Project 52: Toppling Atlas

1 short story a week. 52 weeks a year.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Week One: March 1st to March 7th.

Echoes


Woeful, is the wind that first sounds the horns of fall’s arrival. The landscape is harsh: hilly and densely forested; so devoid of any sign of civilization, one might wonder if man had ever set foot in it. The terrain matters not to the wind, who changes its run to a crawl with a fluid ease that never skips a beat. Leaves cling to the wind--hitching a ride for a short while--before departing to the forest floor. The wind somberly went about its way, until it finally burst out of the forest near the top of the hill. A white cube rests on top, its shadow never reaching the tree line. The wind quickens its pace, racing now towards the box with no openings to be seen. Upon contact, the wind spirals up the cube, circling the structure twice before reaching the top. Slowly running its fingers along the flat roof, the wind says its farewell, and shoots back down the hill. Regretful, is the wind that never looks back.
Weary, is the hand drawing with heavy lines on the paper. Sitting back, the man stares at his drawing for a moment before looking around his room. The room has white walls, a white ceiling, and a white floor, with no sign of entry or exit to be seen. His protection from the outside world. A single wall is marked by a picture covered with a piece of cloth. A small desk, a rocking chair, and a stack of papers are the only other objects to be seen inside. Turning back to his picture, he slowly moves closer and draws tiny hearts onto the bodies of the people he has drawn. All of a sudden, the pictures begin to move with life. Flexing fingers incredulously, and throwing out cheers, the figures start to walk around. A father, drawn in the artists liking, a gorgeous wife, and a handsome son hug each other, and head into a house drawn for them to start their lives together. The smile slowly melts from his face as the artist sighs, and starts to erase the picture, his ears deaf to their tiny screams and pleads. Setting down the pencil, the man walks over to the hanging painting, and gingerly removes the sheet covering it. The painting shows him painted in perfect detail, with his arm around the most beautiful woman you could possibly imagine. Standing in front of a house, a son runs across the yard with a dog. Rocking back and forth on his chair, the man watches the painting with a smile. Tears run down his face, but he wants to watch for a little while longer before laying down for sleep. Regretful, is the man who hides from living.



1 comment:

  1. It is really beautiful how you connected these two.

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