“Being Inspired” or “This is How I Process”

28 11 2007

A lot of the time when I have an excess of pent-up feelings, I draw or write to get my brain back in shape. It’s sort of like (pardon the analogy) popping a blister. You get all the ‘stuff’ out of the way so you can get on with business.

Today I drew something in my sketchbook and wrote this as a caption.

“At the end of the world are broken statues and stunted trees. There are ruined watchtowers, too, and broken bridges. And though those ends are found in high places, there are higher places still.

An eternity looms and the horizon beckons. Voices fall silent- there is no-one there to speak- and the universe echoes the starlight.

An end is merely a place to begin.”

Not bad for half an hour’s worth of work and only a few songs on my iPod’s ‘shuffle’.

I am going to write something here that will, hopefully, entertain. If nothing else it will provide something new genre-wise for my audience to read.

She watched him with the corner of her eyes only. In this way she was able to keep him always in sight and yet present as little of a threat as possible. He hated to be looked at and she had been here long enough to know that. Being able to react a half second more quickly was not worth the chance of his rage being unleashed. He was far quicker than her anyway.

His movements were predatory and smooth as he paced the far side of the room, pausing now and again to gaze out of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The evenings were often spent like this, her standing stiff and tense to one side while he mused.

With one swift sideways movement he approached her. She felt her muscles stiffen but did not step backwards. The weeks in his company had given her that much courage.

“Why are you here?” He snarled the question with a twisted lip and flashing eye.

She swallowed and breathed out. “Do I have an choice?”

“You are not a prisoner.” He gestured roughly towards the door.

“No,” she shook her head slowly, still not looking at him, “but you are.”

She felt rather than saw his spine straighten. He stepped around behind her and his breath came hot on the back of her neck, “So you choose to share my cell, this gilded cage, with me?”

Her eyes shut involuntarily so she would not have to see the velvet couches, shining floors, crystal and art with which she was surrounded. “I do.”

The breath on the back of her neck stopped abruptly, though he had not moved. “Why?”

She turned then to face him and, with her heart beating like a hummingbird, raised her eyes to his face. The face that had frightened her into running madly the first night now inspired only pity. She had learned something since her arrival. Evil and ugliness are not synonomous and, for all his anger and in spite of his twisted face, he was not evil. “Because I want to.”

His eyes, which for the first time had faltered at her gaze, snapped upwards again. “You choose?”

“I do.”

His entire frame seemed to collapse and shrink inwards. He reached one razor-clawed paw up to cover his face. The muscles along his frame rippled and tensed in a strange pattern, moving fur like grass in wind. And there, underneath furrowed brow and in the midst of his twisted, bestial face, there glistened a light. Curiousity and compassion made her forget herself and step forward. She reached a hand upwards and placed it on his arm. “Beast?”

At her touch his paw fell, and he raised his face towards her. There, shining in the dark predatory pools of his eyes were two large tears. She watched as they fell, each in their turn, to the floor.

There was no magic earthquake, no sparks nor other-worldly trumpets blaring. His face was still that of a beast, his form twisted out of recognition. There was still the girl, one hand on the arm of that which was still not human.

Two tears was all, but they were proof of what she had been searching for and finally found- the beauty in the Beast.




One response

28 11 2007
Jennifer James

Awesome megs! A good take on a good story. Lots of picture with minimal explanation, the hallmark of good writing!

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