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Very Short Stories, Week 22

Good Monday morning! Or at least, I hope it will turn into one if it hasn’t yet.

My dreams were sweet and intoxicating, and kept me in bed longer than I’d like. But here I am with my very short stories.

Here you go!

 

September 10th

The tree lay on its side, but relatively intact. Winds from last night’s storm #uprooted its proud base, leaving it exposed to the elements. She wandered over to it in sun’s brilliant rays and mourned its fate to shrivel and decay.

But the tree didn’t give up.

 

September 11th

#Smoke tumbles off the burning logs, crawling slowly towards the heavens. The fire’s scent hangs in the air and spreads its warmth and fond memories. Leaves rustle underfoot and form a carpet on soon to sleep grass. The taste of Autumn is in the air, beckoning.

 

September 12th

Rain gathered behind the dam’s walls. Its angered waters licked and spilled over its confinement, taunting those in its way. Shouts were scarcely heard over the storm, ordering evacuation.

The police rushed to remove those in the city below, to beat the #floodwaters.

 

September 13th

The teachers blamed the #lunar eclipse but the students only wanted freedom. From rules and regulations. From homework and grades. From the rigors suffocating creativity. They longed to spread their wings and read from forbidden works.

Really, they wanted stimulation.

 

September 14th

I remember doing #somersaults on the ground. The grass wet or dry, but soft against my clumsiness. I remember it turned into flips in the air that ended badly, too. I remember the child in me who made the attempt despite the outcome.

Where did she go?

 

September 15th

His eyes were #amber and sweet like honey. They raked over her naked body, sending shivers across her skin. Tension rose between them in the still silence. The pure sexual energy demanded release.

If she were a lock, his kiss was the key to unleash both their passion.

 

September 16th

Her fingers fluttered like hummingbirds across the keys of the piano. It was the only thing betraying her #euphoric mood. With eyes shut and lips a thin line, no one thought she was anything but serious. The notes that rose and fell were uplifting, demanding. Like her.

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A Sad Face Pt. 2

I managed to finish off that face I started days (week?) ago, and I am… alright with the end result.

Sad.face.Finished.jpg

I added that second eye and eyebrow. Added a bit more definition, and voila! A piece I am keeping for learner’s sake only.

My art teachers in high school absolutely hated it when we smudged. It is messy, and where I made the most mistakes, too.

Smudging is essentially using the natural oils your hands secretes to blur or rub the pencil around. (It works best with the B series of pencils, I have found).

However it means the pencil grays your hand, and when you touch the piece, you must be careful. Otherwise, you end up with errors like the smudge in the hair, or on the neck. It is also difficult to erase. All of which I remember from high school art class, and chose to do anyway, because I got impatient.

May have to pick up some of those ‘Teach Yourself’ books to get a better grip on shading outside of smudging.

I do love smudging. It will always have its place, but I definitely need to get away from it.

Also need to practice proportions and placement. My eyebrows definitely don’t line up, and I am unsure if my eyes do, because of placement.

At least I tried, right?

P.S. I welcome ANY tips, or practical videos on the subject. As much as I try to overcome my perfectionist side of myself, it does win on occasion.