Inspired by the thoughts of another
Feb. 15th, 2006 11:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessI read something on someone's journal (who will remain nameless unless said otherwise) that suddenly fired part of my mind and I had to steal and run with it.
It's frustrating. I have an image of this in my head but I CANNOT force it into words. I don't know why and it's driving me mad. The words just won't do as they're told, damn it.
Anyway, this is what I have. Perhaps others can see where I took a wrong turning. I think it's because it's sporadic - I wrote it over several days rather than in one setting.
He could feel them all around him, dancing in the shadows set by the streetlights, flitting back and forth as cars passed, their headlights making the night move and dance and play. He could hear them in the dark, a thrill of music, a rustle of wings, a click of claws and the clack of hooves. They were loud enough that they seemed to echo up and down the silent street and so quiet that he had to strain his ears just to catch the faint suggestion of noise.
As a mass they followed him and his companions across the street. They were heavily cloaked in shadows and darkness and the normality that permeated everything in the world, but for eyes that could see you could look beyond - there was a hint of pointed ear, there a suggestion of hair that flowed like water, there the shadow of a wing, there an eye that gleamed in colours no mortal eye could hold, there skin that shone without light. He nodded to them as they reached the door. It was a simple, ordinary door, well tended but old, and exactly like the doors on the all the houses up and down the street. it was almost stunning in it‘s mundanity.
He smiled and the door swung open, untouched by any hand. The hallway within was normal and a little neglected. Well maintained but by people who had more important things to deal with than hallways, again a room that can be found in just about any home on the continent. There was a hush of conversation from down the hall. It blended oddly with the music just beyond hearing and seemed to emphasise rather than drown out the laughter that danced in the corners of the room.
He turned to one plain door among many, gently willing it open without pausing in his stride. The room beyond was as ordinary as the rest of the house. The ethereal music and unearthly laughter that flowed into it seemed grossly out of place among these ordinary surroundings, like a splash of colour in a black and white photo, a thrill of jungle drumming in a classical piano recital, a laugh in a church and sex in a graveyard. Something beautiful and wonderful and strange and new and so very out of place.
There were several people in the room, varying in age from an old lady sat in her chair through to a young babe still cradled by her mother. Their eyes turned as the door opened, all staring with surprise and a little fear. None of them heard the music or the laughter. None of them saw the little ones that danced or the lights that painted the walls with fantastic colours. None of them saw the wings or the hair or the pointed ears. Eyes dulled by an iron world with iron dreams, they saw only a tall man dressed in mundane black.
Then the old lady smiled, a soft laugh escaped her lips. Her hair was as white as the snow outside. her face was deeply seemed by the passage of years. The stick by her side told of the pressures time had put upon her tired limbs and old bones. Her family around her paused, confused by the old one’s laughter.
She raised her head. Eyes that should have grown cloudy with years burned and sparkled, reflecting the colours on the wall, dancing with the music and sparkling with her own musical laughter. She saw. She saw the wings and the lights and the colours. She saw the pointed ears and alien eyes and the immortal’s dance. She heard the musical chimes and the bright laughter and rich singing.
He bowed, feeling his companions behind him bowing with him. He had not doubted, not truly, but it was still a surprise and a shock to see one blessed with such glamour, such power, such wonder. So rare now, so very rare.
He straightened gracefully and reached out one hand to the woman. One of the women in the room moved as if to stop him, but one of his companions flowed between them. A simple touch on her arm and a small shake of his head and the woman stepped back, held by forces she couldn’t understand. The old woman pulled herself to her feet and gave the young woman a reassuring smile. She walked with a vigour that belied her age as she headed to the door, pausing only for a quiet and heartfelt goodbye to her family. They looked like they would protest, but they let her go. It was time. And on some level, they knew it.
Together they walked out into the night. The near hidden ones clustered closer, dancing every nearer to the woman. She laughed with them and sang brief snatches of the songs they gave to the night. With every step she seemed to grow stronger, her step became lighter, new vitality and power seemed to burn within her. Only her eyes stayed the same, the same burning intensity of a mind that reaches far beyond the norm. She revelled, surrounded by dreams and muses and voices and imaginings and creation made flesh until it was hard to tell where the human ended and the dreams began. He turned to her, sliding his hands through hers.
“My lady artist, writer and true font of true creation, welcome home.” He whispered, bowing again over her hands.
She laughed, he looked up to meet those glamour filled eyes as she answered. “My friend, I never left and was never away.”
And they danced into the night, singing and laughing as she went home. Home to the place she had always been since the day her eyes opened and her ears heard.
It's frustrating. I have an image of this in my head but I CANNOT force it into words. I don't know why and it's driving me mad. The words just won't do as they're told, damn it.
Anyway, this is what I have. Perhaps others can see where I took a wrong turning. I think it's because it's sporadic - I wrote it over several days rather than in one setting.
He could feel them all around him, dancing in the shadows set by the streetlights, flitting back and forth as cars passed, their headlights making the night move and dance and play. He could hear them in the dark, a thrill of music, a rustle of wings, a click of claws and the clack of hooves. They were loud enough that they seemed to echo up and down the silent street and so quiet that he had to strain his ears just to catch the faint suggestion of noise.
As a mass they followed him and his companions across the street. They were heavily cloaked in shadows and darkness and the normality that permeated everything in the world, but for eyes that could see you could look beyond - there was a hint of pointed ear, there a suggestion of hair that flowed like water, there the shadow of a wing, there an eye that gleamed in colours no mortal eye could hold, there skin that shone without light. He nodded to them as they reached the door. It was a simple, ordinary door, well tended but old, and exactly like the doors on the all the houses up and down the street. it was almost stunning in it‘s mundanity.
He smiled and the door swung open, untouched by any hand. The hallway within was normal and a little neglected. Well maintained but by people who had more important things to deal with than hallways, again a room that can be found in just about any home on the continent. There was a hush of conversation from down the hall. It blended oddly with the music just beyond hearing and seemed to emphasise rather than drown out the laughter that danced in the corners of the room.
He turned to one plain door among many, gently willing it open without pausing in his stride. The room beyond was as ordinary as the rest of the house. The ethereal music and unearthly laughter that flowed into it seemed grossly out of place among these ordinary surroundings, like a splash of colour in a black and white photo, a thrill of jungle drumming in a classical piano recital, a laugh in a church and sex in a graveyard. Something beautiful and wonderful and strange and new and so very out of place.
There were several people in the room, varying in age from an old lady sat in her chair through to a young babe still cradled by her mother. Their eyes turned as the door opened, all staring with surprise and a little fear. None of them heard the music or the laughter. None of them saw the little ones that danced or the lights that painted the walls with fantastic colours. None of them saw the wings or the hair or the pointed ears. Eyes dulled by an iron world with iron dreams, they saw only a tall man dressed in mundane black.
Then the old lady smiled, a soft laugh escaped her lips. Her hair was as white as the snow outside. her face was deeply seemed by the passage of years. The stick by her side told of the pressures time had put upon her tired limbs and old bones. Her family around her paused, confused by the old one’s laughter.
She raised her head. Eyes that should have grown cloudy with years burned and sparkled, reflecting the colours on the wall, dancing with the music and sparkling with her own musical laughter. She saw. She saw the wings and the lights and the colours. She saw the pointed ears and alien eyes and the immortal’s dance. She heard the musical chimes and the bright laughter and rich singing.
He bowed, feeling his companions behind him bowing with him. He had not doubted, not truly, but it was still a surprise and a shock to see one blessed with such glamour, such power, such wonder. So rare now, so very rare.
He straightened gracefully and reached out one hand to the woman. One of the women in the room moved as if to stop him, but one of his companions flowed between them. A simple touch on her arm and a small shake of his head and the woman stepped back, held by forces she couldn’t understand. The old woman pulled herself to her feet and gave the young woman a reassuring smile. She walked with a vigour that belied her age as she headed to the door, pausing only for a quiet and heartfelt goodbye to her family. They looked like they would protest, but they let her go. It was time. And on some level, they knew it.
Together they walked out into the night. The near hidden ones clustered closer, dancing every nearer to the woman. She laughed with them and sang brief snatches of the songs they gave to the night. With every step she seemed to grow stronger, her step became lighter, new vitality and power seemed to burn within her. Only her eyes stayed the same, the same burning intensity of a mind that reaches far beyond the norm. She revelled, surrounded by dreams and muses and voices and imaginings and creation made flesh until it was hard to tell where the human ended and the dreams began. He turned to her, sliding his hands through hers.
“My lady artist, writer and true font of true creation, welcome home.” He whispered, bowing again over her hands.
She laughed, he looked up to meet those glamour filled eyes as she answered. “My friend, I never left and was never away.”
And they danced into the night, singing and laughing as she went home. Home to the place she had always been since the day her eyes opened and her ears heard.
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(no subject)
Date: 2006-02-20 01:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-05 03:38 pm (UTC)