken and bleeding on the cold concrete floor of a dark, damp basement.

    What? Did you think that the food was poisoned?
  3. “Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”
    Kahlil Gibran

    I glanced up at the clock with a weary gaze, its image burning itself into my eyes like a bad dream. It was 15 till one and the restaurant I found myself in would be closing soon. My food had long since gone cold but I couldn’t bring myself to eat. I felt physically sick, as if I had sucked down a vial of some unholy poison that consumed me from inside. My hands trembled and I tapped nervously against the tablecloth before me. Occasionally my eyes shifted and caught the look of a waiter as he passed by with a tray of dishes. I’m sure they wondered what I was doing here still after all this time. To be honest, I did too. The busker that watched over my section had long since stopped coming by me to ask if I needed anything and to be honest I was glad of it. It hurt every time I had to stomach the words that I was still waiting. Each time the words escaped my lips I could feel my body writhe from beneath a truth I knew all too well.

    She wasn’t going to show.

    I finally picked myself up from the table as somber sounds of motion echoed through the almost empty establishment. I had already paid the bill hours ago, and no one would be sorry to see me leave. The eyes of the doorman caught mine as I passed him. “Have a good evening,” he said to me, smiling from behind an oak podium. The kind used to store menus in a classy fashion. I managed a nod and stepped through the doorway, the sound of evening rain parting the transition between the dinner and the outside world.

    I took in a breath as drops seeped down my face. My eyes closed and I took a moment to just stand there. The smell was intoxicating, and reminded me of just how much I missed the storms of home. My thoughts drifted back to days long past and nostalgia seemed to collaborate with the downpour. “The smell,” She used to say, “That smell you get? The fresh rain against dry earth in the midday sun? That’s Aether, the stuff that fills the between points of the universe separating earth and heaven.”

    The hole in my chest felt that much deeper as I recalled the memory. Slowly I began to walk. I knew roughly where my hotel was and if I didn’t get started back, I’d likely find company in pneumonia. As my feet pressed through the puddles of the city, my mind continued to drift. Thoughts resting on the memories of the desert of which I had come from. A place where it never rained and the allowance that fell from the sky came in the form of ordinance left behind from the soviets of yesteryear.

    A place I’d be going back to far too soon
  4. Plot Time?!
    I dunno what this is actually.....

    Two lovers, once adored by each other
    Now bitter and hateful, their love grown distant.
    The man, feeling his lovers coldness towards him fell in love with another
    The woman was sore to the news of their split up.
    So she invited him to one last dinner, one last look on what was.
    As she cooked, poison was an added ingredient to the mix,
    That the man thought was just... drop dead delicious.
    Revealing to him that poison was in his body, he had only 24 hours to live
    Unless, he could find a clear liquid in a vile, hidden in the snowy mountains they resided on.
    He continued to search and search, until he came across the vile.
    He consumed the contents as quickly as he could, but little did he knew it was merely water.
    Feeling cocky he rose to his feet, walked a few feet
    and collapsed to the ground, the falling snow burying his dead body.
    The woman, completing her task, knocked back her own poison and waited for a worthy lover.
  5. Matthias pulled his scarf over his face as a chilling wind pierced his face like tiny little daggers. He walked down the street, brown paper bag in hand, and imagined the beautiful dinner he was going to have tonight. He had invited his girlfriend Eliza over for a romantic dinner, and he was planning on proposing that very night. As he approached his door, he plunged his hand deep in his pocket to grab his keys. They were right next to a cold diamond ring, which he planned to put in her drink.
    The lock clicked and Matthias entered his home, which had been cleaned for the first time that month. He set the brown paper bag on his dining room table and pulled out a bottle of wine that even looked expensive. After making sure that everything was simply perfect, he took a look at his old clock. He still had an hour or so to wait, so he decided to take a nap.
    Matthias awoke in a daze and stumbled off the couch. His head jerked up and he tried to focus on the clock. It was 7:00p.m. and he was supposed to have dinner at 6:00p.m. He jolted up, ran towards the phone, and quickly as he could, dialed Eliza's number.
    "Eliza, I'm so sorry!" he pleaded, "I fell asleep for too long, but I truly hope you'll still come!"
    "I'm sorry, Matthias," she sighed "but I wasn't really planning on coming anyway." Matthias didn't answer this, but he felt a lump in his throat as he continued to listen.
    "I think it's time that I said this... I just don't want to be with you anymore." He felt his heart split in two and he hung up the phone. Extremely disoriented, he shuffled down into the cellar and grabbed a bottle of rat poisoning. He brought it upstairs, looking sullen, and poured it in the wine. "At least death will be tasty." he muttered as he began to drink.