Two Stories, One Illustration ~ Part Two ~With Kiluminvti & A.J.Tawil

See gossamerlens.com to stay up-to-date with the current blog.
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    If you haven't already read Part One (click here to read) you might ask, "What does this title mean?"  Well let me explain, this post is apart of a collaboration with the artist Kiluminvti, and writer A.J.Tawil.  In this two part series two stories are told.  The first is featured in a previous post and is written by A.J.Tawil. The second story is shared below and told by myself.  Each story is unique and separate from the other, only linked by the fact that they are both inspired by what our imaginations saw when we viewed the following illustration done by Kiluminvti. 

     Without further ado, I present my story: 

     Slowly her fingers curled around the ribbon.  

     Her head caught in a cloud of ribbon, her shoulders brushed with it.  Her hands couldn't help but let it wind through them.  When had it appeared?  Who knew. Some said it had always been with her.  Some whispered that it had appeared out of the blue.  But no matter how people imagined it came into being... the fact was that it was.  Had she ever tried to rid herself of it? No! For she clung to it, as it was her uniqueness. None could claim, nor even remember, someone who had such a beautiful highlight of color.  Especially one that floated around, and about, and with them at all times. 

     Often people traveled to see this lady with the flowing ribbon.  It fascinated them.  The young men spoke of how it highlighted her graceful shape.  The mothers clucked and worried about their own daughters who were "not so naturally gifted." This lady never thought to tell of how sometimes it got in the way.  Of how she might be trying to help with chores, and instead she would catch in the ribbon.  As time went on, she didn't even think much of how it tore her away from work.  What was work anyway, when she had something that drew people towards her?  

     Now though, she sat.  Slowly her fingers curled around the ribbon.  In days past she had often thought outside of the ribbon.  Outside of letting it fascinate her.  But now, it no longer just drew her away from work.  It drew her away from reading.  Sometimes away from friends.  Once she had cared, now she let herself get caught in looking at the shimmering red of it, whenever she wanted.  Lately, as long as she wanted.  

     In fact, she couldn't stop looking.  Because really, wasn't all that she was?  It was beauty, it was special, people found her to see it.  So wasn't that what she should focus on?  Slowly her fingers curled around the ribbon.  Not knowing her own thoughts and the questions brewing.  Her fingers curled around the ribbon.  She just knew it felt like everything.  Her fingers curled around the ribbon. 

     Slowly. Curled. Around. Like the drowning of a mind. 

     Loosing herself in what everyone else could see. 

     Forgetting to be

~~~

   Thank you for reading! 

If you would like to see more of Kiluminvti's art some of A.J. Tawil's writing simply click on the name of either artist (anywhere in this post) and it will take you to more of their work. 

Want to read Part One of this collaboration? Click here

Two Stories, One Illustration ~ Part One ~ With Kiluminvti & A.J.Tawil

See gossamerlens.com to stay up-to-date with the current blog.
________________________________________________________

    What does this title mean you may ask?  Well let me explain, this post is part of a collaboration with the artist Kiluminvti, and writer A.J.Tawil.  In this two part series two stories shall be told.  The first is featured in this post and is written by A.J.Tawil. The second story shall be told by myself, next week.  Each story is unique and separate from the other, only linked by the fact that they are both inspired by what our imaginations saw when we viewed the following illustration done by Kiluminvti. 

     Without further ado, I present to you A.J.Tawil's story:

     A dreadful story it is that I am too afraid to speak it. Thus it will be written down on black and white. Do not read aloud not even in whispers for she will hear and only misery will be upon you. Arielle she was once called a beautiful and fair lady. She was kind, and lovely. At the age of 12 her mother died of a violent fever as they all mourned her death she swore an: that never in her life will she be standing idle and useless. 

     A healer she became at the age of 16. The youngest of them but the most talented. She went from town to town, leaving her father, brothers and sisters behind. Although they were proud they were sad for a presence like hers couldn't ever be replaced. She healed and treated the rich as well as the poor. She was believed by many to be a Saint. She smiled much and her gaze was enough to cure all your heart's sorrows. 

     One day in the town of Flamant she met this boy this little kid of too few a winter to die. She spent sun and moon trying to heal him until he passed away in her arms. The eldest brother, although pained with grief, grew found of the courageous and inspiring woman and she as well. He was brave young man that would anything for his family, she thought.

     They wed a year later in Arielle's home town of Lyon many attended her wedding. High lords, Nobles, peasants and kings were all there to celebrate her wedding. She was loved by all. The newlyweds went on the road together and made a stop in Ashton. Beautiful Ashton, the moon shined, the food was excellent, and the weather perfect. 

     She strolled around walking from street to street, admiring the city with her husband until a sudden pull swept her off her feet. It was two lowlifes scums pulling her towards them by her hair. She fought back but overwhelmed by a surprise hit to the head, she fell flat on her stomach. One was holding her down by the arms with his nose sniffing her beautiful black hair.She looked up for an instant just to realize that her husband the young brave man she loved so dearly was running away from the scene without a glance back. She yelled and fought so hard that the one mounting her hit her on the back of her head. ''That's a nice ring ya' have have '' he spat he went for the wedding band, while the other held her wrist. She didn't let them take it so easily, although betrayed. The rogue drew his knife and cut of the finger that was bearing the jewel.

     The rest is history. She was raped, punched, kicked and left to die.

~~~

   Thank you for reading! 

If you would like to see more of Kiluminvti's art some of A.J. Tawil's writing simply click on the name of either artist (anywhere in this post) and it will take you to more of their work.