I lie in the dark writing this with only a soft glow from the bedside light to illuminate these pages. A moth flits around it, inexplicably drawn. I suppose to that small creature the light represents something of wondrous and immeasurable beauty. Its fascination will be its destruction in the end, what it is drawn to destroys it andI suppose that’s typical of people too. when we become consumed by something, obsessed with it and when it becomes our sole and primary focus that is when we cease to function as people. I suppose beauty is a siren, her song calls out to the desperate, calling them, luring them and for that one ephemeral moment the weary traveller cannot see anything apart from the breeze catching in her hair and the plump fullness of her crimson mouth. Her beauty is so ethereal, so complete, so captivating that the traveller never realises he has been destroyed.
A contest entry
- best scene by Fiddlewilly.
100 points, ended January 20, 18 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Indeed, beauty is a powerful light and all human-moths are drawn to the light of beauty's dreams.
Your writing is so readable... Write on...
Ron.
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I love this!
Great stuff
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