Art and the philosophy of life


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She burst from the sun, flames following in her wake.  Eyes burning, she headed toward Earth.  It was time to settle old scores, she had given him enough time. He had failed.  Her heart ached to see the tiny planet in such bloody chaos.  She should have known that’s what he would do.  It’s what he always did.

As she fell through the atmosphere, she felt her fire cool.  She didn’t like being out of the Sun, she missed the heat, the flames, the never ending explosions and flares.  But it was her fault he was there.  Everyone thought she was crazy to try and stop him.  “After all,” they said, “Earth is just a rock floating around like all the other rocks, why do you care what happens to it?”  But she had been to Earth and she liked the small planet.  She thought it had potential, at least it did, before he went there and ruined everything.  He had destroyed planets and stars before, of course, this was hardly his first time out.

It was dark when she hit the ground.  The Moon shown down upon her, lighting her way.  She was standing in an alley, there was garbage everywhere.  The smell was disgusting and the darkness weighed heavy on her shoulders.  A stray cat was trying to find a bite to eat, so she picked the cat up and put her in the pouch she wore around her waist.  As soon as she started walking toward the street she realized that she would have to lighten her step, or else she would just keep cracking the cement and sounding like walking thunder.  Thunder, she thought.  He used to be a good friend, but now, they hardly spoke.  He liked darkness and storms, she was born of flame, it was an impossible relationship.

She glamoured herself as soon as she reached the end of the alley.  Anyone who saw her  would see a twenty-five year old female, with long black hair and gray eyes.  She glamoured the appropriate clothing and started to hunt.  The cat mewed a few times so she stopped at a small store and bought a can of cat food and a bottle of milk. Once the cat was finished eating she put her back into her pouch and continued on her way.

It didn’t take long to find him.  All she had to do was listen to the raging planet.  She called up Earth’s caretaker, who instantly appeared at her side.

“Sister,” she shouted, over the wailing of a billion voices.  “Take him NOW!”

They grasped arms and touched foreheads.  “Forgive me?”

“Get him off this planet,” the caretaker, yelled.  “You are forgiven.”  And then she was gone and the night was quiet.

“Babe?” he said.  “You here to see me?”

He was leaning against a building, wearing a black jacket, jeans, a white T-shirt and his black hair was combed straight back.

“You look like you’re from the 50’s,” she said, wondering if she could kill him.

“No, you can’t kill me.  You should know that by now.”  He lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and started blowing smoke rings.

“I trusted you.”

“Your mistake.  You’re a slow learner, always giving everyone more chances than they deserve.”

She walked toward him.  “I’m glad to see you again,” she whispered, letting a bit of her glamour fall away.

He pushed off from the wall and smiled.  “Yeah?  I thought you were mad at me.”

“I am,” she said, running her fingers through his hair.

He grabbed her and pulled her close.

She smiled at him and brushed his lips with hers.

“What took you so long to get here this time?”

“I wanted to see if you could change,” she purred.

“No one changes, Babe.  No one,” he laughed, leaning in for a real kiss.

“I know that now,” she sighed, holding him tightly.

Once their lips were locked she simply poured the sun into him and felt him burn.  When it was over, she pushed the toe of her shoe through the ashes at her feet and said her goodbyes.

“You did it,” said the caretaker, gratefully.

“He never would have changed,” she said.

“Violence never does,” agreed the Caretaker.

“You know he’s not really dead, don’t you?”

“I do,” muttered the caretaker sadly.

“The voices aren’t as loud.”

“No.  For a while we might have a little peace.”

“It’s all I could give you.   Well that not exactly true,” she said, taking the cat out of her pouch and passing it to the caretaker.

“She’s beautiful.  Thank you.”

“Her name is Sunspot.”

“Sunspot it shall be,” smiled the caretaker, fading from view.

The trip back to the Sun was uneventful.  She did what had to be done, but Violence would know what to look for when she went for him next time.  She let go of those thoughts, however, as hit the sun and and burst back into flames.



Comments on: "I picked out this picture. Bling and I are writing about it." (15)

  1. Its a great post..!

  2. OH yay I love this Bling! This is so wonderful! I love this burst into flames. I love that kiss that turned him to ash! I would like to do that sometimes! Not kidding! I love this so much! Here’s mine…It somehow turned into something a little transformed and shifted from my hell raiser old self. I’m okay with that. LOL But I still would love to strike fire on them sometimes. I hope you like it!

    • I think yours is fabulous. I just love it. Really fantastic poem and just perfect! Thank you for doing it. I am having so much fun with both of us working on the same picture. ❤

  3. Love this story Gigi – if only we could do that man by man.

  4. Reblogged this on Show An~Tell Me About It! and commented:
    I picked out this picture. Bling and I are writing about it. I also put the link at the bottom of mine!

  5. This is great! I love it!

  6. Great imagery, well done!

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