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The Endlessness of Everything
A Snow Micro
The police lights strobe across the white moorland in manga licks of blue softened and soaked by rolling drifts of dawn's breaking mists. The distant wintered trees hang as ghouls in the flanks, silhouettes seamed with indigo against a fading brittle grey sky.
I stand next to Kate's body. Her gravestone. Her murderer by neglect. I watch the neon yellow coats approach, their searchlights bleeding trails. How am I going to explain her death to these logical creatures? I look down; her golden skin, covered in frosted lace, appears lilac in the undulation of blue. Her shock of turquoise hair shimmers with ice. She lies as art within nature's canvas. Beautiful in her death.
My heart races with guilt. My breath judders in shallow puffs, freezing in beads against my ghostly skin. She had stared so long at that easel. I had assumed she could not paint; weeks had passed without a stroke of colour passing from her brushes onto canvas. I had tried to encourage her, not understanding when she said, "It's ok; I am simply enjoying the endlessness of everything. There is joy in a blank slate; its infinite potential is intoxicating. I am obsessed with it. I could stay here connected to the possibilities of new beginnings forever."
I look at her embalmed in nature's winter canvas, splashed in synthetic blue, and I know how she died.
She walked into the nothingness to become one with it.
It will take the appreciation of an artist to understand.
About the Creator
Caroline Jane
Warm-blooded vertebrate, domesticated with a preference for the wild. Howls at the moon and forages on the dark side of it. Laughs like a hyena. Fuelled by good times and fairy dust. Writes obsessively with no holes barred.
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There Should be a Crack in Everything. Runner-Up in Misplaced Challenge.
It is nearly a hundred years since I slipped off a coffin and tumbled into the gutter. It is such a shame. I genuinely thought I had made it that time. For a brief moment, lying there, out of sight, blanketed in the sludge of London's streets, slathered by trickles of earthly grime, I basked in the sanctity of decay, and it was beautiful.
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I First Saw Him
When I first saw him sitting on the wall, relaxed and looking out over the water, I was sure he wasn't a local. Not including children, there are only about 250 or 300 of us in this area full-time, though that number is ten-fold in the summer, and I know everyone at least by sight or by family resemblance. And yet, the way he sat looked familiar and started my mind sorting and discarding among the families I knew, not quite like this one, not quite like that one.
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Comments (27)
'She lies as art within nature's canvas. Beautiful in her death.' 😮 great line! The whole thing was 😮🤩. Happy belated placement, Caroline!
Beautifully written Caroline. This piece flows despite being a micro, and you manage to use your words to show so much! I especially liked “The distant wintered trees hang as ghouls in the flanks” as an image, and the overall tone here feels so haunting. Well done😊
Stunning lyrical writing Caroline! Congratulations for placing.I love the surreal undertone throughout 🥰
Wow so much literary colour in something so bleak! Congratulations 💕
WOW such hauntingly beautiful prose! You truly rocked this challenge! Stunning work my friend! Congratulations!👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾
And this is why you continue to be in the winners circle. Absolutely poetic, I can feel the dark anguish as you hold our attention throughout the entire story.
Very dark, poetic, and descriptive. I thoroughly enjoyed this!
There is some great descriptive writing here, Caroline, to create a sense of place. Atmospheric and chilling. It's like the opening scene to an art movie.
Such powerful imagery. Congratulations on a well deserved win!
Wooohooooo congratulations on your challenge win! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
Congratulations Caroline on your win in the Snow Micro challenge!!!
Oh my, Caroline! Congrats on another great placement, loved this. As bleak and sad as it was, it was also beautifully written!
Goodness, Caroline, this is incredible writing. The journey to that third paragraph feels like it takes months to arrive; you're literally controlling time from the very start of this story. I can't express just how perfectly satisfying it was to read about Kate's artistic shift in that graph. Her obsession with the empty canvas...ugh. You rendered this so well. I'm at a loss for words.
The imagery in that second paragraph is stunning. The description of the coats and the strobe of light makes me see a water colour painting or an old story book. So lovely.
You most definitely are an artist with words and creativity! loved it
Your construction of imagery is astounding! This is a striking micro!
Wow. Very beautiful!
So descriptive and deliciously beautiful! Love this story
“I watch the neon yellow coats approach, their searchlights bleeding trails” so good well done Caroline
Oh wow, her death was definite aesthetic. Your story was so deep!
Such rich language, loved this :)
Powerful, sage little story!
Very deep and thought provoking.
Marvelously descriptive story - the endlessness of everthing!!!💕♥️♥️ Loving everthing except the artist's death!!!
Oh wow. Beautifully descriptive, as always. Well done.