The grass looked lush and bright green in the late afternoon light. It sparkled, swirled, and danced in the breeze that engulfed the French country side. The sky was a deep blue -- that interesting hue just before it bursts into a million other colors with the sunset -- and speckled with stratus clouds. He was slightly built, just above average height. He walked with his head held high, his eyes fixed ahead of him, but not really looking at anything. His stride was neither too long nor too short, as if he had planned each step perfectly in advance. He strode past the wooden fence that had long needed to be repaired, and past the giant oak tree that rested just beside the dirt road that he walked every day after his shop closed. He took out his pocket watch and glanced nervously at the time, as he had done just a few moments before. He was not late for anything in particular, but he enjoyed arriving home at the same time each day. After speaking with a frustrating customer about the pricing of a tea set, he closed the shop at almost six minutes after five. On his way out, he saw that one of the china bowls had fallen behind the shelf and shattered. It must have happened while he was in the office in the back of the shop - why hadn't Anton noticed and told him about it, or better yet, cleaned it up himself? He sighed, and after he had finished sweeping it up, he was a full twenty minutes behind schedule. Now the wind picked up and swirled around him, threatening to pull off his hat. He placed his pale hand on top of his head and walked a little faster. The wind was beginning to form tiny twisters in the sand, throwing dirt on his new brown suit – the latest turn of the century fashion. He dusted the grains off of his coat, and reached for his pocket watch again. A sudden chilly gust approached him unexpectedly, grabbed his hat, and tossed it to the ground.
“Oh, for…” he bent down quickly, but the hat had skipped just out of his reach. He chased it all the way back to the oak tree where he thought he had cornered it, but it flew in another direction just as suddenly as before. It spun on its side off of the road, and the wind carried it across a rolling field, teasing him to run after it again. He stepped carefully over a broken fence post and jogged over to the hat in even strides. Each time he came close, it skipped away, and once it flew just over his head, barely grazing his tousled brown hair. He clenched his fists and watched helplessly. Further and further away the wind blew it, and he had almost given up when it became lodged between two branches of a small tree. He walked slowly over, quietly, as if he didn’t want the hat to hear him coming. He reached out carefully, gripped the brim, and quickly put it back on his head. A laugh escaped his lips. It was a pleasant laugh, not loud or jarring. He immediately pursed his lips and gazed back in the direction of the road, which he could not see from where he was standing, and stood for a moment with his hand firmly on top of his hat. He glanced at his pocket watch, let out a sigh, and decided that today it would be more beneficial to walk cross-country to his home, rather than trying to go back to the road.
He set out again, this time a little unevenly as he tromped over fallen branches and small hills. He approached a patch of orange poppies and stepped over them, all the time being careful to keep his hat, although the wind had died down. The sky was beginning to turn a sort of grey-purple, and the leaves on the trees resembled tiny emeralds, although he didn’t notice it. He sighed again at the sight of an especially large hill, and doubted his reasoning to walk across the field. He fumbled once as he tried to climb it, and almost tripped again as he came to the top. He straightened his coat, fixed his eyes ahead of him, and paused.
Enormous clouds had collected in front of the sun – its last light piercing through them in full, majestic rays. The sky behind it was washed in deep blue, violet, pink, and golden-orange. He stood still. It was as close as he had ever felt to a sunset, so close it almost seemed as if he were a part of it. “Shhh…” the wind said as it embraced him, causing the grass around him to dance at his feet. He slowly took his hand off of his hat. A flock of geese flew across the horizon, and disappeared. His breathing slowed. He could see his house in the distance. He started down, and stopped again, gazing at the clouds. Off his hat came again. He reached, this time so vigorously that he fell on his stomach, and caught the brim between two fingers. He laughed again. He saw something bright out of the corner of his eye. Another patch of poppies seemed as if they were dancing with the wind, seemed alive with laughter themselves. He reached over and picked one for his wife. He stood up, let out a different kind of sigh, and turned back to get a few more poppies. He was holding a full bouquet as the wind picked up and urged him on.
He walked down the hill in jagged strides as it chased after him. He quickened his pace, jogged a little, and eventually ran, dropping a few flowers on the ground. The whole world swirled around him in a blur of green, pink, orange, and blue until he reached his doorstep. He touched the doorknob, and looked behind him. The wind was at its peak, the part of the sky he could see had almost gone dark, he noticed. He smiled, opened the door determinedly, and caught a glimpse of the dancing trees just before it slammed shut.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vhQg2voYl9k&feature=related
The scenario for this story was based entirely on this piece. I envision this scene with the music in the background. The paragraph breaks occur when there is a slight break in the music, and the very last notes resemble a slamming door.
“Oh, for…” he bent down quickly, but the hat had skipped just out of his reach. He chased it all the way back to the oak tree where he thought he had cornered it, but it flew in another direction just as suddenly as before. It spun on its side off of the road, and the wind carried it across a rolling field, teasing him to run after it again. He stepped carefully over a broken fence post and jogged over to the hat in even strides. Each time he came close, it skipped away, and once it flew just over his head, barely grazing his tousled brown hair. He clenched his fists and watched helplessly. Further and further away the wind blew it, and he had almost given up when it became lodged between two branches of a small tree. He walked slowly over, quietly, as if he didn’t want the hat to hear him coming. He reached out carefully, gripped the brim, and quickly put it back on his head. A laugh escaped his lips. It was a pleasant laugh, not loud or jarring. He immediately pursed his lips and gazed back in the direction of the road, which he could not see from where he was standing, and stood for a moment with his hand firmly on top of his hat. He glanced at his pocket watch, let out a sigh, and decided that today it would be more beneficial to walk cross-country to his home, rather than trying to go back to the road.
He set out again, this time a little unevenly as he tromped over fallen branches and small hills. He approached a patch of orange poppies and stepped over them, all the time being careful to keep his hat, although the wind had died down. The sky was beginning to turn a sort of grey-purple, and the leaves on the trees resembled tiny emeralds, although he didn’t notice it. He sighed again at the sight of an especially large hill, and doubted his reasoning to walk across the field. He fumbled once as he tried to climb it, and almost tripped again as he came to the top. He straightened his coat, fixed his eyes ahead of him, and paused.
Enormous clouds had collected in front of the sun – its last light piercing through them in full, majestic rays. The sky behind it was washed in deep blue, violet, pink, and golden-orange. He stood still. It was as close as he had ever felt to a sunset, so close it almost seemed as if he were a part of it. “Shhh…” the wind said as it embraced him, causing the grass around him to dance at his feet. He slowly took his hand off of his hat. A flock of geese flew across the horizon, and disappeared. His breathing slowed. He could see his house in the distance. He started down, and stopped again, gazing at the clouds. Off his hat came again. He reached, this time so vigorously that he fell on his stomach, and caught the brim between two fingers. He laughed again. He saw something bright out of the corner of his eye. Another patch of poppies seemed as if they were dancing with the wind, seemed alive with laughter themselves. He reached over and picked one for his wife. He stood up, let out a different kind of sigh, and turned back to get a few more poppies. He was holding a full bouquet as the wind picked up and urged him on.
He walked down the hill in jagged strides as it chased after him. He quickened his pace, jogged a little, and eventually ran, dropping a few flowers on the ground. The whole world swirled around him in a blur of green, pink, orange, and blue until he reached his doorstep. He touched the doorknob, and looked behind him. The wind was at its peak, the part of the sky he could see had almost gone dark, he noticed. He smiled, opened the door determinedly, and caught a glimpse of the dancing trees just before it slammed shut.
The scenario for this story was based entirely on this piece. I envision this scene with the music in the background. The paragraph breaks occur when there is a slight break in the music, and the very last notes resemble a slamming door.
I love what you've done by drawing from the music (and, I assume the painting).
ReplyDeleteI think that the main character in this story is the landscape and the environment in general. What do you think about that? We do know something about the person in the story--I like the little details such as him constantly checking his watch and the broken bowl--but mostly we get a picture of the setting. It's most prominently described. It interacts with the other person. And it is the environment that gets the door slammed on it at the end.
I think the last line is my favorite: "He smiled, opened the door determinedly, and caught a glimpse of the dancing trees just before it slammed shut." Its happy. But also a little unclear about why the is door slammed (other than the music), which suggests that the scene might have a bit of a mixed emotion in it. But, this is one way to interpret it: The wind slams the door playful to push the man into the house with nature's flowers to give to his wife.
What you do think about that?
Thank you, Professor Corrigan, for your thoughts! I actually did not find that painting until after I had written my story, which was interesting, because it seems to fit so well with the landscape I was trying to describe.
ReplyDeleteThe environment was a character in my story, especially the wind, which, in some ways, I wanted to represent the Holy Spirit. I had never thought of it being the main character, but I think you're right. The man is mostly reacting to the wind, and other forms of creation.
I re-read my last line several times, and I agree that it is unclear who slams the door and why. Recently I was racing with my friend to a practice room, and when I got there first, I slammed the door hard in his face just before letting him in. I think this kind of "Ha! I win!" gesture was what I had in mind. The wind repeatedly lets Mr. Gradus "win" at its own game. He gets his hat back, picks the flowers, and "beats" it to his door.