This is another prompt from earlier in the semester. My prof showed us a time-lapse video some photographers took at a fort (I think) on one of the Florida Keys. She said we could use it to inspire whatever we wanted and, as I was watching it, I started thinking about "Starry Night" and "Starry Night Over the Rhone." (Side note: if you haven't seen the latter painting, look it up. I like it way more than "Starry Night.") Anyways, here's my short piece (with a bit of editing).
Aviana felt the grass bend beneath her as
she shifted on the worn afghan she’d pulled from her parents’ cedar chest. She
breathed in the night air and gazed up. The stars moved like a Van Gogh
painting, all loops and whirls and dreams come to life. That could be a line in
a poem, she realized, and she reached for her notebook before realizing she’d
left it in Sam’s car. She clung to the words and prayed she wouldn’t forget
them.
Sam’s hand reached for hers, and she
slipped her fingers through his. The field was quiet enough that she could hear
his breaths, punctuated by insect chirps and shrieks.
Did
bugs shriek? she
wondered. There was probably a better word to describe the high-pitched noises
they made, but ‘shriek’ sounded pretty accurate.
She sighed, her shoulders relaxing. It
was good to be away from the craziness of life. She and Sam hadn’t had much
alone time lately. She scooted closer to him, and his arm moved to envelop her
shoulders.
The stars danced overhead, a private
ballet for just the two of them. A winking light, an airplane, jetéd across the
blue-black stage as delicate constellations pirouetted and performed
arabesques. The cricket orchestra could’ve been better, but Aviana didn’t want
to be anywhere else at the moment. Sam kissed her cheek, and she had a feeling
he agreed.
No comments:
Post a Comment