[Lost] Vampires and Castles in the Sky
Oct. 30th, 2010 06:22 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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writing_shadows Man, I haven't posted in ages! Well, here's my posts for the November challenges (Venue Swapping and Before the Change).
(Venue Swapping)
He makes a great vampire.
Ventrue, undoubtedly.
Invictus, of course.
What’s next? Princedom? No, no, a place for everyone and everyone in their place. Princedom is for those who love the limelight. The real power is behind the throne, putting each person in the place they need to be.
And what is the place everyone needs to be in? Why the place he puts them in, of course.
Say what you like, Delun made an excellent vampire.
******
(Before the Change)
Today, she thinks, she will draw a castle in the sky.
Nurse is always telling her to get her head out of the clouds, after all.
And how to do the clouds? White crayon never shows up. Unless, of course, we use black paper.
A castle in the night sky, then.
And there should be stars.
Lots of stars.
The whole day shall be dedicated to this masterpiece, her magnum opus. She will use the biggest sheet of paper, she will prepare.
She will sharpen all the crayons, find her favourite star stickers. (Gold ones are too tacky, let us stick to silver).
The castle...how many turrets will it have? Turrets are important. Not just two, for symmetries’ sake, but not a dozen, either. No, she remembers, still, the aesthetic fiasco of the castle with a dozen towers. How did all the inhabitants get anywhere? (The disaster was remedied by hastily making all the inhabitants a kind of Rapunzel sisterhood, but it felt a hollow fix, at best).
Three turrets, then. One on either side—the classic designs are always the best, and the third in the middle. They shall all have pennants. It would be silly, otherwise.
No one disturbs her.
No one would, or ever did. Children should be seen and not heard, or better still, not there at all!
As the sun sets and night falls, she holds up her masterpiece, her pride and joy and grins, a grin to split her tiny face nearly in half.
Perfect!
“This!” She pronounces, to no one in particular, “Is the very best castle ever!”
And it is a sight to behold. Spiralling turrets, white as ivory and bone, ice blue pennants that flutter forever in the diamond studded night sky—the clouds that moor it drifting, gently, like the first snow of winter. Perfect.
She sets it carefully on the windowsill of the greenhouse where she spends her days, fussily making sure it is in the very best spot before clearing away her crayons and heading, exhausted, to bed.
The next day, the picture is gone and she is too polite, too quiet, and too invisible, to bother asking anyone if they know where it went. But the greenhouse door is ajar, and a cold breeze makes her shiver before she pulls it closed.
There will be other castles.
(Venue Swapping)
He makes a great vampire.
Ventrue, undoubtedly.
Invictus, of course.
What’s next? Princedom? No, no, a place for everyone and everyone in their place. Princedom is for those who love the limelight. The real power is behind the throne, putting each person in the place they need to be.
And what is the place everyone needs to be in? Why the place he puts them in, of course.
Say what you like, Delun made an excellent vampire.
******
(Before the Change)
Today, she thinks, she will draw a castle in the sky.
Nurse is always telling her to get her head out of the clouds, after all.
And how to do the clouds? White crayon never shows up. Unless, of course, we use black paper.
A castle in the night sky, then.
And there should be stars.
Lots of stars.
The whole day shall be dedicated to this masterpiece, her magnum opus. She will use the biggest sheet of paper, she will prepare.
She will sharpen all the crayons, find her favourite star stickers. (Gold ones are too tacky, let us stick to silver).
The castle...how many turrets will it have? Turrets are important. Not just two, for symmetries’ sake, but not a dozen, either. No, she remembers, still, the aesthetic fiasco of the castle with a dozen towers. How did all the inhabitants get anywhere? (The disaster was remedied by hastily making all the inhabitants a kind of Rapunzel sisterhood, but it felt a hollow fix, at best).
Three turrets, then. One on either side—the classic designs are always the best, and the third in the middle. They shall all have pennants. It would be silly, otherwise.
No one disturbs her.
No one would, or ever did. Children should be seen and not heard, or better still, not there at all!
As the sun sets and night falls, she holds up her masterpiece, her pride and joy and grins, a grin to split her tiny face nearly in half.
Perfect!
“This!” She pronounces, to no one in particular, “Is the very best castle ever!”
And it is a sight to behold. Spiralling turrets, white as ivory and bone, ice blue pennants that flutter forever in the diamond studded night sky—the clouds that moor it drifting, gently, like the first snow of winter. Perfect.
She sets it carefully on the windowsill of the greenhouse where she spends her days, fussily making sure it is in the very best spot before clearing away her crayons and heading, exhausted, to bed.
The next day, the picture is gone and she is too polite, too quiet, and too invisible, to bother asking anyone if they know where it went. But the greenhouse door is ajar, and a cold breeze makes her shiver before she pulls it closed.
There will be other castles.
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