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PWC 23 August - 30 August EXTENDED ANOTHER THREE DAYS TILL THE 2ND OF SEPTEMBER
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Her Work
She wondered if her actions would ever be noticed. If what she did had an affect on people. I don’t think she realized that the greatest affect was on herself.
Myra was studying art at a community college. Her parents had told her that it was foolish. What kind of living you could possibly make from studying art? But she didn’t care. She loved the lines, the colors, that take form to make something beautiful. Her favorite form, though, was portraits.
Throughout her first semester, she studied about shadows, shapes, still life, and scenery. She excelled in all the classes, gaining the admiration of her peers and respect of her teachers. She was satisfied with this work, yet she yearned for more.
The first day of the second semester was a thrill for Myra. The class was to have their first live model. A man was simply going to come and sit in a chair for them, but she was excited to study this complex figure. Little did she know just how much the model would change her life.
After class, Myra stayed behind to adjust her drawing. The model had not been allowed to look at the art and he took this oppurtunity to look over Myra’s shoulders. What he saw took his breath away, for never before had he thought of himself the way this stranger was portraying him.
The seemingly dull eyes in life were now dark and foreboding, letting the observer believe that he had a great many thoughts in his head. The clothes didn’t just fall about him loosely; they told a tale of living day by day, taking what odd jobs he could to eat. Even the posture, the slouch he assumed, was no longer a lazy habit, but hunch, a sheltering for the rest of his body.
The model asked her why she drew him in such a way, but she merely replied that she drew what she saw. The model, Aaron was his name, did not believe her. She perceived something that most who came across him never guessed. He continued to talk to her, trying to decipher her passions and life. Such a woman who could see so deeply into him could not be ordinary.
She told him about a life of conflict, where her parents didn’t want to draw and she wanted to travel. Ever since she was small, she found awe in paintings by Monet, Van Gogh, and da Vinci. She wished to travel, to find different people and show them to the world in a new way. Aaron asked Myra why she couldn’t, but she merely shook her heard and packed up her things.
Over the next few months, Aaron continued to model for the art class, and Myra continued to see more than the others. He would ask her what her summer plans were, if she intended to make art her career, and whether or not she fancied him. Most of the questions were vague, though sometimes he would be able to discern the truth.
She wanted to make a career out of art, but had no way of knowing how. She had no plans for the summer, though she knew she didn’t want to go home. And she did fancy him. She fancied his mystery and his agony. Because of these things, Aaron started to form a plan.
By the time the school year ended, Aaron made all the arrangements he could. He sought Myra after class and handed her an envelope. She was stunned when she saw two tickets for a cruise. She tried to refuse, but Aaron was having none of it.
A month later, Myra looked up from her sketch to glance at Aaron. Their ship had landed in some country that she could not pronounce the name of, and they had taken advantage of that to become landlubbers once more. Myra decided to take a break from sketching her new boyfriend in various poses and dress, and instead was drawing the scenery before her.
The anciet tower of some house rose into the air. The drab color and broken bricks made it seem as if it was abandoned, but actually four families made their homes under its roof. The palm trees in the foreground provided a cheery contrast to the building, and to frame it all the deep blue ocean swept beyond everything.
Myra never did anything with her paintings. She carefully wrapped them and put them in her room. They never went anywhere. She was pleased enough that she could paint without feeling guilty, travel without having a plan.
Until, one day Aaron took it upon himself to show others her work. They were masterpieces, these people raved, Paintings that deserved to shown in the greatest galleries.
One day, a young lady saw her desolate house and palm trees painting. She had been contemplating on what to do with her life. Her parents wanted specific things for her, yet she knew it wasn’t what she wanted. When she saw that painting, she knew. She enrolled in the very same class that Myra had.
She wondered if her actions would ever be noticed. If what she did had an affect on people. I don’t think she realized that the greatest affect was on herself.
Myra was studying art at a community college. Her parents had told her that it was foolish. What kind of living you could possibly make from studying art? But she didn’t care. She loved the lines, the colors, that take form to make something beautiful. Her favorite form, though, was portraits.
Throughout her first semester, she studied about shadows, shapes, still life, and scenery. She excelled in all the classes, gaining the admiration of her peers and respect of her teachers. She was satisfied with this work, yet she yearned for more.
The first day of the second semester was a thrill for Myra. The class was to have their first live model. A man was simply going to come and sit in a chair for them, but she was excited to study this complex figure. Little did she know just how much the model would change her life.
After class, Myra stayed behind to adjust her drawing. The model had not been allowed to look at the art and he took this oppurtunity to look over Myra’s shoulders. What he saw took his breath away, for never before had he thought of himself the way this stranger was portraying him.
The seemingly dull eyes in life were now dark and foreboding, letting the observer believe that he had a great many thoughts in his head. The clothes didn’t just fall about him loosely; they told a tale of living day by day, taking what odd jobs he could to eat. Even the posture, the slouch he assumed, was no longer a lazy habit, but hunch, a sheltering for the rest of his body.
The model asked her why she drew him in such a way, but she merely replied that she drew what she saw. The model, Aaron was his name, did not believe her. She perceived something that most who came across him never guessed. He continued to talk to her, trying to decipher her passions and life. Such a woman who could see so deeply into him could not be ordinary.
She told him about a life of conflict, where her parents didn’t want to draw and she wanted to travel. Ever since she was small, she found awe in paintings by Monet, Van Gogh, and da Vinci. She wished to travel, to find different people and show them to the world in a new way. Aaron asked Myra why she couldn’t, but she merely shook her heard and packed up her things.
Over the next few months, Aaron continued to model for the art class, and Myra continued to see more than the others. He would ask her what her summer plans were, if she intended to make art her career, and whether or not she fancied him. Most of the questions were vague, though sometimes he would be able to discern the truth.
She wanted to make a career out of art, but had no way of knowing how. She had no plans for the summer, though she knew she didn’t want to go home. And she did fancy him. She fancied his mystery and his agony. Because of these things, Aaron started to form a plan.
By the time the school year ended, Aaron made all the arrangements he could. He sought Myra after class and handed her an envelope. She was stunned when she saw two tickets for a cruise. She tried to refuse, but Aaron was having none of it.
A month later, Myra looked up from her sketch to glance at Aaron. Their ship had landed in some country that she could not pronounce the name of, and they had taken advantage of that to become landlubbers once more. Myra decided to take a break from sketching her new boyfriend in various poses and dress, and instead was drawing the scenery before her.
The anciet tower of some house rose into the air. The drab color and broken bricks made it seem as if it was abandoned, but actually four families made their homes under its roof. The palm trees in the foreground provided a cheery contrast to the building, and to frame it all the deep blue ocean swept beyond everything.
Myra never did anything with her paintings. She carefully wrapped them and put them in her room. They never went anywhere. She was pleased enough that she could paint without feeling guilty, travel without having a plan.
Until, one day Aaron took it upon himself to show others her work. They were masterpieces, these people raved, Paintings that deserved to shown in the greatest galleries.
One day, a young lady saw her desolate house and palm trees painting. She had been contemplating on what to do with her life. Her parents wanted specific things for her, yet she knew it wasn’t what she wanted. When she saw that painting, she knew. She enrolled in the very same class that Myra had.
Mod
What did you think of the story, Cheyenne?
Mod
Mod
OK cool, sorry I didn't notice. And Nicola, I'm judging again...
Dun dun duuuuuunnnnnnnnn. :) just kidding...
I'm going to try to come up with something. I'm very busy right now but I like the picture.
I usually don't read anything until the contest is over, I don't want it to influence me.
There's only one and the contest ends tomorrow! I HATE YOU GUYS.How come everybody else's competitions are so much more popular?!
I seriously LOVE these competitions, I truly do, but honestly, I don't feel much for this photo. I could make a story but it wouldn't be very good because I'd be forcing it. Sorry :(
Yeah well... I took that picture and I wanted to see what people make of it. But as I'm even less popular online than I am in real life...
I'm not judging your work (or you). It has to do with my creativity, I suppose. Plus, I've been very busy and have no had time to truly concentrate on competitions.
But I'm sure you mean the 2nd of "September" not August as it was changed in the title.
Trust me other competitions aren't too popular either. This week is the first week of school as well and people are busy. Be patient, Pirl.
Mod
Pirl, I sent out the message. There isn't anything else I can do besides put it in the announcements thread which wouldn't do much good because nobody looks at it.
I would enter, but I don't have time to enter contests currently. Too many responsibilities to do a bunch of extra stuff. I apologize.
Pirl{a חame that sסuחds like spring} wrote: "Yeah well... I took that picture and I wanted to see what people make of it. But as I'm even less popular online than I am in real life..."I wouldn't take it too seriously. This is the second time a picture writing competition had to be extended. For whatever reason, people haven't gotten into it yet. I have an idea and will try to get it done tonight or tomorrow.
And He Turned the Storm into a WhisperIt was late in the morning and the storm had worn itself out a few hours ago. The wind damage had been worse than the rain - there wasn't much flooding and the breakwaters just barely held fast. Now the sky was nearly blue and it was a crisp 16 degrees Celsius.
Meg and her mother were at the old fort. They stood there in silence, both staring at the calm sea. The wind brushed Meg's hair off her shoulders and it fluttered behind her. Her mother sighed.
"We leave tomorrow," she said.
Meg frowned but didn't look at her mother at first. "It was nice having you visit."
Her mother raised her eyebrows. She clearly didn't believe her daughter. She crossed her arms and looked out to sea again.
"Your flight leaves from Ben Gurion at 11:30," Meg said.
"That's right.
"And you start at the kibbutz next week?" her mother asked.
"Yeah. For three months. Then..." Meg let the sentence go and looked down at her feet.
"Then what?" her mother asked. She turned to her daughter but stepped back a bit. Meg didn't look at her.
"Well, I'm thinking of staying after that."
"Staying? Why in the world would you want to do that?"
Meg sighed. This was the conversation she was definitely not looking forward to. "I like it here. And I feel like I'm doing something worthwhile."
Her mother shook her head. "I really don't understand. I mean, you're not even Jewish. And it's so dangerous here!"
"Tell me about one time you've been afraid of something happening on this visit," Meg said.
"I was always afraid! It's just - well, here in Tel Aviv..."
Meg rolled her eyes. "There was nothing and I've been fine for six months here. What are you worried about?"
"I'm worried about you here by yourself - "
"I'm not by myself."
" - and now you want to stay."
"I don't know how long I want to stay," Meg said.
Her mother tsked, and it was a sharp sound that broke through the air. Meg looked at her mother and kept her face free of any emotion or expression.
"Your father and I have been very understanding. You just graduated and you're trying to find yourself. But it's time for you to come home and find a job. Maybe go to graduate school. What are you going to do here in Israel?"
"I don't know, but I'll find something! You don't get it."
"No. I really don't."
"Mom, I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions and you have to accept that."
Her mother turned back to the sea. There was no one around, people were back in the city trying to clean up. Meg turned and took a few steps away. She scuffed her sneakers against the cobbled area.
"This is what you want."
"Yes."
Her mother sighed deeply. "I don't know if we can keep sending you money."
"All right," Meg said.
"And you're not staying here forever."
"Probably not."
Her mother tapped her on the shoulder. Meg stopped and her mother enveloped her in a tight hug. Meg started to tear up.
"Your father and I support you in anything you want to do. I just worry about you," her mother said. She pulled back and smoothed Meg's hair back.
"I know," Meg said.
Meg and her mother stood like that for a while and Meg sniffled. Her mother patted her on the back before letting her go. Meg stared out to sea and they stood in silence again.
I hope that was okay. I don't know much about Israel, I just looked a few things up online. (I've looked at your blog so I guessed where this picture was taken.)
I liked the story, Katie. The dialogue had me confused for a moment. You did ""Your flight leaves from Ben Gurion at 11:30," Meg said.", so then "That's right" and "Yeah. For three months. Then..." should have been the mother. I got it eventually, but you may want to watch out for that. Over all though, great story.
Yeah, I'll add more attributions. Thanks!
ok you all, reality check.1. Yes, there was a mistake in the title. Now there isn't.
2. The other half dozen competitions I judged were statistically less popular than ones judged by other people. I'm not exaggarating.
3. You're sorta being mean. Just a bit. No need to gang up. If someone said something, there's no need to repeat it a third time.
Nice story Katie but I'm not going to judge if there are only two entries.
We're not being mean, we're trying to reassure you. There is a difference. You could classify it as annoying because you don't like it, but it's not mean.
And It's a tie between me and Katie!! Wooooo!!!
And It's a tie between me and Katie!! Wooooo!!!
Well. It doesn't matter to me very much if it's judged. I was trying to help you out by entering. I don't understand how we're ganging up on you but you don't need to explain. This, though, might sound harsh: you're coming across as somewhat high-strung. I don't know what other people think but I might hesitate to enter another contest now.
Nicola wrote: "And It's a tie between me and Katie!! Woooo!!!"Silver lining! Congratulations, ma'am.
Pirl{a חame that sסuחds like spring} wrote: "http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphoto...Enjoy..."
Just exquisite! This photograph holds so many memories. The beautiful sunny by the ocean. The beauty of what was once there. It was just the ideal summer and one to make me forget of what once was. The past I left behind and the new life that lies ahead. No longer should I dwell in the struggles and disappoints that revolving my everyday life. Now I look forward to seeing, believing and living the life I can truly cherise. Becoming a traveller is what I knew I was always meant to be.
Pirl{a חame that sסuחds like spring} wrote: "Is that an entry?And thank you."
yes it is an entry
Sorry for there not being any more entries, but... Nicola, you're winner.
Enjoy...