A Year of Whimsi

[whimsicaldreamer]

Week 33: 225 Broken Frames July 3, 2013

Broken frames. The image of a picture frame, the metal kind that has slits and slots in the side to slide in the picture and the cardboard and then the piece of glass it presses against and wraps around, springs into my mind a moment before the corner of the dulled metal frame hits the ground.

In an instant the frame breaks. The metal unfolds and sprawls out on the floor like a rigid and unnatural snake. The glass shatters and cracks, obscuring the face of the smiling child on the front.

Shaking hands work their way through the maze of half seen shard to grasp the edge of the paper with careful fingers. The picture is pulled free, but not before the sharp edges of the glass scratch the surface and gouge out a cut in the paper.  

[whimsicaldreamer]

Week 33: 226 Drive July 4, 2013

When the urge to,
the compulsion,
the need to do
is as strong as the need to breathe.

When the world turns,
days can mark the time,
and hours pass as seconds.

When thoughts collide and push,
and rocket fuel is weak
the only thing that's left
is drive.  

[whimsicaldreamer]

Week 33: 227 No Time July 5, 2013

No time. There is no time. Not enough. There never is. There never was.
The clock is ticking. It is always ticking. The tick tick tick of the gears as they turn and unwind count down to the future, to the past.

The sand runs out of the hour glass. The tide of time erases the footprints on the beach. The winds of time blow and everything is gone, is lost, is forgotten.

There is no time.  

[whimsicaldreamer]

Week 33: 228 Wind

Arren stared out at the night. The ground inside of the walls of the city proper were empty. The bells that had tolled for evening prayer on the most sacred of winter nights ensured that anyone who had heard them had flocked to the temple.

He sat down on the steps and looked up, glared up, at the stars. Somewhere up there were the lanterns hung by his family because Maldia's precious Dia had neglected to shine their lights on them.

The wind blew off the ocean and carried with it the magic of the void. It raised the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck, a chill ran down his spine. Magic on the wind was nothing unusual, the absence of magic caused more comment than even an unusually strong presence. This wind though, if felt unnatural and left an unease that he could not shake.

His gaze, locked onto the sky and the north star, directed his attention upwards. A shudder ran through his body as, for a brief moment, the sky became devoid of stars.  

[whimsicaldreamer]

Week 33: 229 Flag

The wind blew in from the open window and brought a steady supply of fresh air to the stale room. Eille sat on the bed, propped up by a number of pillows and stuck under the warmth of a dozen blankets for protection against the winter cold the fresh air brought.

She placed the book she had been reading from on her lap and lifted her gaze to the window. From her spot in the healer's wing she looked out onto one of the main courtyards. A few students skittered across it in a rush to get to their dorms, and to avoid catching the eye of any robed adult who would give them a task just so they would have something to occupy their time.

She smiled as one such red robed man walked past and the students scattered, but not before one was summoned by a pointed finger and a waved hand.

The student quickly received her task and ran off to go clip plants in the green houses or find a book in the library or some such trivial messenger service.

With the courtyard once again devoid of anything of interest to watch Eille looked up to the sky, and to the flag pole where the black flag that bore the white Dia Star flapped in the wind, and as the clips hit the metal pole, created a clinking noise that struck Eille's ears like the never ending tolling of a bell.