Fiction
Wheatfields Under Thunderclouds. Runner-Up in Painted Prose Challenge.
Indiana held fields of winter wheat. To be clear it does still, but when we stopped at the station to fill the car and drain our bladders, the road behind us and the road ahead saw the encroaching storm push toward us from the west. Driving north to see my father’s father and my uncle, the image of the approaching storm held for me the first look of foreshadowing.
By G. Douglas Kerr3 years ago in Art
Mother and Child. Runner-Up in Painted Prose Challenge.
Mavis wanted to hate Timmy. He was the dead stamp of the man who had told her the only thing he wanted to do was “to stare into her eyes for the rest of his life.” But when Mavis told him she was pregnant, he disappeared
By Geoffrey Philp 3 years ago in Art
Brushstrokes of Self-Discovery: A Tale of Art, Creativity, and Personal Growth
Staring at the daunting blank canvas propped on my easel, I felt the familiar sense of dread. I was an artist, or at least, that's what my business cards said. But after weeks of creative drought, I was starting to question my career choice. Could I really call myself an artist if I had nothing to show for it? My studio, usually a haven of color and imagination, now felt like a courtroom, with the blank canvas as the judge and jury.
By Evan Brown3 years ago in Art
Joy and fulfillment
The Garden of Serenity Amidst the hustle and bustle of city life, Sarah found solace and serenity in her small backyard garden. It was a place where she could escape the chaos and immerse herself in the simple beauty of nature. Each morning, as the sun painted the sky with hues of gold and pink, she would step outside, taking a deep breath, and feel a sense of anticipation and joy fill her soul.
By Adewale Ojaleye3 years ago in Art
Sailin' Shoes
Introduction One of the earliest pieces I wrote for Vocal was this appreciation of the art of Martin Muller (Neon Park). I was originally going to try with "The Last Record Album" but then decided to go with "Sailin' Shoes". In the piece below I do describe the picture in detail, and his work always has so much going on in it.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 years ago in Art
When The Mask Slips
Amelia was an empath, gifted with the ability to feel and understand the emotions of others. Her empathic powers had always been a source of solace and connection, allowing her to navigate the world with a deep sense of compassion. But she had never encountered anyone quite like Sebastian Larken.
By Jacqueline Leigh3 years ago in Art
Embracing a Legend's Farewell
In a cinematic landscape adorned with countless iconic characters, Indiana Jones stands tall as an enduring symbol of adventure, wit, and resilience. For decades, Harrison Ford has breathed life into this legendary archaeologist, capturing the hearts of audiences worldwide. As the fifth and final instalment of the Indiana Jones saga approaches, emotions run high as fans prepare to bid farewell to an extraordinary era. In this article, we delve into the emotional journey that awaits us in Harrison Ford's farewell performance as Indiana Jones, exploring the significance of this cinematic swan song.
By ANDERSON JOSÉ DE OLIVEIRA LIMA3 years ago in Art
The Copper-Green Woman in the Pictures. Finalist in 2023 Vocal Writing Awards - Young Adult Fiction. Runner-Up in Painted Prose Challenge.
I remember the day I stood next to the copper-green woman. I forgot all about Iqbal and the colour of the henna around my hands. I was now feeling like the copper-green woman from the pictures. Static and full of secrets. The kind of secrets that Safa knew about me and together with me. So openly and so gently, every night in that narrow lane, we shared moments without our naked bodies or one on top of another. We were two halves of the same apple, becoming whole. Or better. Just like an apple, we were secretive. From the inside, filled with colours and textures, and from the outside just as plain as the water in the well. I was Safa’s secret affairs for over a year until Iqbal came to Kabul. In a month’s time, he convinced my parents and got engaged with me. He carried me alongside his suitcases, first to Islamabad, Pakistan then to Atlanta, America. We ended up in a place called Virginia. They say, the green woman in Iqbal’s photographs is called the Statue of Liberty, which is in New York City. I had wished since then to meet her. I waited to meet her one day, as it seemed she encompassed me and Safa in stillness. With her torch and the liberty that glowed around her head. That’s how I would show that Safa will be in my heart forever.
By Parwana Fayyaz3 years ago in Art
