Photo by Highlander
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Vasco dressed by moonlight, lashing buckles and cords in lopsided knots with hasty yanks and tugs. He had no need to look presentable, just the need to flee, to run, to get to her side.
Flora needed him. He knew it. He could feel it. His blood was on fire. Every fiber of his flesh was screaming, reaching for her.
The horse was too slow. Dragging. Even as the trees zoomed past and the forest gave way to sand and the sand met the sea he felt hours dropping past impatiently.
There was no time. Never enough time. He knew she was dying. There was too much blood on that armor. Too much to leave any for her.
Flora. He stopped, jerking the reigns, leaping, running, falling in the surf to cradle her.
'I'm here to rescue you my love. Please, please wake up.'
But she would not stir and she would not answer and he knew, he knew, he was too late but he refused to know. And the horse was too slow again. And the buckles were pulled and fastened in haste. And his bride was lashed lopsided and carelessly to the rear of his mount.
And he looked to the sun, to the setting moon, and he rode as hard as he could across the waves until he could swallow no more of world's tears. And he choked and coughed and drowned in the salt brine of his pain.
Just as she opened her eyes.
~ Sarah
One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.
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I just wrote the following as my first-ever writing-prompt exercise-for-sharing. Thank you for providing it! I'm posting it on my blog, which is brand new (http://pencilisbest.wordpress.com)
R is for Rescue:
Rescue me, o rescue me! Roaring of mighty waters, rushing, roaring into my ears, my eyes, my lungs; roaring waters roaring mightily, I am fighting against submitting to you, fighting you, I roar and roar "Rescue me, o rescue me!" I fight, I battle you, "RESCUE ME, SOMEBODY HELP, RESCUE ME!" There is cold, fear; blood rushing cold inside me; cold fear, rushing down, down, blindingly down, "RESCUE ME, RESCUE ME!" Screaming, rushing, roaring waters; red swirling waters, rushing over my head, I can't find air, rescue me! Wildly grasping, wildly grabbing but nothing solid is there, only water, the water rushing between my fingers; I can't grab it, it is not solid, I am grabbing, grasping, but there's nothing there to grasp, "RESCUE me!" Sound whirling round me , black sound, confusion, water rushing, rushing, louder, louder, waves grabbing round my waist, I kick against them! "Rescue me!" I fight and fight, fight against the grabbing; but with stronger power rope rushes round my waist, rope like iron, grabs me in iron clench, "Rescue me!" Jerks me out, I flail, I grasp, it's not solid, it's air , I can't grab it, "rescue me!" Rushing air, rushing round me, roar of air - yes, air… rescued. I submit.
Light swirls on the blank canvas.
Painter feels the art moving within.
Reason arrests the brush in her hand.
Doubt lays down walls to stifle.
Time blindfolds inspired eyes.
Creativity gasps for rescue.
I smile
Silence!
Stealing a moment
Rescues my day.
Hearing the silence
Is like a breath of fresh air.
Tap Tap Tap
"Eh?"
Bam! Bam!
Ok...time to open the door of the bathroom and face it all again with renewed ears.
CHARGE!
I need to be rescued from my plight today and yesterday. In a blink of an eye I have been transported to a place that I do not feel I can be myself. Where would I go should I be rescued...where I should be in the first place - my hometown. If I could I would live closer to family old and young. Rescue what a beautiful and hopeful thought for today.
Vasco dressed by moonlight, lashing buckles and cords in lopsided knots with hasty yanks and tugs. He had no need to look presentable, just the need to flee, to run, to get to her side.
Flora needed him. He knew it. He could feel it. His blood was on fire. Every fiber of his flesh was screaming, reaching for her.
The horse was too slow. Dragging. Even as the trees zoomed past and the forest gave way to sand and the sand met the sea he felt hours dropping past impatiently.
There was no time. Never enough time. He knew she was dying. There was too much blood on that armor. Too much to leave any for her.
Flora. He stopped, jerking the reigns, leaping, running, falling in the surf to cradle her.
'I'm here to rescue you my love. Please, please wake up.'
But she would not stir and she would not answer and he knew, he knew, he was too late but he refused to know. And the horse was too slow again. And the buckles were pulled and fastened in haste. And his bride was lashed lopsided and carelessly to the rear of his mount.
And he looked to the sun, to the setting moon, and he rode as hard as he could across the waves until he could swallow no more of world's tears. And he choked and coughed and drowned in the salt brine of his pain.
Just as she opened her eyes.
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