Tag Archives: story

Current State of Affairs 3/31/16

 

 Photo by: Hollie Barringer, Gulf of Mexico on the Carnival Magic
I’ve been listening the podcast Writing Excuses again and feeling somewhat guilty for lacking the focus to keep up with my writing. I’ve been able to make a few addendums to previously determined plot points in my novel. For those of you who don’t know, I’ve had this story idea for close to 8 or 9 years now and I have, admittedly, spent more time world building than actually writing scenes and dialogue to progress the overarching plot. It’s a problem. I really want to put my thoughts into words, but my focus is terrible. I’ve had much better luck with short form writing, but I definitely want to make progress on this novel idea.

One of my big excuses for awhile was that I didn’t have a laptop to work on because the hard drive crashed (don’t worry, I had my files backed up) and new computers can be pretty expensive. Writing by hand is exhausting for me because I have this ridiculous habit with a pen or pencil- I press down really hard on the paper and it literally hurts after awhile. Plus, my hand written notes tend to have an excruciating number of X’s, strikethroughs, margin annotations and revisions that make the legibility subpar. I can say, however, these are really poor excuses. The good news is that I finally ordered a new laptop and it arrived two weeks ago. I’ve got Word installed and I’m prepared to start organizing my timeline of events again because a lot has changed since I first conceived this story idea. My protagonist’s goals have changed drastically and her companion no longer plays the same role I first imagined for him. One major change that I’m quite proud of is that I realized I fell into the grasp of a common trope: the love triangle. I absolutely abhor love triangles as they never end satisfyingly. There are always hurt feelings or resentment and a sense of missing closure. I personally try to avoid these situations in literature, film, and in every day life. My solution isn’t clever, but it’s effective and necessary. I eliminated a useless character and introduced a much more interesting character and by changing the original role idea for one of my main characters I eliminated any conflicts with love rivalry and made a more realistic connection between my characters. Primarily, I wanted to avoid the dissonance of a love triangle from overshadowing the main plot. I felt that while character relations are essential to telling this story, any romantic drama is excessive. It’s a fantasy story, so the main plot is centered on a larger, world-changing scheme.

I also managed to solidify the main POV characters,  identify all secondary characters, and even eliminate a few other unnecessary roles to reduce issues with continuity, focus, and problem solving. Aside from tweaking my timeline, I need to settle on my paragon heriarchy and start writing some fleshed out scenes because I believe I’ve sufficiently pieced together enough world building material for a stand alone novel.

In other news, doctors have confirmed that the right side abdominal pains I’ve been getting since last year are because I have gallstones. I’ll be having a quick outpatient  surgery soon, and a week off of work following that, which might give me some much needed time to coordinate my thoughts regarding the direction of my story. I’m surprisingly not concerned about the procedure. I’m just ready to get back to my life because shortly thereafter my other half is coming to visit for a couple weeks. I am beyond excited! This will be his first time in Texas and I cannot wait to introduce him to my friends and family. I have plans to try and visit him again before the years end, assuming work is kind to me.

I hope everyone is doing alright and has enjoyed the start of the new year with spring in full swing and summer on the way. Feel free to leave comments, ask questions, or bug me. I’m always looking to make conversation 🙂

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The Window Perch

Awakened by the squabble of ravenous gulls, cries of laughter and ocean breeze, I find myself drawn to your window perch. In truth it’s only a sill now, empty with chipped paint and splintering seams.

As color sets over the western horizon I realize how long I’d slept, how much time I’d lost trying to remember you. It was only six months ago when rode your bike past my beach-side loft, but lately it felt like time was standing still.

I’ll never forget when you stumbled onto my yard for the first time, with your aviator sunglasses and a Star Wars bag slung from one shoulder. You looked like trouble right from the start, but something about you already had me caught hook, line, and…

You’d wanted directions. I remember almost laughing aloud at that. You said you were looking for the Elton John concert, the gig not even two blocks down. All I did was point. I’ll likely never know what piqued your interest, but the next day you appeared on my doorstep again.

I caught myself smiling when I opened the door to find that it was you. “Lost?” I quipped smartly. “Not anymore.” You assured, matching wit for wit without the slightest hesitation. That was one of the things I loved most; you were so easy to talk to.

I had thought you a tourist, here for a week and gone the next. But it wasn’t for a few days that I became aware that you had family here, and that you’d be staying for the entire summer. It was just long enough to get to know you and short enough to leave me wanting.

We grew comfortable with one another and I welcomed your presence around my little place, a two-story loft with barely enough living space to accommodate one- but we made it work. I miss the mornings when I’d awaken to a soft tapping, open my eyes and see you perched on the sill of my window. “Hey you.”

When I was a young girl I had always imagined a happiness like that. A walk hand in hand, ice cream cones dripping into the sand. Jamming to red hot chili peppers on the drive to nowhere, stolen moments around corners and behind closed doors.

I often remember those days like a dream that may or may not have happened, a fond memory.

 

Written By: Hollie Barringer, 2015

 

 

Brainstorming

Woohoo! Back to writing! Over the years I have often wondered how others brainstorm for their stories because my ideas tend to come sporadically and in the form of a jumbled mess in serious need of untangling. I do not outline everything, but I do enjoy concise lists that I can revisit for important points at a later date. There is little method to my madness and I am awfully inconsistent, but that works for me. However, I find that exploring other peoples methods tend to help create new ideas and better organize the globs of inspiration thrown my way. Outlines, lists, character profiles, chapter-by-chapter construction, and various other approaches are a few of the many ways I’ve seen authors go about their writing. So let’s talk about my method.

As I said I can be inconsistent with ordering, but I still follow a basic rhythm for developing my stories. It begins with one small detail such as the color of the sky, a haze of fog in the early morning, a windblown tree, a mysterious character walking down the street, or even an imaginary (perhaps ridiculous) event taking place before my eyes. 

I have compiled a list for your consideration when you begin developing characters in your story. I suggest you do the list in top-to-bottom order because the uppermost decisions can help you with a name at the end.

  • Age, Gender
  • Profession (if any)
  • Personality trait(s)/flaw(s)
  • Opinions of other characters?
  • Opinions region/kingdom?
  • Opinions of universal laws?
  • Unique character qualities?
  • Name

Sample Characters

Character 1 – Sci Fi, Otherworldly

  • 27 Female
  • Guardian
  • Passive-Aggressive; Confident
  • Disdain for her superiors; Enjoys the company of a particular ship Captain
  • Hates living on spacecraft for any length of time; Prefers her time-off
  • Universal Laws are an inevitable source of discomfort in her life; disdain for the society she is part of
  • Despite extremely advanced healing technology, she has a scar that will not mend
  • Irelia Farrenon

Character 2 – Dark Fantasy

  • 45 Male
  • Royal Painter/Sculptor
  • Selective mute; entirely rational 
  • Undecided/emphemral opinions 
  • Loyal to the Kingdom
  • Universal laws are logical 
  • Carries around a bag of colored marbles so seemingly no purpose 



Other considerations for your story should include:

  • How do your characters relate to the world or setting you’ve created?
  • What separates your world/characters from others?
  • Look for loopholes to your plans
  • Question the motive(s) for your plot(s). Is it realistic?
  • Find alternatives

Swing

A work in progress

I’m soaring into a vast sea, propelled by an unseen force, where there are hues of blue and sunset orange pasted across the expanse. When the wind blows past so too do little whipping strands, around my cheeks and across my forehead. They sting, but I like it. Each time I begin to fall, backwards into a deep-worn rut, I am assaulted by a discomfort in my stomach but instead of fear there is thrill. Up on the ridge to the right lies the ruins of an old burned house where once there were daisies grown in the window and smoke seeping from the stack. Off to the left there sat a field of overgrown green and colorful ribbons strung this way and that. The grass was as tall as I’d ever seen it and I wondered where the cattle ran off to. Down the little road there used to be a maroon wagon with chipped paint and a squeaky wheel. At the top of the world I could always see it, half-buried beneath a heap of wildflowers, but today it was gone.

Things seemed different, but then they weren’t. Scorched marks, tall grass, and the missing plaything made little difference as I flew across my familiar world while memories continued to stir. The air smelled better up top than it did down below as if something about being in the clouds was more right than anything else. But it never stayed as simply clouds and sweet memories. Eventually- and much to my dismay- I always came back down in the end. Back to a broken home, an abandoned field, and the bitterness of knowing that this place would never again be as it once was. Home would never be right again, this I knew, but even back then nothing felt more right than holding fast to that rubber ring; nothing compares to that old tire swing.

Daily Prompt [One at a Time]

Write something using only single-syllable words? Tough! This is all I’ve got!

A man pulls up to a bar,
Sees’ a cop, a drunk, and a car.
Words were heard, most were slurred, and the drunk threw up like a star. “Aw, man. Look what ya did! My car, you fool! You threw up on my car!”
It took him a sec, but the drunk did turn and point at a sign with big bold words: “Your car” it read.

“Look, see here? My car, it says. You must be as drunk as me!”

I think I did it. Lame story, I know!

World of Magic

Prompt: World of Magic – 568 years have passed since the Dark Lord was felled by the Chosen One. Since those times, the wizarding world has known change. The Ministry- an institution created to govern the world of magic- has fallen. As such, no rules bind the realm of magic. Tell this story. ***Note: This world was created by J.K. Rowling, the same universe where Harry Potter exists except it takes place in the far away future. It’s NOT my world, but the characters are originals from me. It is not an original universe and thus was merely for literary fun and experience. Fan-fiction may seem like a sour word to some writers, but I assure you that it is only as bad as you make it.***

After a good nights sleep, the first of many I’ve had in awhile, I am feeling brave and have decided to share an excerpt of my submission for this particular contest prompt. Perhaps brave isn’t the right word, but at any rate here goes!

The old alley lay abandoned beneath layers of dust and rubble strewn into wide paved streets. Where there had once been flourishing shops, now lingered dismal shells and vague remnants of what used to be. Much of what remained was without magic. Wands, brooms, and tomes were long since collected or pilfered. It began as a movement called Obliteration- the last act of the Ministry before its fall nearly eight years ago- and it was only the beginnings of what had become a failed struggle to reclaim anonymity in a world shared by humans and creatures of magic.

“Fan out! I want every square inch of this place covered. No one’s going home until she’s found.”

The order came from Warden Reynolds, a woman of short stature and even smaller personality. She wore a permanent scowl and dressed in the standard uniform that every warden was issued to wear by mandate- only hers was adorned with black and white cords over her left shoulder and golden pins above her breast. Each pin marked an achievement but the cords signified her infamous prowess and served as a silent warning- Auror slayer.

From behind Frestone’s Furnishing’s front desk, the cramped nook stagnant and suffocating, Ila heard footsteps clambering over potsherds and splintered beams. They approached the antique store with avid energy. Panic coursed through her veins, followed by a wave of nausea. She choked back a moan of discomfort and scrambled across the dusty floor with her little sister close behind.

In her haste, Ila nearly ran nose first into a looming clothes closet. She paused a moment, something about the black-stained cabinet captivating and familiar. Could it be? In the midst of curiosity and lost thought, Frestone’s shop bell jingled suddenly. Ila’s heart skipped. Her mind began to race, a chaotic storm of fear and resolve warring against each other. She knew that the cabinets required nurturing, but the process took weeks and time was not on her side. Ila wasn’t even certain that it was a true vanishing cabinet. They will connect somewhere, somewhere safe, she assured her worried heart. Ila let her gaze fall to glance behind her. Ila could barely mouth a word, live.

She opened the cabinet and ushered her little sister inside with tears trailing runnels down her dirt-smeared cheeks. In the midst of unspoken grief shared between the siblings something flew across the room in their direction. The impact sent a shelf of candles flying in all directions. Without hesitation, Ila slammed the cabinet closed and whirled in a blaze of protective fury. She was wandless and unable to direct her counter attack with power or precision, but a broken mirror that lay shattered upon the floor caught her eye. Focused attention levitated shards of glass and sent them hurtling toward her aggressors. It was enough to give her a moments breath before bolts of energy exploded like fireworks throughout the shops interior.

They were subjugators; witches and wizards who supported the muggle cause to control magic- only control meant slaughter or imprisonment.  In some ways, Ila did not blame them. Humans had earned the right to fear magic. It had been 8 years since the fall of the Ministry. Ila had been too young to remember the first years of turmoil; there had been no time to adjust and everyone was caught in the midst. Her parents had fallen like the rest who opposed the change; they refused to give up the life they always wanted for their daughters and paid the price. Since that day, she had witnessed carnage and atrocities too unfathomable for words. There were no more schools. Magic was used freely by young and old alike- carelessly. A score of public figures in the wizarding world took turns rising to assert their own rule, foolishly believing they could turn the power struggle in their favor, but in the end they were just one more reminder of naïve we’d been; a reminder that we could not control our own. Our kind is self-destructing and there is no one to blame but ourselves.

She closed her eyes, wishing for a storm. Still air began to creep across the floorboards in a steady flow, and then rose like a tidal wave, exhausting its strength as a battering force. An invisible tendril snapped like a whip, flinging a wand far out of reach. For the moment it felt as if things were turning in their favor, but just when her confidence began to surface, it was suddenly stripped away. The energy in the room died away and Ila resigned to defeat at the stabbing point of a wand at her throat. Reynolds got the jump on her- manipulative and cunning, witch.

“Game over.”

With the subjugator’s recovered, Ila was surrounded by poised wands. Warden Reynolds squatted down to take Ila’s jaw in her hands. Her grip was unkind as she pulled Ila’s face close to observe her with cold measuring eyes. The moment stretched on until the warden rose, taking a step back to look around. She eyed the clothes closet and just before her eyes drifted away, they narrowed. An unsettling suspicion began to gnaw on her. She looked down at Ila, searching for an answer to the unspoken question. Where did you hide the girl?

“Open the cabinet. Slowly.”

The subjugators did as they were told; a putrid smell emanated from within the furnishing. Warden Reynolds immediately registered a large mass piled beneath folds of a blanket in the centre and stepped in for a closer look. She reached in tentatively to pull back the corner folds. Mangled Flesh and Bones. Reynolds almost visibly balked, almost. She dropped the cloth hastily then moved a short distance across the room, as if simply looking away would rid her of the smell. After a moment she turned to Ila, whose horror had turned her skin pale, and smiled.

Moon Party Submission

Prompt: Moon Party – There is a party taking place on the moon, and everything is “going bananas”.

This was by far my least favorite of the contest prompts, but it still held a merit of potential. We had to include the specific phrases: “Party on the Moon; Everything’s going bananas”, “K, like potassium”, “Hey look, math! … and feta!”. We also had to include one monkey, and one balloon in the story. It was a sort of odd collection of submissions. I wrote an essay-style story from the perspective of a student writing an assignment for school. It depicts one view of educational/social systems, highlighting the life of a victim of abuse. It was not written for a specific instance of injustice, but it’s interpretation (I believe) is loose enough to encompass a wide range of people. Looking back, I now feel that it holds some value- especially after the recent chaos across the nation.

Remember, I wrote this as if you were a teaching reading a students essay. The formatting is a bit off as I intended for the essay itself to be hand-written and for notes or strike-through’s marked in red pen.  An additional, missing portion of this story is the grade Emar received. In the top right corner of the paper there is supposed to an image of a circled “B+” in red ink. After you read through you might wonder why the kid got a high B. Interpret that how you will. Feel free to offer any criticisms of your own. This prompt wasn’t something I felt I did well on, but the overarching theme (discrimination and bullying) is something I am strongly against.

Name:  Emar Daher

Period:  ?

Date: April-something-th

Essay Topic: What do you think of the education system in effect today?

You may believe in what you are doing, you have that resolve and constitution. Though, I think it is safer to say you are simply weak, scared to try and even think. Nothing here will ever be pure whilst you bathe in muddy waters and wipe your feet inside the door.

Hey look, Education! There is math, science, and social exploitation. K is the element Potassium, P is Phosphorous, and C is Carbon, but KPC means keeping parents clueless, which is why at the end of the day, your resources and efforts leave you useless.  No one outside knows why we hide, behind these walls of brick and stone, you are the only ones who know that we’re truly alone.

The rich enjoy their dainty treats… feta, and fine aged wine, while the poor wallow in the broken streets searching for a dime. Just last week I witnessed something worse, my brother’s name cursed as fists and feet buried him deep- almost to the hearse…

Here we’re supposed to be equal, learning at your pace and striving to be worthy of contributing to this free society, yet they don’t respect me anymore than you respect yourself for allowing their indiscretions.  Is it my skin? No, you liberated the blacks. It must be my sin, the hungering mar scarring the tracks.

Freedom is to me, as a balloon is to the monkey- foreign and just beyond reach. I doubt we will ever be that lucky. We live in a world where logic and reason are thrown out the window. Everything is going bananas, I can’t even tell who the monkey is and who understands this. I’d rather exist in a place far away, away from this torment that follows each day. A party on the moon, that’s what I want; just me and my brethren, and no more abuse-riddled taunts.

So fuck your essay, this is a waste of my time. I’d rather be crawling and searching for that dime, because money talks in ways that you can’t. One day I’ll have my party on the moon, but until then I guess I’ll settle for you.

Winter Break? Again?

You can always tell when winter or summer break is here; I immediately flock to this blog like a child with a new toy, and for some reason I have an insane amount of motivation to write- about everything.

I want to share a few stories or at least excerpts from the writing contest I was part of; a few submissions I was more proud of than others and some I did poorly on with the feedback I received from my peers. I will post them individually with the prompt theme at the header. Currently, the contest is on a sort of hiatus because we’re all getting really busy. Hopefully it can resume once things settle down. If not, or regardless, I would like to invite any who might be interested. We do have a website on shivtr, although the site is designed for gaming guilds it still provides a forum for direct contact and makes replying easier than emails. Right now it’s not in contest mode. I’m using it to post random prompt ideas and it’s open for sharing original works for peer review. One of the things we encourage most is discussing likes and dislikes, sharing criticisms and also reasoning for why we wrote something the way we did. Sometimes our writing can make sense to us, but not to others. I cannot speak for everyone, but exchanging critiques has helped me identify some of my faults in writing; its a really great tool. Until we get more active members it’s share at your leisure (prompt ideas or actual stories) and those of us that log in occasionally can read and share feedback! You can contact me here for a link to the site. Content is member-only and cannot be viewed externally. Also, the application is as simple as a name (most of us use gamer-tags) and a simple “why are you here?”.

In other news, I have discovered a fascinating interest in reading about the lives of others. I was never really drawn to non-fiction or history in grade school, but as of late the human perspective is especially intriguing and I find myself delving into stories of the lives of people from all over the world. It’s a wash of culture, spirit, love, tragedy, and longing- truly compelling and I find myself in awe of all that I do not know. I think they call this revelation, but whatever it is I love it.

Prompt Ideas

As promised, a short list of prompt ideas, in no particular order, from the writing contest I was part of. For those reading about this for the first time, I was part of a writing contest among close friends. Each week or so we would have the winner of the previous contest determine a new prompt for the group along with deadline and any restrictions including page/word limits, tense, and other restrictions. We learned that heavy restrictions are a creative way to encourage diversity in our writing styles, but it also limited us greatly in some situations. I will present the prompts we’ve written for without restriction and I hope at least one of them is an inspiration to anyone who might read this!

Fantasy – You are a mythical creature. Mortal humans have breached your world for the first time, and their reactions to your kind and others of your world are wildly varying from disgust and fear, to awe or even curiosity. How have they come to be here, and what is your experience upon meeting them for the first time?

Sleepless – You can’t sleep. What’s keeping you up at night?

Horror Story – This can be creepy, scary, disturbing, or a combination.

I did not write for this prompt because horror stories are not really my thing. When I think scary, I think graphically and realistically and I did not feel any sort of inspiration or attraction to a story in likeness to that. Others might be scared of the dark, or clowns, but I simply don’t find those stories particularly scary.

Power Child – It appears that upon turning (choose an age) you develop superpower. Explain how it has, will, or is changing your life. Good or evil. Common or one of a kind. Write this story.

We suggested to avoid cliches and for this one. My brothers prompt was my favorite because he used a historical event in American history and chose an ability in likeness to teleportation. The story was moving, well-rounded, and open for more! I wrote a sort of Goosebumps style story where there were alternative endings and the reader was able to choose which major actions the character makes to change the outcome of the story. I went a little crazy with this one and tried to create a very elaborate mind-game out of it. Aside from the page limit hampering my ability to flesh out details and rising action, I also took it a bit far and it probably came off a little on the mental side of things…

Unfinished Business – Write a story about unfinished business. This can be any number of things, from filling a quota at work, illegal business, to personal relations.

World of Magic – 568 years have passed since the Dark Lord was felled by the Chosen One. Since those times, the wizarding world has known change. The Ministry- an institution created to govern the world of magic- has fallen. As such, no rules bind the realm of magic. Tell this story. ***Note: This world was created by J.K. Rowling, the same universe where Harry Potter exists, except it takes place in the far away future. It is not an original universe and thus was merely for literary fun and experience. Fan-fiction may seem like a sour word to some writers, but I assure you that it is only as bad as you make it.***

I may share an excerpt I wrote for this prompt in the future because I really enjoyed writing characters in this world and received a lot of positive feedback from it. This prompt was a learning experience for me because I think I realized that setting establishment is so so important and probably something I lacked in earlier submissions.

Virtual Rescue – Someone you know gets sucked into a video game of your choice and becomes trapped inside. You must become part of the game and save him/her! But what will you encounter to do so? How will you enter the game? ***This prompt idea was particularly fun for me. I did not come up with it but I had gotten a few ideas after watching Sword Art Online for the first time, a week or so prior. I had this grand idea to write about getting trapped inside World of Warcraft, but the amount of detail I was aiming for put me way over the word limit and I decided to change last minute to a simpler game: Asteroids. Yeah, it doesn’t sound like the most interesting of games to get trapped inside and I think my journal-entry-style writing made that perfectly clear. It’s certainly not my best writing, but it was a fun side-trip from what I am used to.***

Beauty – Use figurative language and detailed descriptions to illustrate beauty or something beautiful.

A really pleasant prompt that sent me out of my way to learn new vocabulary and write scenes depicting something otherworldly.

It’s History – Rewrite a story from history with an interesting twist.

The example given for this prompt was: Anne Frank actually killed the nazi’s that found her and escaped.”

Senseless – Write a story about anything, but you have lost one of your five senses.

Although my writing quality for this submission was severely lacking, I really enjoyed this prompt. The concept of losing one of the five senses was inspiring to me because a loss like that would create a myriad of obstacles and thus providing a strong basis for building character development. I think if I had a chance to rewrite this I would probably change the plot to give the story a more simple focus, and this time ignore the word limit because it prevented me from fleshing out the protagonist.

Moon Party – There is a party taking place on the moon, and everything is “going bananas”.

This was by far my least favorite of the prompts, but still held a merit of potential. Overall, I would say that my writing quality was hampered because the restrictions were too disabling for my creative mind. We had to include the specific phrases: “Part on the Moon; Everything’s going bananas”, “K, like potassium”, “Hey look, math! … and feta!”. We also had to include one monkey, and one balloon in the story. It was an odd collection of submissions anywhere from a God teaching Russian-speaking monkeys (at least I think it was Russian?)…something, to the story of a band, an essay for class, and a children’s story. I think of all the submissions, the children’s story was my favorite. I wrote the essay-style story from the perspective of a student writing an assignment for school. It depicts one view of educational/social systems, highlighting the life of a victim of abuse. It was not written for a specific instance of injustice, but it’s interpretation (I believe) is loose enough to encompass a wide range of people. Looking back now I feel that it holds some value- especially after all of the recent chaos.

Deathclock – Write a story in a world where every person on earth knows the exact date they will die, and that date never fails. However, there is an exception. You.

I absolutely loved this prompt; it was one of my favorites by far and I think several others can agree that this was a pretty cool concept and gave us a lot of inspiration. My submission was about a girl who

Triple Perspective – Write stories from three witnesses (of different perspectives) of a single illegal or paranormal activity.

I did not write for this one due to time constraints with my classes, but the submissions I read were pretty interesting.

Serial Killer – You are a notorious serial killer in your prime. You’ve never been caught, but you’re getting a little bored. You want to retire, but before you do so you want to have one last spree.

The submissions for this prompt were interesting to read because each story was wildly different in terms of character. One of the submissions was from the perspective of a mad man- truly insane in every sense of the word. Of course, that’s the mentality you’d expect from a serial killer, but the varying degrees of insanity were compelling because it illustrated the complexity of the human mind. Each submission conveyed the manner in which we perceived the mind of a serial killer which was, to my mind, a sort of unique experience.

Medieval – Something unnatural in the forest.

This was the first prompt we wrote for. It was very open with little restriction, but it had to take place in a medieval setting and revolved around something unnatural in the forest. There were stories about dragons, hallucinogenic herbs, a multi-perspective narrative of family feuds and betrayal, as well as an exceptional poetic prose telling the tale of Peter Defeator and Blu of the Lou (you might see where this is going). Suffice it to say that none of us were expecting a poetic tale for a first-time entry, delivered as eloquently as a bard which was especially fitting for the chosen theme, and yes- he earned the first win of the contest.

A Passage In Time

Written and Photographed By:

Hollie Barringer, 2014

_MG_1541

The girls silhouette became a fading, distant memory. A red rose and stained satin scarf were all that lingered from her past life. Echoes of a time not yet forgot.

A cascading flow of raven black hair lay askew across twining roots and a bed of fallen leaves, the spirit broken by deaths cold grasp. Her fragile body lay sprawled under the weeping willow whose false mourning mocked the tragedy that was her demise.

A still pool of glimmering water rippled reflexively at the touch of a fallen leaflet and the stagnant air grew restless, carrying with it scents of moss and lichen.

Glistening crystals fluttered down from the blue above to embrace the world with an icy kiss and return the warmth to its slumber.

Time passed and the girl became white, her silhouette becoming a fading distant memory. A black rose and a faded satin scarf were all that lingered from her past life. Echoes of a time almost forgot.

A cascading flow of stark white hair lay askew across twining roots and a bed of fallen leaves, the spirit transcendent of deaths cold grasp. Her lifeless body lay sprawled under the weeping willow. The willow stood vigil, in somber remembrance.

The still pool of frozen water was unmoved with it’s heart secluded from the warmth of the sun and the air was crisp but gentle, carrying with it hollow sounds and tasteless flavors.

Bright rays filtered down from the blue above to embrace the world with a heavenly glow and return the chill to its slumber.

Time passed and the girl became dust, her silhouette a fading distant memory. A withered rose and a tattered scarf were all that lingered from her past life. Echoes of a time long since forgot.

© 2014- Intellectual Property of Hollie Barringer.