& a 31_days
So today was the NWOC Art Show, where my school and seven others in our conference come together to showcase our art and win prizes.
My self portrait won Honorable Mention and my ceramic sculpted heart won SECOND PLACE.
:DDDDDDDD
Also, here: I wrote this yesterday for this exercise in Story Writing, and I liked it enough to post and toss it into the
31_days mix, since that seems to be the only community that gets me to actually write and want to post things for.
The exercise was that we were given a summary of a story, and we had to pick a part that interested us and write a scene for it. The character John is in love with Anne, so he works in a shoe factory in order to get a ticket to go to Switzerland and marry her and yadda yadda. Most everyone wrote about how 'he knew she still loved him after all their years apart' but I was more interested in something less sappy.
So, here.
a glimpse of devotion
In the long hours of the dawn, John worked, and then he worked more, all the way until day's end. He could be found in the left-hand back corner, his corner, the John the workers called it, laughing as if they had been clever. John did not mind. He never minded the presence of the other workers, because he ignored them. John worked quietly, diligently, and the others almost hated him for it, because they were the ones being bitched at by Boss about the correlation between their talking and lack of product and John's non-talking and abundance of product.
On a Wednesday in December, the little black boy--Spinach was 'is name right? wasn't that int?-- In any case, he decided to have a talk with this John. Over in the John. They snickered. Spinach marched right up and only hesitated a little before puffing out his chest and staring John straight in the face. Or neck. Or collarbone. Somewhere around there (Spinach was short, it hurt to crane his neck so high, he was not scared).
"What you gotta werk so hard fer?" Spinach was not scared, actually. He was abrupt. And he had never learned subtlety, or manners, for that matter. "You crazy"--a short, but noticeable pause--"John?"
The man, who was really not a man (only seventeen, only five years older than Spinach, really) paused very briefly in his work. Then his fingers went back to tugging the tongue of the shoe, sewing through the laces. He glanced at Spinach. The boy thought he saw a peculiar sadness in his eyes.
He said, "I need to go somewhere. Someone's waiting for me." There was strength in his quiet voice.
And Spinach, for his part, despite the pressure from the other workers, decided to leave John alone.
My self portrait won Honorable Mention and my ceramic sculpted heart won SECOND PLACE.
:DDDDDDDD
Also, here: I wrote this yesterday for this exercise in Story Writing, and I liked it enough to post and toss it into the
31_days mix, since that seems to be the only community that gets me to actually write and want to post things for.
The exercise was that we were given a summary of a story, and we had to pick a part that interested us and write a scene for it. The character John is in love with Anne, so he works in a shoe factory in order to get a ticket to go to Switzerland and marry her and yadda yadda. Most everyone wrote about how 'he knew she still loved him after all their years apart' but I was more interested in something less sappy.
So, here.
a glimpse of devotion
In the long hours of the dawn, John worked, and then he worked more, all the way until day's end. He could be found in the left-hand back corner, his corner, the John the workers called it, laughing as if they had been clever. John did not mind. He never minded the presence of the other workers, because he ignored them. John worked quietly, diligently, and the others almost hated him for it, because they were the ones being bitched at by Boss about the correlation between their talking and lack of product and John's non-talking and abundance of product.
On a Wednesday in December, the little black boy--Spinach was 'is name right? wasn't that int?-- In any case, he decided to have a talk with this John. Over in the John. They snickered. Spinach marched right up and only hesitated a little before puffing out his chest and staring John straight in the face. Or neck. Or collarbone. Somewhere around there (Spinach was short, it hurt to crane his neck so high, he was not scared).
"What you gotta werk so hard fer?" Spinach was not scared, actually. He was abrupt. And he had never learned subtlety, or manners, for that matter. "You crazy"--a short, but noticeable pause--"John?"
The man, who was really not a man (only seventeen, only five years older than Spinach, really) paused very briefly in his work. Then his fingers went back to tugging the tongue of the shoe, sewing through the laces. He glanced at Spinach. The boy thought he saw a peculiar sadness in his eyes.
He said, "I need to go somewhere. Someone's waiting for me." There was strength in his quiet voice.
And Spinach, for his part, despite the pressure from the other workers, decided to leave John alone.