Writing Prompt ~ Fly Away

Hello!

Featuring those who submitted to the January 6th, 2012 to January 13th, 2012 writing prompt from Live-Love-Write, here are the participants for this week, featured in style, along with information on the newest prompt. Please remember to fave this journal to help support your work and the prompt!

The piece that stood out to me most was:
amnesiawe dance
in the artificial moonlight,
to the rhythm
of yesterday's lies.
(she is lost, broken, i am nothing
at all.)
and our eyes sing
  "the sun doesn't blind us,
   the sun is no more,
   forget all the beauty
   we used to live for."
she dreams of interlaced fears, terror
twisted into
nightmare.
i don't dream at all.
A beautiful and interesting piece! It hinges on the abstract side, but it's a very good read.

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Last Week's Writing Prompt

“Artificial Moonlight”

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Poetry
amnesiawe dance
in the artificial moonlight,
to the rhythm
of yesterday's lies.
(she is lost, broken, i am nothing
at all.)
and our eyes sing
  "the sun doesn't blind us,
   the sun is no more,
   forget all the beauty
   we used to live for."
she dreams of interlaced fears, terror
twisted into
nightmare.
i don't dream at all. :thumb278746607: :thumb278216184: The Last QuarterI wait for the day when I find those two bits,
And always I think of the day we shall meet.
Perhaps when I walk along, going my way,
A glittering coin on the asphalted street
Will brilliantly shine like a nickel-clad moon.
I'll look down the street to my left, then my right,
And see if its owner is scrambling about
Like a man who is lost in the darkest of night.
But the full moon may rise as it has through the years,
When I trade in a green-colored flat galaxy
For change in the form of a palmful of moons.
I think of the old Texas gleam: Will it be? :thumb278423927:

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Prose
:thumb278618711: The Soul of the MoonHer eyes were cold and pale, and sometimes I caught myself staring. Sometimes she caught me too. And when she did she would just smile and nod and I wouldn't know if that meant it was okay or if she had just accepted it as a brutal but necessary part of her reality. I never really knew her, just watched her from a few feet away as she journeyed through her life like it was something special. Oh, we talked, sure, but our connection was nothing more than a quick brushing together of our two fleeting existences, like the distant pull of gravity from some far away moon, hardly there at all. But like gravity, our acquaintance with each other had a peculiar lasting power. Her words would linger in my thoughts, living like my own, long after I had spoken with her. At night I would hear her voice filtering in through the chattering of my ears and I thought, at first, that I was probably going crazy. Then I realized that was just how she affected everyone. You wouldn't think it when you looked Fake outIt's fake. But then again, so is everything else in this New World they've dragged us to. I suppose it's not so hard to believe that we destroyed our planet, that a bare six million people escaped the rubble of Earth on the unprepared ships. All that bullshit about cryo sleep was blown out the window. It's a sleep full of horrifying dreams and half awareness.
The new planet seemed to materialize out of nowhere, it's not a planet anyone on Earth had documented before, but here it was, suddenly, waiting for us, far from the moon...but not as far from the sun. So, yes, our daylight is real, but dim. Standing on the planet's surface is only possible with an oxygen supply, and those are hard to come by as of late... But here, inside the huge dome that serves as America's replacement habitat, there are stars. Not real stars, because we'd have to be outside, and that's impossible. Admittedly, we're the smallest group of survivors, but we make due. Back to the stars, I suppose.
T Artificial moonThe gentle lapsing off the ocean was like silent melodies to my ears, a sound of sweetness to my soul. My gaze set upon the blue moon that rose up beyond the surf, dull, plain like the taste of kisses long forgotten. In my solitude I could not stare at anything else, for the beauty that I had once seen within the shape and glow of its glory now lay idol and ugly.  I could feel my heart yearn for the long ago days where it was my source of hope and happiness, but now…now that was fading in my memories. It left me alone, cold like the blueness of its surface. I longed for that artificial stare it froze me with to vanish, to never look upon me that way again. For the coldness and darkness of my past was wiped clean… in the dead of night I longed for the light of day… for the sun to shine again. For within the glow of its love and warmth was all I longed to feel, the warmth of its sincerity. Breaking the trance one last time I turned, with the gentle waves still da Artificial MoonlightIt's a new room, new space, an unfamiliar space. There's an unfamiliar body next to mine. Unfamiliar arms wrapped around me. Unfamiliar stomach against my back. Unfamiliar breath across my ear. Last night was new and unfamiliar.
The sun oozes through the blinds slowly, like cold oil; it looks light moonlight. I realize after a few sleepy blinks that it's morning. It's morning, and I've hardly slept. The light sits softly on my new lover's cheek, like moonlight. But the fresh, gray feeling of the dawn is unmistakable. It's nearly time to wake up, to leave, to end our night and move on.
But the magic of imitation moonlight cradles me. Lingering kisses, lingering touches, small smiles as eyes close and we sink back into the night. Then, buzz of the alarm; the spell breaks. It's well and truly morning. Even though, in this new and unfamiliar room, it's still the midnight of a full moon. :thumb279088646:

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This week's (January 13th, 2012 to January 20th) writing prompt is:

“Fly Away”

Take to the skies and escape. But what are you escaping? What brings you skyward?

You can feel free to write about a fictional scenario as long as the submission is original.

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