motif

car radio

motif

the stereo on the dresser emits sound. a piercing, quiet melody plays, the artist’s unknown, the voice unfamiliar. it sits at a distance, there, but not there. it casts shadows through the papers, steady and still, unmoved. the song plays out, comes to a close. nothing plays after. it room falls quiet.

a car drives past. through the silence, the sound of its tyres on tarmac echo. a burning sound, paper consumed by licking flames, crackling and crying out. it fades out as the car proceeds on its way. it’s no longer there. the room rearranges itself, falling back into silence. nothing passes through it.

a stomach rumbles, a sound like paper crunching underfoot. the gurgles slowly fall away. they’re a reminder of the uneaten meal downstairs. it’s untouched, now forgotten. no one will remember it. only when they do will they realised what’s happened. the growling stomach come back, begging for the food it deserves. it’s complaints fall upon deaf ears and it recesses.

echoes of the wind down the chimney creak through the air. the fire goes out, confidential letters left with their edges blistered, yet to be destroyed. breathy whispers swirl through the open network, wind muttering untold secrets to the still, unwoken world. the quiet mutters die with the breeze, slipping into silence again.

a dog barks, falls silent. a siren plays, dies as someone attends it. a plane flies overhead, becomes quiet once passed. another car, another fire. it dies as quick as it came. a distant cow cries out for its child, stops once reunited. the world falls into a silent disarray.

the air allows thoughts to excel themselves into the silence. they echo around, fearful, bizarre formations of illogical concepts, quietly emptying themselves into the unknown. the peaceful tranquility broken by fragmented images.

through the open window, cold breeze flows. crisp and sharp against the warmth of the room. it cuts through the air, a single channel of cold. the wind blows in steadily, soft and nurturing. the corners of the journals lift, fall to the ground, dead.

heat ribbles against the chills, a stark comparison. it’s quickly overtaken, left to mingle amongst the layers of vellum left on the floor. the more the waves fight, the less they achieve. they allow the bitterness in. the gusts become stronger. a silent chill falls over the room.

the curtain billows open, a shadow flicks itself across the wall. branches from a tree outside illuminated across the empty wall. they cover the papered surface, empty thoughts and images, each full with a story never to be told. they move with the light and the breeze. fall back to their original, empty states as the curtain lowers itself once again.

the stars through the window blink. they sparkle and glitter through the dark, each a burning ball. they’re sparse, freckled throughout the universe, white dots on a dark canvas. they blink expectantly, hopeful. their prayers go unheard, called out through the silence.

the lights outside dim, an unwanted reminder of the ever-approaching dawn. a hint of the soon to be disturbed quiet. the air that will soon be touched by the warmth of the sun. the bright, intrusive colours will presently be surrounding the world. everyone will be awake, she will fall asleep. everyone will know no more than they did, no less they have.

yours,
emily xo

Pet Days…

This post was originally typed up last Monday, and so now I have to re-type the whole thing.  Tara had her first Pet Day with Moose last Friday.  She was so worried and nervoius before hand, but she got better and Moose got two ribbons; a second and a third.  Tara was so happy.  Hope and Moose have their secont shows on Thursday, please wish me luck again (it seemed to work very well last time), I will add in a picture of Hope and Moose in the ring or with their ribbons (if they win any).

We have got another calf and three more lambs since I last posted.  The calf is a little Herford bull named Dave and the lambs are two boys and one girl.  We got one of the lambs (Race) the Friday before last and the two others (Friction, the girl and Fraction, the boy) on Sunday night.  I will add in a picture when I manage to get one.

On a completely different note, this is the story starter that I made up the one night last week (or maybe the week before, I’m not quite sure!) when I was lying in bed trying to get to sleep.  I will add more to it when the rest pops into my head.  Please imagine the looks of the people yourself, as everyone has their one perception of what people look like.  This is…Tower of Flames, enjoy!

Tower of Flames…

A 15 year old girl stood alone in a room.  She was exceptionally pretty, but the dark, gloomy room hid her beauty.  The look on her face was the only thing about her that wasn’t pretty.  The only way to describe the look is to say that it was pursed and demanding.  It looked as though someone had forgotten something that she thought was very important.  She walked to the door at one side of the room and yanked it open.  A boy of about the same age walked in.  He was slightly taller than she was, he smiled as she slammed the door behind him.

“Adelaide,” he said, “You summoned me.”

“Indeed James, and I summoned you for a good reason too.  I need you to tell me your story – all of it as well, don’t miss anything out.”

The boy looked startled.  “My story?  Um, o-of course I’ll give you my story, you should know that by now.  Why do – actually forget that – who wouldn’t give you their story?”

The girl – Adelaide – laughed, a cold, bitter laugh, “Oh, you’d be surprised James, you’d be surprised.  Now, I want – no, I need – that story, it’s important.  Give it to me now, before I take it from you – with force if necessary.”

James smiled at her bitterness and began.  He began at the start of his life, with his parents…

Nos vemos…

Emily