Trespassing #FridayFictioneers

Benny couldn’t explain his attraction to abandoned buildings. There was a fascination about nature claiming back what had been her’s. There was also the stillness that lay inside.

There were always warning signs but Benny found ways in. He would stay for awhile, soaking up the atmosphere, breathing in the decay and perhaps taking a few things.

This shop had been picked clean and squatters had been in. Benny didn’t mind, there was still enough to be seen. He found a spot to sit, got his sketch things out and began to draw whatever came into his head.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/08/07/9-august-2019/ with thanks).

Rastrophiliopustrocity #AtoZChallenge

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Rastrophiliopustrocity; a spontaneous combustion of creative spark that is followed by action in order to manifest and bring into existence. 

I took the drug again, I just had to! Within minutes the creativity was upon me and I was scrambling for canvas, paints and brushes.

It was like someone else had taken over my head and hands, I didn’t know what I was doing, wasn’t aware of what I was creating, which meant have been because the drug partly caused temporary blindness.

Paint splashed all round, two, three brushes in my hands at once as the need grew, I had to get everything out of me and put it onto the canvas as fast as lightening.

The drug lasted only a short time so I could only do one painting. I had in the past tried for two or three canvas, that I had set up ready but the paintings hadn’t turned out as good, they had been blurry and frantic. Not my normal artist flare, so I hadn’t sold them.

The minutes seemed to race by as I worked, still unaware of what was being brought to life before me. My body started to trier, my hands aching and a headache building. The drug was wearing off.

Exhausted, I stepped back and looked at the painting, it was one of my finest yet.

Carved #100WW

The dead tree in the park was to be removed but first an artist had been allowed access. He had thought awhile about what to do – paint the tree? Chainsaw sculpt an image? Use the branches to display other works of art?

He liked that idea! But he was going to need help. He ran art classes in schools so decided to get the young people to make pieces to decorate the tree. Then they all went out and did just that.

Lastly, everyone carved their names into the trunk signing the art piece off.

 

(Inspired by; https://bikurgurl.com/2019/02/20/100-word-wednesday-week-109/ with thanks).

 

Imagination #WritePhoto

They said he was an artist at an early age but if they thought he would be creative on paper and canvas they were wrong. He painted on walls; huge images of people that seemed to be from other times and places, alien flowers or trees, backgrounds of glass stained sunsets, water reflections and purple fields.

It was hard to know what to make of it all. Most people saw it as graffiti which was just rubbish to be washed off the walls, a few thought they were nice enough and a handful could see the visions behind the art.

 

(Inspired by; https://scvincent.com/2019/01/17/thursday-photo-prompt-imagination-writephoto/ with thanks).

 

 

Big Art #100WW

The art competition was under way. Artists had started at first light, sketching their master pieces on the closed road. The crowds had gathered, stopping to stare, talk and point. The judges made the rounds, muttering to themselves.

Jason sat back from his grizzly bear holding a rainbow tuna. He had finished and felt, with a glance at the nearest paintings, that he was in with a good chance of winning. And what a prize! A nice payout, his paintings in the gallery and a boost to his name.

The judges came by and Jason held his breath whilst they decided.

 

(Inspired by; https://bikurgurl.com/2018/08/22/100-word-wednesday-week-85/ with thanks).

Inspiration

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For the last few months, Yancy had been going around car boots, fairs and similar places. He brought old photographs, postcards and sometimes albums of them if they were cheap enough or he found a picture he liked.

Each morning, he would gather a bunch together and look at them at the desk in his studio. In the afternoon, he would try and draw or paint something inspired by what he had seen.

It was hard going but it was helping to break his block. For months, he’d not been able to bare touching his pencils and paintbrushes but now he was finding it easier each day.

He had yet to move back to canvas though but that would soon come. He tried not to think so much. Best to keep the negative voices down.

That morning, from his pile, Yancy selected a photo of a young child standing in front of a white washed wall. He wondered who the child was and what they were doing. Puling his sketchbook over, he drew the child, ideas turning over his head.

An hour later, he stopped and looked at what he had achieved. He had capture the child’s likeness well. Yancy smiled and decided the time was right, he wanted to paint this on to canvas.

Rainbow Rocks #3linetales

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It was properly just some bored artist seeking attention but the painted rocks on the beach were attracting a lot of the public to the area.

For weeks now, people had been swarming around the towering sculptures, marveling at all the colors then spending their money in Molly’s cafe which was handy for her, as Molly’s business hadn’t been doing that great.

When anybody asked her about the rainbow rocks, Molly would smile brightly and say, ‘I know nothing about them but aren’t they great?’ Secretly, she thought them a terrible mark on the nice beach, but if it brought the customers in she couldn’t complain that much.

(Inspired by; https://only100words.xyz/2018/05/10/three-line-tales-week-119/ with thanks).

The Monster of Depression

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The Depression monster was lurking in the corner again. She tried to shrug it off but she could still hear it’s whispering voice. She paused frowning over the questions Depression was raising then pressed on. Yet the doubts still swirled in her head and she was forced to stop. The Depression monster laughed and rushed forward, crushing her hopes. Tears wet her face and she turned away. Abandoning the half painted canvas, she went to the sofa and lay there. Depression consumed her, filling her with a hopelessness and darkness that weighted too much to escape from.

Jouska #atozchallenge

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Jouska; a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

She was there again in her front garden, sunbathing and relaxing. I’d missed seeing her during winter. Now though, she’d be out there every sunny day and I could watch from the shadow corner of my living room. I know what people would think of me if they knew I was watching her; a spy, a peeping tom, a stalker, a rapist.

I’m not any of them. I’m just a lonely artist who sees the beauty of all female forms. Sometimes I’ll sit here and sketch her, other times I’ll draw her from memory. Most of the time I just like to watch and hold a conversation with her in my head.

‘Hello,’ I would say, ‘nice weather today.’

‘Yes,’ she would reply, maybe lowering her sunglasses.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt you. But I live across the way there and I’ve been admiring you for so long.’ 

She might sigh and try to break the news she has a boyfriend or a husband to me. Not that I’ve noticed one about the place. Or perhaps, she might look closely at me and try to tell me I’m not her type. 

In some of these conversations, she does declare her interested in me, but those are very rare and only when I’m feeling at my most lowest. Most of the time she’ll state a boyfriend.

My reply is always, ‘that’s fine. I’m an artist and I would like to paint you.’ 

‘Well, I don’t know,’ she’d respond and start to blush.

‘Please? You can have the painting. It’s the only thing I wish for.’ 

‘I’d need to think about it,’ she would say whilst getting up.

‘No. Don’t think about it. You wouldn’t have to do anything. Just lay there as you have been doing and I shall get to work at once. Here, I have my paper and pencils all ready. Please, this would mean so much to me.’ 

She’ll lower herself back down, ‘okay….’

‘It’ll be fine,’ I’ll say.

Then I begin to sketch her. Outlining all her loveliness whilst she sunbaths. 

After, I will transfer the sketches to canvas and paint her. It’ll be my master piece. The one painting everyone remembers me by.

If only that conversation could become real…

Wall

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He liked to draw, but only on walls. Early in the morning, before the city fully awoke, he set out with his tools. He walked the almost empty streets where yesterday’s newspaper rustled around lampposts and the air hummed with rotting fast food. Lights on top floors shone out, growing dim as the sun rose higher.

He found his ‘canvas’ on the inside wall of a pedestrian tunnel under a road. Setting his things down, he looked for the best spot to began as he ponder what he would paint today.