I didn't really want to share my vignettes on my blog however I thought about it for a while and decided to go for it. After all this may be the first of many assignments to post and it wouldn't really achieve anything to just refuse to post them. I edited the four so read on. :3
Sea of Sonance
Happiness warming, sadness piercing my soul as waves washed over my ears. Burning cries of anger raging through the passage of my ears, completing the howling, clashing sea of sound and colour. The water calm and sweet, filled with mermaids singing of happy things and sweet loves and other dark, swirling - roaring hungrily for vengeance and howling with fiery rage.
A lone current swims quietly, weeping. Tears lost deep into the churning pools of water - making an impact; a vibration of sound and bitter tears of lost dreams. The sea is alive, thrumming with vibration, with melody, with passion yet it is not shared with anyone else - not the crowd of dark blurred figures on the far off strip of golden brown sand or the birds rising up ahead.
It is my sea of sonance; drifting farther and farther away from the people on the crowded, battered bus going steadily to the hills and further into my beautiful sea of music.
The Different Sides
Dark, haunting eyes, soft fawn-coloured fur rustling in the wind. Four white socks beautifully contrasting with the tawny pelt bristling with flaring spirit, wild as any stallion as she glides forward. Delicate, smooth paws moving willfully, purposefully without any restraint; a strut to her step and bite to her mew. She carries herself gracefully to the center of the wall; a wall of decisions and acceptance.
A snowy, wavy pelt with a silver tint, gentle observant caramel eyes flickering about languidly. Waves of polished, groomed fur with a sleek tail waving lightly in the breeze. Refined with a certain youth; gullible and sweet with an edge. An edge of complete insanity, of wildness hidden by mannering and grooming of years; an edge revealing itself while she stepped gracefully to the middle.
Browns met; two dark and wild, two calm and sweet. A moment passed, a moment of silence. The two noses touched and the two sides converged; unconsciously becoming a single cat as a click pierced the air; freezing the moment in time forever. The tool was lowered, saving it away with the other little memories and moments.
Millions of tales written on leaves. Intelligent opinions, passionate remarks, irksome stupidity. The sharing of ideas, laughter and wonderfully delightful small treasures around the world:
Beauty scattered on each bit of foliage with more arriving each day. Being a part of one of the most diverse, unique families in the world. Making yourself well known to your fellow brothers and sisters. Becoming more than the tiny, seemingly insignificant leaf on the ever rising oak tree the leaf appears to be absolutely alike to all the others perched on the branch. But if you peer closer there are differences; tiny details that make each of special and different and one day, some of those leaves will grow into magnificent, bold fronds viewed by the creatures underneath with wonder.
If you look closely, past the obvious, you will discover some of these leaves hiding in the shade. Those are just as pretty, just as unique. And those who notice the hidden finery will be attracted to it; eventually becoming attached and viewing every little step and thing it does while taking pleasure as it begins to grow. Those observers become friends or foes. They offer support but also abuse the leaves withl plucks and pecks of distaste and hate. They alone can help the leaf blossom or wither; help them rise to greater heights or cling closely to the bark.
Ink Stained Fury
The tip of the sword pierced the page as anger welled in me, blue blood spattering across the surface. It attacked; flashing in and out beginning its began its formation with an odd grace. My rage, frustration, hurt began to take shape on the companion; the sweet, mellow creature who endured the fierce assault - allowing emotions to spill out in beautiful, soft azure. Words spun their spell around the struggling sword; words soothing, words whispering. The battle continued fighting anger and trying to tame the emotion onto the palate. The fight wore on–the sword giving one more blow before withdrawing victoriously; leaving behind a beautiful mess of words depicting rage, anger and the battle won of hateful emotion.
The Right Angle
Step to the left, turn to the right. No, not too close. Not too far either. Your eyes narrow slightly, framing a mental picture in your head as you tilt the camera a little.
No! A scowl tugs at your lower lip. You stare at the ballet flat on the pillow; wasn’t it supposed to look gorgeous and creamy? The color of a blush rose, bathed in the rays of sunset? Not so ugly, grey and creased. Maybe from another angle?
Careful fingers adjust the shoe on the satiny pillow, arranging it diagonal to the window. Eyebrows furrow slightly in concentration while you duck down, holding the camera upright, a click piercing the air. You eye the screen in apprehension, touching the key hesitantly.
An image of a delicately pretty pair of flats fills the screen, bathed in fading light and seemingly aglow. A grin curls your lips, your eyes taking in your hard work with pride, seeing a little of yourself in every picture you take.