Tag Archives: art
Starving Artists
Music to go along with this story: Staralfur by Sigur Ros.
Music played in the background as she was stretched out on the couch, resting her head on his lap and her feet on the arm of the old, beaten up couch. He played with her short, brown hair, and she smiled.
“I love how content we can be, just sitting here.” He nodded agreement. She continued. “Do you think we’ll be poor forever?”
“Poor but happy,” he said with a smile as she sat up and he put his arm around her, drawing her closing.
“That sounds nice,” she said, allowing herself to be pulled in.
“Starving artists, and all. But if you want we could totally get nine-to-five jobs. But…”
“We’d miss out on moments like this. If we worked normal jobs, we’d both just be getting home.”
“Complaining about work.”
“Worrying about dinner.”
“Fighting over who has to do the dishes.”
“That’s just not us.”
They both paused, thinking about this alternate world.
“You know, we end up with so many…”
“Responsibilities?” he finished. She smiled at this and nodded, placing her head on his shoulder.
“You know, there’s only one way to ever be free of them, ever again.”
“Going insane?”
“Exactly. And that would put the burden onto someone else, our parents, most likely. Seems unfair. But that’s our only possible escape, from here on out.”
She looked up and played with his hair in the back a little, pulling on it to make him smile.
“Insane is the idea of giving all this up,” she said. He nodded and picked up a nearby notebook.
“Tic tac toe?”
She smiled and they played.
Posted in flash fiction, Zoey and Xander
Tagged art, fiction, flash fiction, hipster, insanity, life, love, moment, responsibilty, short, Sigur Ros, Staralfur, starving artist, tic tac toe, Zoey and Xander
The Wish of the Wooden Man (A Flash Fiction Fantasy)
I sat at my art desk drawing a wooden model man. I had him posed as if he were frozen, mid-air, while skipping down the road. One arm flailed towards the heavens, the other reached out as if it would make him land an inch farther, both of his legs stretched as if jumping a hurdle.
That’s when I heard the voice. “Why?” It was calm, quiet, mysterious and yet manly. Almost whispered, with a childlike tone.
I looked around, confused.
“All I want is to be positioned naturally, just once.”
I strained my ears, listening for the source. It sounded as if it were right in front of me, coming from the wooden man, and yet, it also seemed to come from deep inside of me as well.
“What do you mean?” I asked, prying more words so as to detect the source.
“You always position me in unnatural poses. Jumping, dancing, walking, but never how a real person would jump, dance or walk. Always different from a human.”
It was definitely coming from the wooden man.
“It’s the part you play, my friend,” I said to him, turning the invisible face towards me so I could see if there were any visible changes.
“I just want to look human. I’m supposed to represent one. Why make me stand so many ways, and yet none of them make me feel more like you?”
“So what, I should sit you on the couch in front of the tv? Should I put you to sleep at night, under the covers?”
“You’re mocking me. All I want is to be like you. And you mock me.”
I turned him away from me a bit.
“I guess I never thought of you as a sentient being before. How was I to know this was what you wanted?”
“You should have known. You should have guessed.”
“Well, I apologize. How would you like to be posed? Your wish is granted. Tell me.”
The wooden statue failed to respond, trying to decide, I assumed. I picked him up so he knew I was serious. Finally he responded.
“Sitting in a chair. That’s what I would like.”
“Should I put you on an actual chair, or just position you as if you were sitting on one.”
“Those chairs are much too big for me. So I guess just a pretend chair.”
I picked him up and bent his legs, his back, his arms, and granted his wish.
Posted in flash fiction
Tagged art, drawing, fantasy, fiction, flash fiction, life, magic, magical realism, model, wish, wooden man
A Flash of Inspiration 