Week 13: Tia

11/26/2020

Prompt:
Bring any inanimate object to life. Take it in any direction.

Word Count:
120-250 words

Expectations:
-Remember that you are writing for the King's Academy community. Please be respectful of that community.
-Respect the word count
-Your work should have a title--this is not part of your word count.
-Include your full name and word count at the end of your submission.
-Have fun with this challenge.

Deadline:
22:00 Tuesday, December 1st
Photo Source:
https://www.istockphoto.com/vector/household-objects-gm134396501-14300562

5 Comments

Jawad Alazzeh

11/27/2020 12:47:35 pm

Legends have long told that a mask maker's last mask before he dies will hold some of the master's own life within it. Pietro, the Venetian master painted the last stroke of color on his final mask that he would not see sold. It was a beautiful velvety red, with yellow jawline stripes. His assistant Leonardo hung the mask to be sold the next day, saddened by his master’s passing. It was picked up by an unassuming tourist, Bauta, who placed it above his fireplace in London. The next day, Bauta interviewed for a job as a stockbroker. To relax his nerves, he humorously put the mask on his face, and looked into the mirror. Suddenly, he heard a voice, “Yes? Ask what you seek.” In the mirror he could see the mask’s mouth moving, contorting. “Three questions. I will respond with the absolute truth.”
Bauta’s first naïve question was, “There is this company...Zoom...should I buy the stock?” “Wait until the first quarter of 2019,” the Venetian mask revealed, “Keep in mind you can only call upon me before a mirror!” After Bauta bought the Zoom stocks, his bank account exploded, his career skyrocketed! He married well. He had no material need for the last two questions after that day, so he treasured them. Many years later, as he lay on his deathbed he asked for a hand-mirror and his mask, “What happens now?” he breathed. He never received the answer, nor did he ask his last question.

Jawad Alazzeh

Word count: 250 words

Mar Pizarro

12/1/2020 11:51:52 am

The clock in the shop

She walked through the door humming to herself an unrecognizable toon, I think it might have gone something like that song they're always playing over the speakers, but that's probably because it's the only song I know. If I hadn't been chosen by the man who wore 3 butterfly pins on his jacket she would have never noticed me.
“What odd pins for such a grey man.” she asked. I know that's not a question but she said it in a way that you knew she really meant to ask him why he was wearing the pins. And it really was unusual for a man dressed in such a dapper suit to wear such colorful pins. I always fantasize as to why, but Ill never really know, because he just glared at her with a look of anoyance that seemed to me completely inappropriate for the sensible question she had asked, put me down and walked away.
“Ooh how nice” she said
And the rest is history
word count-167

Tia Hammad

12/2/2020 01:04:34 am

Thank you so much for submitting. I really enjoyed reading both of your pieces.
Jawad, I love how you brought something that is so normal in our everyday lives, and added that fantastical element to it. I was gripped from the very first sentence. I also really like how you did not give us too much detail, and left something for our imagination.
Mar, I love the clock’s attempts to explain and rationalize something that we as humans effortlessly understand. You had great attention to details that made me feel like I was actually in the mind of a clock. Its thought process felt, for lack of a better word, realistic.
It was really hard to choose. Both pieces are very creative and interesting.
Congratulations Mar! You are the winner for this round.

Jaafar Wahbeh

12/29/2020 04:08:17 am

Lightning crossed the sky separating the clouds, like if it separated two companions of this idiosyncratic putrescible life. One of laughter and tears, yet only agony struck James' mind. Thunder roared in the sky like a microphone soothing what was deep down in James heart. What was left of his beloved Anna was a strip of her golden hair remaining on her chain. “Farewell, Anna my life companion… farewell” muttered James’ mouth. As he walked down the street with the heavy stomps of wretchedness. Soon after he could only open his eyes gazing at Anna’s hair holding too tight to his fist like a balsam… His mind raced and dashed. “Anna… my love and companion” his mouth muttered while touching her face. “Wa wa” the baby was shouting as James and Anna soothed him down. “Goaaaaaaal!” shouted James as his son kicked the ball with Anna next to him. The ball of memories kept rolling in the field bringing with it all the seconds that shape a lifetime, bringing Anna’s strip of hair back to life… Was it an omen or a lesson, all I know is “The tears we shed, water the gardens in our hearts'' as Ibn Arabi perfectly put it.

Jaafar Wahbeh

12/29/2020 04:13:21 am

Seconds Of A Lifetime

Lightning crossed the sky separating the clouds, like if it separated two companions of this idiosyncratic putrescible life. One of laughter and tears, yet only agony struck James' mind. Thunder roared in the sky like a microphone soothing what was deep down in James heart. What was left of his beloved Anna was a strip of her golden hair remaining on her chain. “Farewell, Anna my life companion… farewell” muttered James’ mouth. As he walked down the street with the heavy stomps of wretchedness. Soon after he could only open his eyes gazing at Anna’s hair holding too tight to his fist like a balsam… His mind raced and dashed. “Anna… my love and companion” his mouth muttered while touching her face. “Wa wa” the baby was shouting as James and Anna soothed him down. “Goaaaaaaal!” shouted James as his son kicked the ball with Anna next to him. The ball of memories kept rolling in the field bringing with it all the seconds that shape a lifetime, bringing Anna’s strip of hair back to life… Was it an omen or a lesson, all I know is “The tears we shed, water the gardens in our hearts'' as Ibn Arabi perfectly put it.

Word count: 203 words

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Week 13: Tia

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