Contest details are here.
Update - This post WON. That would be the first time I've managed a win, so thank you to the judge, Casey Moss (@CRMoss)
The talented others who won can be found here.
Image Prompt
Phrase
"so good to see"
Judge's Prompt
The Judge’s Prompt: The first line from John Keats’ poem ‘On Death’: “Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream, And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?” Think about the quote (use it as inspiration) then use the following words in your piece: death, sleep, life, dream, bliss, phantom.
My Entry
The statue towered high, its malleable palms in fervent prayer.
It had been a drawing; grey and cross-hatched. Then, a memory.
And finally, dovetailed into reality, solidified with sleek curves and lines.
She stilled as she always did, thinking it was so good to see this illustrious tribute and not a sleeping, etched slab.
This was his life’s work and his dreams’ gift; he’d said that with triumph in his eyes.
She said it was his death.
She climbed over the stone-paved border and the sunlight slanted a ray downwards. It broke as she took a further step, stroking a palm along the silver stance as fluidly as a tear. Not tearing the contact, she lowered to her knees and crawled into the shaded hollow of the bottom.
Wind swam at the mouth of the cavern, lacing an arid weft.
Whistles and sighs faltered.
Whispers subsided.
Would she ever hear them again? Not in a dream, but spoken from flesh, and blood, and life?
The elements were a poor substitute, but illusion was all that brought bliss.
She gathered a breath and leaned back.
Sinking in a cold, metal embrace, she had all that her existence needed; a phantom’s gesture.
200 words
@Afsaneh_Dreams
It had been a drawing; grey and cross-hatched. Then, a memory.
And finally, dovetailed into reality, solidified with sleek curves and lines.
She stilled as she always did, thinking it was so good to see this illustrious tribute and not a sleeping, etched slab.
This was his life’s work and his dreams’ gift; he’d said that with triumph in his eyes.
She said it was his death.
She climbed over the stone-paved border and the sunlight slanted a ray downwards. It broke as she took a further step, stroking a palm along the silver stance as fluidly as a tear. Not tearing the contact, she lowered to her knees and crawled into the shaded hollow of the bottom.
Wind swam at the mouth of the cavern, lacing an arid weft.
Whistles and sighs faltered.
Whispers subsided.
Would she ever hear them again? Not in a dream, but spoken from flesh, and blood, and life?
The elements were a poor substitute, but illusion was all that brought bliss.
She gathered a breath and leaned back.
Sinking in a cold, metal embrace, she had all that her existence needed; a phantom’s gesture.
200 words
@Afsaneh_Dreams
