Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
WRITING OBSTACLE
Inspired by Lou
Describe the colour of a character's soul.
You do not have to tell the reader who the character is; focus on description and metaphor.
Writings
Her soul looked bright and shiny to me. I’m not sure, it wasn’t a bright color, that’s for sure. But, when I saw her, her soul just shined through her school uniform. It was a radiant beam across the dull school hallway. Later, I noticed the same radiant glow coming out of the girl who sat in front of me in bio. I glanced at her face when she stood to present her bio project and discovered it was the same girl with the same joyous face. When she sat back down, I took a deep look inside her. Possibly I had been wrong, that happened sometimes when I was far from the person. Sure enough, her soul had a blinding shine to it, although the color was faded and gray. I heard voices echo in my head. What was happening? I heard words that formed into sentences, “I’m not good enough” “This is all my fault” “They hate me” “I ruin everything”.
Suddenly, I felt the air hit my face. I was out. I took a long look at the girl. Now that I had heard what her thoughts were, she didn’t look happy at all. She looked depressed, bored, and, frankly, sad.
Had I been imagining her joyous face simply because her soul was shining? Perhaps she was never happy, and it was all in my head.
Authors note: took the prompt in a little different direction but wanted to write this scene between my characters <3
The colorful flames overtook me immediately. It was warm, comforting almost, despite the searing pain behind my eyes as I took in its beauty. Everything around me slowed, Mctwist was throwing himself at me, trying to stop me or push me out of the way I assume. Victor’s family was a mix of people mid dance and mid panic. And then there was Victor, resplendent in the center of it all, a swirling chaos of reds and oranges and yellows surrounding him like the sun.
He’d always been surrounded by those colors. The eternal autumn of Forgnox framing his visage as he tended to his town, now everyone could see it, bright and powerful and warm. I closed my eyes, focusing on that image, on the man who practically raised me. When I opened my eyes again I was in an entirely new place. Off in the distance I heard hooves on asphalt, sharp whistles and indistinct chattering of passerby’s. My eyes adjusted to the blinding sunlight and the unfamiliar town it illuminated. Most likely Victor’s home town, before Hiraeth, if I had to guess.
Tentatively I stepped onto the busy streets, I could sense that I was not welcome, memories tend not to like when someone who doesn’t belong goes trudging through them unexpectedly. But something was wrong here well before my intrudence. I looked into the picture windows of the shops lining the streets, oddly reminiscent of Forgnox. Each had its own little theme and charm, rustic and creative with just enough sophistication to be considered classy if one was so bold. One shop stood out in particular though, “Costard Family Hat Shop.”
The picture window was filled with all sorts, one in particular was a deep velvet red, with large orange and yellow plumage sticking out of the base, and some delicate golden embroidery lining the trim. I could see his very soul in that hat. I stepped inside cautiously, looking around to see if my suspicions were correct. The second I laid eyes on him I knew. Although he was younger, and to put it delicately, alive, I recognized him in an instant. It was as if those flames still danced around him, radiating out from his heart to mine. He tilted his head at me, “Good morning Miss! Can I help you find anything?” He was oddly handsome, I had never seen him like this, he was so composed. Like a kid dressed up for church against their will. I smiled, “Can you tell me about this hat in the window? The red one.” His eyes lit up with that starry eyed spark, “I’m glad you asked!”
I was used to his monologues, and I had to admit he always made a good negotiator. The hat sitting atop my head felt weirdly right. But I knew this hat would be his, after all it’s the one he always wears. It matches him perfectly. I smiled and gently removed it, “You know it is a lovely hat,” I placed it firmly onto his head, adjusting it a tad before combing out the feathers, “But it looks quite dashing on you as well, Victor.” He smiled, giving the brim a tip down part ways before giving me a quizzical look, “Wait, how did you-?”
The fire receeded, and I collapsed to my knees with a ringing in my ears. I could hear someone calling for me, I saw Victors face come into focus again, back to how I knew him. He pulled me up staring me dead in the face until I could make out the noises around us again. “Writer? Are you alright?” I nodded, eyes staring down at my hands. I swore I could still see the flames, reds and oranges and yellows, all circling around Victor like fireflies. “What did you see…?”
Within the vessel renowned as the Grand High Lord was a Stygian aura, graced with raw melavolence. It danced through the royal blue veins carved beneath the Lord’s sallow flesh, and snailed to the dwelling of the sanctuary of his consciousness. Ochre threads weaved through the grotesque waltz of this very soul, devouring its nectarous woe.
It was a plague, and the Lord was feeble to fortify himself against it. Oft times it did not feel like his own soul, for he recalled it to be of the touch of serenity. All was wayward, now.
He can yellow like the bright, burning sun in the sky, like when he smiles or laughs it's as if the sun had stopped hiding behind clouds just to smile back. Flowers will even bloom around him in the dead of night just to greet him. Like the sun, he radiates warmth, giving life to every living thing around him. But every coin has two sides. Yellow is always described as positive, happy, joyful, yet yellow is also judgmental, stubborn and easily upset. He isn't just a ray of sunshine that can't be sad. Deep down he is human just like all of us.
The color of my soul is orange mixed with a light pink. My optimistic energy mixed with my kindness and sense of adventure. A Disney movie mixed with some fantasy books for teens. The taste of tea on my tongue. The life of music and songs. My favorite books. What it feels like to love. What it feels like to dance and sing like nobodies whatching. The feeling you get when you see the ones you love. The soft feeling of a warm cup of hot chocolate. The softness of clouds. The things you can reach when you believe. The things I dream that I can achieve. That feeling you get when you find yourself.
She was as vibrant as the sun.
Her smile was so bright and powerful it would heal the darkest of souls.
Her hair flowed freely like it would be a crime to pin it up.
Her golden waves cascaded down the back of her head in such a way that was mermerizing to perceive.
Her freckled skin looked as if it was kissed by the sun itself.
She was radiant.
A gleaming star shining so brightly it could blind those who aren’t careful.
I was careful.
I am always careful.
Once the light burns it burns out in the same breath.
I snuffed out her light.
I broke her so deeply she hasn’t smiled like she once did.
Once so bright; now so dark and cold.
As empty as the void of space is without it’s shining star.
The sun that used to be warm; is no longer there.
Her hair once always free as her spirit once was is now tied up in a mess atop her head.
The golden color that once radiated strength is now a muddy brown cold embrace.
She was my shining light, and I destroyed her.
As she stared into her reflection she starts to ponder. Could her soul be a gentle breeze? Or perhaps a star that twinkled softly in the night? Maybe her soul was the calmness you feel in your heart when you watch the sun rest below the horizon, or the clouds slowly growing as time passes by. Maybe the soul was alone, but found peace within the loneliness. Would it be that the sun offered its comfort, knowing that it was better to have the warmth of others than just yourself? Could the soul be blue like the soothing Sea or maybe grey like the mist after rain? Is it a gloomy song that you listen to in the hours of sleep, or was it just silent? These questions wrapped around her head, her curiosity grew larger. Was her soul a place, a feeling, or a sound? Was it a color, a taste, or could it be a smell? The question that remains unknown made her feel tensed, she wanted to understand but not matter how hard she tried she couldn’t. Maybe in the afterlife, her soul would be all that’s left of her, perhaps like a butterfly hatching out of its cocoon. Maybe the soul was never meant to be found, and it was to stay hidden away forever. She decided then and there, to sought out the soul that resides in her. And to be free from the cage she calls her body, to become her soul and confirm the answer to her questions that she always asked herself.
Blue; deep blue. Like the surface of the ocean at night. Her eyes wide. She doesn’t often smile, but when she does, it’s deep blue. She is a cloud; she holds the weight of waves behind her eyes. She looks down, but not on others. She stands tall with her chin up, at five foot two. She smiles, but she won’t smile at you.
Brown; warm brown. Like the fur coat of a feline in the sun. Closed mind, open heart, she keeps her walls up. Her kindness is distant, but if she lets you in, it’s toasted chestnuts. Reserved, but not shy. There’s wildflower seeds in her mind, but they have yet to be watered. Until then, she keeps her guard up; offers you a hand while her heart is caged up.
green fingers plunge deep unabashed into the soil sink into cool wetness against my tips or caress dry resistance crumbling turn towards the light joy uncurls from its sheath the green stretch of new growth petals blossom into exclamation points green fireworks of fenestrations Pinch away what’s spent dry leaves crunched into pockets held up to brightness bottom water till heavy and satiated drink deep unabashed into my soul green fingers
In my locket holds colors of my love’s soul.
Red like the pomegranates she grows. The stains they leave on my lips when she brushes her thumb against them.
Violet like the flowers. Flourishing from her heart, mind, and body. Never wilting.
White like her teeth when piercing my skin. Ripping layers off. Leaving me bare.
But the world is black and white. It won’t accept the colors I have or the things that brought them to me.
Therefore, the locket must remain closed.
Only I will know of the beauty she brings.
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