Writing Challenge: Every Picture Tells a Story...

[Maid of Marvels]

in 100 words.

Oh, yes... we'll be counting.

So here's the deal: I will post a piece of art every week or ten days (unless the mumblings get loud and the mob starts to -- well, whatever it is that mobs do). I won't, however, tell you the name of the picture nor will I tell you the artist's name or even what museum it's in until the next picture goes up. (This way your offering will not be affected by what it's called. )

Your part in the mission, if you should decide to accept this challenge, is to tell a story, write a poem, describe the picture -- whatever it inspires you to create. Oh, yeah... Did I mention that you must do it in 100 words?

Let your imaginations soar... and have fun!

~Maid

Edited to add: Each picture I post will be for everyone to use. You don't have to post one for the next person.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

First Up:

With Halloween around the corner, I would like to borrow on Poohlive's idea to do something in keeping with this spooky day.

*unveiling the first picture*

http://www.Bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/EveryPicture1a.jpg

 

[little_golden]

Old Father O'Leary walked the worn forest path towards St. Gabrielle's. It was dawn and a foggy mist had appeared. He was shocked at the vision from our Lord.

"I see it all.... Their humility.... The holy Saints! They are calling.. .. Look two holy Apostles... fishing in the boat..... "

The old priest folded his old wrinkled hands together to pray.

"Here I am Lord..."

Quickly Father O'Leary ran to catch up with the procession of Saints. He never looked back for if he had, he would have noticed his earthly body had expired... but a new life began.

 

[msboy8]

We called them the 'Bulbs'. Not when they were near, they expected, and received, the proper reverence from us mere humans. To do otherwise would result in a grisly death. As it had been the practice since the 'Bulbs' had arrived.

One minute everything was normal, a sunny October 31st. Kids were putting the finishing touches on their costumes, adults were making sure they had enough candy to pass out. The next minute they were there, they were everywhere. Not since Freddy or Jason had there been such a fright.

Only they wern't made up and they were here to stay!

 

[Drinking Cap]

I think I quintupled the word limit but tough bananas.

The Man in the field looked annoyed. The two men in the back seemed to be purposely going slowly.

"Jerry, Neil could you please keep up? Midnight's only two hours away and we do have a schedule here."

The two men ambled up to the rest of the huddled group.

"And where are your wigs?" The two looked nervously at each other before one of them spoke up.

"We, uh, we didn't get any" the shorter of the two said

"Didn't get any?!?" The leader was shaking with rage "But we agreed!!!"

"No, you guys agreed. We still think having an apocalyptic death cult based on the teachings of Harpo Marx is ridiculous. He wasn't even the funniest marx brother."

"For god sake's guys, we discussed this, Harpo was the embodiment of our struggle and how-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah how the world silences those who speak the truth." Neil interrupted

"We still think the idea is fucking retarded. We'll look like those assclowns in Heaven's Gate" Jerry piped in

"So why are you guys even here" the leader questioned

"Well we're still down with the whole mass suicide thing."

"We're just going to do it our own way. With our own inspiration" Neil said this as he and Jerry flipped down their hoods revealing their newly shaved little black moustaches.

"Hitler?!?!?" The leader screamed "You're basing your death cult on Adolf Hitler? Find you're own suicide juice, if they find your bodies with ours we'll get the worst possible press"

Jerry and Neil looked perturbed

"Hitler?" Jerry looked shocked "This is Charlie Chaplin. See, me and Neil feel that the world silences those who speak the truth if they're before their time. Much like Charlie was forced into silence by the trappings of his time."

"Well if the basic idealogy is the same, why couldn't you go with Harpo?"

"Oh come on man, the Marx Brothers were the Adam Sandlers of their time. Chaplin was so much more bohemian." Neil pouted

"Yeah, besides those wigs really make you look like fucking clownshoes" Jerry chipped in

"Well, forget it! We can't risk people thinking you're Hitler. You guys can have your suicide pact here and The Loyal Order of Harpo will have ours by the campground under the full moon of midnight, losers!" The leader and the rest of the dark figures in puffy blonde wigs made their way into the forest.

"Hey, Jerry" Neil said as he crouched on the ground "Are we still going to kill ourselves? Cause if we are I only brought one cyanide pill" Jerry thought this over carefully as he stared at the ground.

"Ehhhh, I don't know. Those guys are kind of making the point anyways." Neil looked visibly relieved as Jerry said this.

"So then what? I didn't really have anything planned for tonight, except the suicide. Want to hit Malone's for a couple of beers?"

"Yeah, but, you know let's go back to my place first and shave. I don't want anybody thinking we're dressed up as Hitler"

 

[ozme52]

I see dead people. They're not dead yet, but if yesterday is any indication, they'll be dead by tomorrow.

It started when I was accidently knocked unconscious. When I woke up in the hospital, some of the people had strange haloes of light around their heads. Everyone of those people died.

Everywhere I go I see them. I think I should say something, tell them to have fun, make love to their husbands or wives, do something crazy....

But they wouldn't believe me and after tomorrow, it won't matter anyway.

You see, I have this full length mirror at home........

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Maybe that wasn't such a good choice?

The last painting was titled "Procession of Souls" (oil on canvas) by Louis Welden Hawkins (French, 1849-1910) and is in a private collection.

How about this one?

http://www.Bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/EveryPicture2a.jpg

 

[msboy8]

The living have been long known to seek the wisdom of the dead. It goes back centuries, but for beauty secrets?!? What would Loreal, Avon, Revlon and other houses of beauty think. Why, they would howl with indignation. They would denounce whomever suggested such a thing. And with the same breath, they would dispatch searchers to find even a morsel of truth.

What would be the price the dead would exact? Would it be worth mere mortal beauty?

Touch not her hand, I beg of you. Touch not what was once beautiful, for beauty is only passing, it must wither.

 

[msboy8]

*Bump* C'mon lets have some more stories...

 

[papillon24]

It was then that the ghost appeared. The woman sat in shock at the sight of this translucent figure pointing at her. He heart pounded and her hands shook.

The woman listened closely to the wisdom of the dead

“Listen and learn from us who have past”

The woman gasped from shock. This was almost too much to take in.

“Your time is coming, be prepared. Do not fear what is to come.”

It vanished suddenly.

She sat pondering as a chill swept through the room. She then fell to the floor…dead. Her heart stopped from shock

 

[chris2c4u]

"You won't go." Cold. Final.

Teary eyes gazed at the blue dress.

Defiantly she blurted, "Why?"

The figure flinched, making her breath freeze in her chest. The white shape looked down at her with eyes as hard as ice. Barely discernable was the image of her mother.

"Boys are bad. They only want one thing."

Looking up, the daughter held out her warm hand, to the cold echo of the gesture.

"I'm going mother."

The dream faded; it was the day of the prom. She looked at the dress she had bought secretly, smiling. She would go to the ball.

 

[QuietMom30s]

Maybe that wasn't such a good choice?

The last painting was titled "Procession of Souls" (oil on canvas) by Louis Welden Hawkins (French, 1849-1910) and is in a private collection.

How about this one?

http://www.Bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/EveryPicture4.jpg

"Grandmother, is that you?"

"Yes my precious princess, now grown into a Queen."

"Why have you come to me this night?"

"To remind you of your birthright."

"What? I rule the Land you held, sit upon the Throne you had carved.. what is it I do not know.. . ?"

"Little One, much there is that you do not know.. tonight I shall teach you.. never again will you be the woman you have become."

"Grandmother, share with me the secrets of your wisdom"

"I shall my child.. I shall.. and you will not thank me when I am done."



Edited to be exactly 100 words

 

[QuietMom30s]

ok ok.. a few more than 100 words.. but I was on a roll..


NEVERMIND.. I FIXED IT

 

[Drinking Cap]

Lady Elizabeth could scarcely believe her eyes. Panicked she pulled her hand from stroking her clit and dropped her gown, which had been bunched around her hips back to the floor. The novel of steamy literature dropped to the floor.

"Grandmother?!?" Elizabeth gasped. She had been close to that blissful peak when the apparition appeared

"Close my child" replied the haunting voice of the apparition " I am your great aunt Clara"

"Clara? Grandfather's younger sister? But you died before I was even born" Slowly the flushed woman began to regain her composure "Are you here to tell me the identity of my mother's killer?"

"No, my dear, as one of your dead relatives it is one of my ghoulish duties to watch as you pleasure yourself."

"What?"

"Supposedly it's to stop you from sinning against yourself"

"Oh. Well, I've stopped so you're free to return to the land beyond"

The old crone responded with a lecherous stare

"Oh don't be silly dear, you just finish up and enjoy yourself"

 

[QuietMom30s]

what a great thread.. thanks for starting it

QM

 

[papillon24]

Any more photos?

 

[QuietMom30s]

im willing to find one... if anyone else is game

 

[Maid of Marvels]

The last picture was titled: "The Ghost's Petition" and was painted circa 1910 by a British artist named Emma Florence Harrison who passed in the 1920's sometime. (I have no year of birth, sorry.)

I hope you liked it.

Here's a new one:

http://www.Bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/EveryPicture3a.jpg

 

[QuietMom30s]

The morning sun peeked through the dirty windows of the brothel. Her body was sore, yet her mind was clear. The smoke from her cigarette climbed in loops, as did the steam from her tea.

As the last of the patrons stumbled bleary-eyed onto the street, she smiled. In less than a month’s time, she will build up enough money to leave this whore’s life forever.

Little did she know this would be her last sun rise. Never could she have imagined the horrors of the coming night's work and its awful conclusion in a pool of her own blood.





spot on 100 words

 

[chris2c4u]

Inspector Jemkins looked in at the woman in the cells as the key was turned.

"Go on, get your things." he said. Martha sat languidly smoking before sashaying over to him and smiling. At the front desk she reclaimed her meagre belongings.

Once in the streets, busy with the clatter of horses hooves, the rumble of carts, the occasional new fangled automobile, she reached the labyrinthine back streets and the pawn shop.

She reached under her dress and pulled the jewel out from inside her. The old pawnbrokers eyes bulged. "Want to lick it clean before you value it?"

 

[QuietMom30s]

WOW

now that is a suprise erotic ending

lick lick!!!

 

[QuietMom30s]

I hope a new image is added soon



QM

 

[Maid of Marvels]

The last painting was a surprise -- far different from others that this artist is better known for, such as "The Soul of the Rose".

The artist is John William Waterhouse (British, 1849-1917) and this painting, an oil on canvas, is titled "An Eastern Reminiscence (sketch). Painted in 1874, it's located now at The Leicester Galleries, London, England.

Before I put the next one up, I wanted to say that you can still write to previous submissions -- just let us know which one it is.

This next is not a painting, but something that I think will inspire more than a few -- hopefully. And so, now, for your writing pleasure...

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v516/Maid/RailroadPostcardChris.jpg

 

[renaissanceman3]

*

 

[Graybread]

Jakes life was a shambles; his wife had run off with a salesman, fired from his job, and now the bank foreclosed on his house. Alone, desolate, could things get any worse. The gray clouds of despair hung over him.
Would he let that happened? Would he let life beat him? Probably not, it wasn’t in his nature. Because Jake believed that at the end of every road, when things seem to come to a vanishing point, there would be a new hill to climb, a new horizon to explore. Life was like that, one wondrous challenge after an other.