Thursday, June 02, 2005

Alys Robinson - One Hundred Words

Rose. Velvet, blood, wine, old garnets caught by gaslight. Thorns prick, unmade decision, theft, deserted garden, who will know? Perfume, musk, sandalwood, enthralls, warm fog, drawn deep. Coughing, throat burning. White-fanged death howls down. Threat penetrates enchantment, fear takes hold.Running. Wolves pursue. Deep as forest shadow falls, concealment fails. Scent betrays, clinging like a lover. Comfortless, illusory refuge. Impossible hope strikes spurs into aching sides.Fluttering. Something inside beats, frantic for escape.Falling. Treetops, moonlit, twist into fantastic shapes.Tearing. Skin splits, shining silk emerges. Wings unfurl, spread luminescent, shining, across dark sky. The rest curls away, withers, crumbles.

Alys Robinson

1 comment:

Ivorwen said...

The visuals conjured we great... 'old garnets caught by gaslight' is what really impressed me. Lovely.