Oct Wk 1.5 Art/Writing Challenge - Trick of the Light

[One]

this challenge is open to any typical form of art or expression, including 2D, 3D, poetry and short stories.

--

to tiptoe along a hallway in the dark toward the bedroom of a master without permission, barefooted in near darkness .. statues and draperies playing tricks with the eye. to lie beneath the trees in a dying season while dry leaves tremor and slip, hissing and whispering against one another .. moonlight and stars beyond, painting naked bodies beneath in ever-moving silver and shadow. to exhale once on a cold morning, hot breath and mist spreading on the arched neck of another in ecstasy - the single candle in the darkened study, the torch climbing the spiral stair, the feverish shine in an admiring eye ..

light can be playful, painful, seductive, revealing .. concealing, deceptive, adoring, or cruel.

your challenge this week is to light your subjects to evoke emotion.

[Stormbringer]

Light also reflects and reveals

[One]

so true, yonder SB.

[Eraelabryn]

[Ehlanna]

My stab at this ...

[Fariday]

-Nightmare (Shadows Traverse)


Shadows traverse
the expanse of my mind
and fill me with fears
so unlike other kinds

They crawl and they writhe
'till the world calls me 'wake
and still in my mind
'tis my sanity they take

Kicking and screaming
I lay still in my bed
while the shades of my shadows yet

Scream in my head

The light falls on my face
My eyes stay open wide
As the shadows retreat
From the sun climbing high

I cling to myself
Knowing truth upon lie
In the sun I shall wake
In the shadows I'll die

[mozenwrathe]

*There are numerous words for darkness and shadow in the dark elven language, almost as many are there are words for light in the tongue of the high elves. Though one has to wonder if the gods themselves directed how the languages would evolve over time. Not that many scholars have tried to do direct opposition comparison, but will there be always question about such. Now then, if you ask an ogre about the soft differences between a candle and a burning branch, you may find yourself being asked about stupid questions and painful answers...*

But Still Not Accepting Until Dawn's Early Light
by Nápoldë Númenessë, high elven jeweler in Valencia, lover of Inwë Celebrindal

There are things I know that cannot be, and yet will I dream of them with eyes wide open. Things that simply do not exist, for the gods would never allow such to traipse their hideous ways along what belongs to them. And if anything, I know that creatures with dozens of mouths that open up from the inside out to devour stone and skin and spit out flames are nothing more than nightmares. Still, that helps me not at all when wandering through the woods to go from one customer's home to the next in the middle of the night by myself.

I have always hated such requests from these landed rulers of a property. Insisting somehow they are too special to come into town and pick up what they have purchased. No, must one of the creators of the jewelry go directly to them and present the items to them. And yet does Inwë allow such demands to be humoured, stating that what we charge for our creations makes it worth the while. What I never have understood is why these recluses and regent-aligned rascals do not send out guards to protect those delivering their prized goods. I have yet to be assailed but I have enough fears and terrors that expose themselves during such passage through the forest that I need not more misery to scare me.

One of Inwë's slaves insists my fears can be cured with either hypnotism or prayer to the right goddess. I do not believe either is possible, for no deity could possible care about my night terrors and that hypnotism concept seems a little too far past my ears for me to understand or trust. I do not remember when I first started having these fears of moonlit nights, but it was long after my youth indeed. I doubt that whatever caused them even happened during an evening. All I know is that I need do something sooner than later to regain mastery over my own heart when passing through these beautiful forests after the sun has gone.

My worse vision is that of seeing a beautiful woman standing in a chariot. She herself is human and naked for the world to be blessed by. The chariot is clearly of lacquered wood, stained a sweet sherry while keeping the natural richness. Her two steeds are thoroughbreds for racing, with coats a shimmering copper. The woman's hair is almost golden in the moonlight. And her face is of the most charming features an elf could dream on a human. But what makes the vision terrible and terrifying are here eyes, twinkling like stars surrounded by flames, with clear madness that is focused on my spirit alone. And as I find myself trying to run away, does she pull grand and grim longbow from the chariot. And this weapon is no ordinary bow either, for is it made of the bones from my dead relatives, firing arrow after arrow stained red with their blood. This, thankfully does not happen every time I traverse through the forest, but more than enough for I go almost be able to sketch her from memory.

Yet in the daytime, is there little that horrifies me quite like that. No troll or tusked boar, no ogre or objectionable barbarian. Could I feel the presence of someone following me through the marketplace, and that sensation of panic will ne'er be as pronounced. And yes, there have been times thieves and shadow-stalkers have chased me through portions of Valencia, hoping to take what I have. If it had been night time, I never would have escaped from them. Would my legs have been too slow and my heart beating too loudly for me to have evaded anything that was not blind and dead. Being blindfolded in the middle of the day does not make all scared, nor does being out on the open waves at night. Even looking down upon the town from my sweet lover's apartments within the city itself upon the different avenues at night does not do this to me. No, it is only the forest when the hour is low and the stars are high. When all that is not just might try to be, and glimmers of flashing torches in the distance become the sparks of evil that threaten my heart.