Upstairs, Downstairs

io9 has a regular feature they call Concept Art Writing Prompts. They post a piece of art and invite readers to submit stories based upon the illustration. I've started writing short—very, very short—stories as a warm-up to my real writing. 

This is one is based on a piece by Radoslav Zilinsky.

Upstairs, Downstairs

Pilfdrox had read the old poems about the beauty of waterfalls, but they never made sense to him. He saw waterfalls every day of his life. They were pretty enough, he supposed, but they smelled horrible and if you weren't careful, you might get a little bit of their spray in your mouth or eyes and you'd be a goner. 

Chareeze alone had been to The City—had been born there, in fact, and lived her first thirty-five years in one of those miraculous towers. Life was easy there, she confirmed, whenever asked. Never too hot or too cold and never hungry. Then...then why did you leave? they would gape. The old woman would just smile. There was no need, no want, she'd say. There was also no joy. She'd see the doubt in their eyes and just smile. One day, she'd say. One day you'll understand.

No comments:

Post a Comment