A picture worth a thousand words - [Updates every 2 weeks]

[Scottie]

https://i.imgur.com/IKp6n1F.jpg?1

Does anyone else find themselves getting lost in a beautiful picture...Imagining the world around the picture...the conversation that the people are having...the music they are hearing...the smells of the fresh fruit before them...what they do after the image has been taken….

No...Just me…

https://media2.giphy.com/media/vhaj0GMFlIeFa/giphy.gif

I am sure there are many of you out there in RPA who could conjure a whole story around a picture. Who could let inspiration capture you in its shiny claws and drag you into a whole new world??

https://media2.giphy.com/media/yyvSeRGVj4C64/giphy.gif

So that is what I ask of you, dear embers of RPA. Tell me the story behind these pictures! You could write an explanation for the picture, the conversation the occupants could be having or just write a story that is based off the picture!!

I will post two new photos every fortnight in this thread, you can choose one of the photos to write a story about or if the fancy catches you, you can do both!!

Rules

On Friday the 2nd and 16th of April, I will pop two images into this thread to inspire you all!
your submission!
Entries must be formatted into short stories!
Entries must be 1000 words but I will accept going under or over if you send me a gif of a pug!!
Entries must be submitted in PM form to Scottie; and should not be posted in this thread. Please spoiler your story and tell me which image you are writing about.
Please keep thread chatter to a minimum.
All RPA rules apply!


The end submission date for this game is Friday the 30th of April (Midnight EST). When submissions are sent to me, I will upload them into this thread so that everyone can enjoy them!

Let the images come flooding to you!! I cannot wait to see what your creative minds conjure up!!

https://media1.giphy.com/media/aQYR1p8saOQla/giphy.gif

Friday 2nd of April prompts:

https://images.pexels.com/photos/1165982/pexels-photo-1165982.jpeg?auto=compress&cs=tinysrgb&dpr=1&w=500

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/56/7c/d1/567cd196b082960d4a891438cda192d7.jpg

Friday of April prompts:

https://i.redd.it/qnv211k3kmsx.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/EGAQato.jpg?1

Inspiration credit must be given to two similar threads created by our lovely members @Rabbit; (Curse your very hard to tag name!!) and Merry;

Update!

Image two has now been fixed, if you have any issues seeing any of the images please do message me!

[Scottie]

Submissions

I will post submissions here as I receive them! Once again, please do not post your submissions directly into this thread.

In the gloom of the day, nothing was any more visible than the shadow of night thanks to the trees stretching up to choke the cloudy sky. It was by mere luck that the sun bravely peered through the murky forst to eventually find some patches of spoiled earth to gaze upon.

In the hollow empty wind, a tense silence was suddenly broken with a sharp snap. It could have been the sound of a bone being broken, a neck being snapped, but no... it was a twig, a dead little twig on the ground being broken under a footstep.

Out of the shadows, stepping on twigs and rustling leaves, was... Errol! The wide eyed young Errol looked around, happy to be out of the shadows as he smiled upon the nightmarish world. The sort of smile born of youthful naivety and optimism! Yes today was a glorious day in Errol's wide shining eyes. He knew that today he would finally find food!

The tiny youth walked along the ground of the forest floor, ever hopeful as he looked between gnarled branches and twisted roots. There were many bones and foul fungus littering the floor of this macabre maze, but Errol just skipped along unaware of what lay nearby. He was alone in this world but still glad to be alive for the moment.

Errol had a nasty fall, but he was getting better at finding his way. Also unlike other young boys who had found their way into this dreary place, he was confident he could find his way out. Unlike all the others who had been eaten here, he was not going to get lost or trapped. Nothing like what happened to the corpse he suddenly stumbled upon around a bend!

Their, lifeless, grey, and festering before little Errol was a body... He stared at it with eyes bulging, heart pounding, and breath caught in his nose as he smelled decay... He had never seen an actual fresh meaty husk like this before. He had seen bones and heard of such sights, but this was like nothing he had seen in his young life before...

Inching closer, the wary boy looked around for signs of what made the teeth marks in its flesh. Wondered what made such large paw prints in the blood soaked soil. Listened to ensure nothing breathed except him as he prodded the corpse... Once he was certain all was safe... all was clear... Errol gleefully bit into the corpse! Finally, finally! something to eat! Anything to eat after days!

While young Errol was desperately making a mess of himself on the first thing he had found in ages to eat, a shadow loomed over him. A set of claw covered paws crept closer. A set of keen ears listened as feral eyes locked on his tiny form. Errol was making too much squishy vile noise to hear the growl from the fanged muzzle... Only at last did he notice all go dark as a silhouette engulfed him...

In a flash of motion and a howl of fury, the beast lunged down at the young boy, giving him only a moment to comprehend his fate. The jaws closed around skin and tore it from bone. The monstrous form dove down and ripped a mouthful of foolish meat from the ground. But it was cold and the blood was old! The beast spat out the corpses flesh, missing the boy and biting its old kill!

Looking back behind him, the large eyed Errol breathed a sigh of relief seeing the beast watch him flee in frustration. It could chase down a deer with ease, and tear down a wolf with ease. It could hunt at night and chase prey up trees. The mountain lion was the nightmare of the forest, and the bane of all living things. But not even that terrible shadow of death could catch little Errol, the baby vulture.

"Harlots wear red, especially with their ankles practically rouged for the world to see."

Margot tucked a strand of hair behind her older sister's ear and placed her hand on her shoulder as she turned a withering look on Nanette's smug face beyond the artist's easel. The man swirled his brush in a jar, silently eyeing the young ladies from his peripheral vision.

"That necklace looks more like a sonnaille than precious stone. You'd wear blue velvet and slippers instead of those horrid boots if your mind weren't as thick as those shamelessly flaunted calves."

Slowly blinking in her effort to remain still for the portraiture, Sylvia Minnjo traced her nails along the edge of the basket she held and considered flinging it at the other girl's head. Margot's fingers tightened faintly, indicating it was better not to move. If they had to sit one more time for this insufferably slow painting, they would both go mad. Besides, Margot hated the stifling feel of a corset and every pleat and bow that cinched her into her elaborate golden dress began to grate on her nerves.

"I hear she is engaged to Eddie Rotheschild," Margot soothed quietly.

"Bad luck," clucked Sylvia in return. "What is he? Forty years her senior?"

"Something like. I hear his family has fallen on hard times."

"Mm, that'll be the dowry then. I wonder if that mouth could fit a whole dainty slipper."

"Oh, you shouldn't speak like that. Brocade is impossible to clean. No sense ruining good footwear."

"Do you think that she knows her beauty mark has been sliding around her chin all this while?"

"Is it? I was too busy watching her neck try to hold up that massive wig in addition to that enormous head."

"That 'ostrich' is made of chicken feathers or I'm a peahen."

"The peahen is mightier than the perruquier."

"But is the quill mightier than the bill? If she paid for ostrich, she really is a goose."

"Let's leave shaking of tailfeathers to the boys."

"Just trying to give her a basket for those tulips. If the speed of delivery makes them bloom, that's just a good job done."

"Say, Nanette," Sylvia raised her voice above the quiet, nonsensical conversation she and her sister had been having, "Are those jesses in your hair? Raising hunting birds in that nest these days are you? The fleas go off to join the circus?"

"Sylvia." Margot chided sharply despite the hint of a giggle in her voice.

Sylvia batted her lashes all too sweetly. "Just inquiring after Nanette's grooming as she's been so kind to offer us her insights into our attire."

Doing her best to blank her face, Margot chuckled enough that the hat in her hand slid. She managed to catch it by the sash.

"Nanette," Sylvia continued, "What is that enchanting fragrance you're wearing? Smells a bit like... unpaid taxes and tears."

Nanette was pink, of course, by this point and, having nothing more to add she decided she had had enough of the sisters' babble. She gathered up her skirts and went on her way in a huff. That insufferable pair never took anything seriously. It was really a chore to deal with them, their constant prattling to each other almost never stopping no matter how many tips she tried to give them for improving their look or their attitudes. Couldn’t they see she was doing them a favour?

"Give the other harlots my regards when you go to collect more fashion gossip, please, darling!" Sylvia called after her.

Nanette stamped from the room in a fit to rejoin her parents where they sat at tea with the girls’ father. Heady spring air blew in from the windowed doors all standing open into the gardens. The ripple of Nanette’s pink satin gown could be seen traversing the grounds like an angry gust of taffy.

This snipping exchange was quickly forgotten by the sisters though it was not, however, lost on the painter. He decided to encapsulate them in their element: crushing the spirits of out of pocket young ladies who poked their noses where they did not belong. Their eyes looked out at the day, gowns arranged on a sofa in the same way they had posed for him at sunset to capture the scene for the painting. They had retired to the cooler interior of the estate for their other sittings.

"What's after this?" Sylvia asked her younger sister, suddenly noticing how tall she sat beside her and the hand that became a half-lean on her shoulder.

"Lunch, perhaps? A trip to the tailor? I hear he just received a fine new shipment from Paris."

"Perhaps the brick-layer first so I can stack a few on that towering head of yours."

Margot smirked, "Jealousy doesn't become you, little prawn."

"Whale, keep it up and I'll show you little."

"Now, now, don't trout."

Sylvia sighed and they both snickered softly. "You are antagonising me on porpoise."

"No!" Margot gasped, snatching a handful of flowers and flinging them at her sister. Half of them ended on the ground with the rest either draped over Sylvia's wrist or caught in the scarf about Margot's hat. Absently, Sylvia arranged them along the hat. "Oopsy-daisy."

"Forever immortalised with a hat full of poppies and weeds. How dare you."

"I'm just a bad seed, I suppose. The very carnation of evil."

"Oof, why-? Oh! Father's coming. Mum's the word."

Both girls resumed their proper portrait poses, traces of laughter still in their eyes and elbows needling each other discreetly as the man came to stand behind the painter.

A bead of sweat rolled down the artist's temple. It was always hard to tell what a patron might truly value in his subjects, but the man clapped his shoulder and gave a rare smile. "Excellent work, Noverek. I look forward to seeing it finished."

The painter smiled in relief and eyed the black boots amidst the finery of the scene with a chuckle.[/QUOTE]