February 2011 Writing Challenge — MOSAIX!!

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A Song for Jonah

Listen! It is coming, in the dark, it is coming!
Inside, grey fish lie with missing eye and chewed fin, schooling in static death throes. Emaciated cattle with curtained skin and tiny lidless eyes lie bent, expired and milkless.
“Awake, awake, all awake!” It sings.
“Awaken. I sent you to sleep; now I have called you. Of the water but born of earth.”
Those are His words and this is the belly of the whale.
 
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Her gift

As I lay, staring upwards, at the stars and the moon, a whisper caught my ear.
An instinctual melody of humming and softly spoken words.
Her voice, could keep me at peace, even in the hardest of times.
Numbing my pains, and chasing my fears away.
Her words soothe me.
My comfort, my friend, my angel.
Always keeping me safe.
She is my mother, my world.
And this lullaby is her gift to me.
 
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Fell top, July, 7.30 am.


...And at the top, we fling ourselves down on the close-nibbled, dry turf, ease out of the rucksack straps, and press an ear to the ground...


The sharp bark of a sheepdog, down in the valley. Ignore it.

The low rumble of an distant airliner, carrying holidaymakers south. Blank it out.

And there it is. Can you hear it? Deep down, the far, faint, sweet melody...


The song of the Earth.
 
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Zimmerman’s Last Regret

On one cold winter’s day in the north country, a man met a woman. And being who he was he wrote a song for her, but left her behind in that desolate, beautiful place.

Thirty years pass. After epiphanies and heartbreak and overwhelming success, he takes to the stage as the greatest singer-songwriter the world has ever seen.

And with voice hoarse, he sings that distant song, and remembers the north country, and remembers her.
 
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Unsung Hero

His still-powerful hands clenched involuntarily, shattering the drinking bowl. The dregs dripped down fingers twisted with age, but the tears that blurred his view of the singer by the fire remained unshed. Bitter memory gripped him harder than Grendel ever had.
“Are you well, Elder?” asked a kindly ale-wench.
“Aye,” he croaked, ducking his head. I think of my brother, the liar, he almost said. But love stopped his tongue, even now.
 
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alt.history.de


Kurt dragged Lena through the partying masses. "I told you the west was the place to go," he shouted.

Fireworks illuminated the historic monuments, while the people laughed and cheered.
"Just in time," Lena said. "I wonder who's playing? Kraftwerk? Die Toten Hosen?"

A sparkly, leather-clad Hasselhoff started singing "I've been lookin' for freedom…"

"No!" Kurt screamed. The crowd cried in despair. Tears streaming down her cheeks, Lena placed a brick back in the Wall.
 
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Melody of Life

I hear it all around me, the melody of life; the hail drumming on my roof, the soft beating of my heart, the faint howl of wind through the trees.
I hear my own voice, a tenor in the choir of everything. We have all sung the song, for the universe sings with the voice of life.
 
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Toughest Man in the Galaxy

Earth died.
Nobody cared.

***
We crashed in the singing city.
Absolute beauty…
We cried.
Pierre scouted.

Day and night, Pierre ran, remembering:
Tearing apart blue-skinned little girls...
For Earth...

F*** Earth.

Pierre watched towers for snipers.
The song got him instead; the city singing
To him,
"You've a soul;"
"You're beautiful."

Pierre dropped,
Crying like a man,
Because the boy never could.

His gun to his head, Pierre whispered,
"No,"
"We're just meat and bones."
​
 
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96: the true meaning of the song.

96 souls lost to us mortals; men, boys, women and girls.
96 reasons never to forget, nor forgive the lies.
96 of the sea of thousands, let down by the system.
96 memories tarnished, their honour trampled on.
96 who followed their beleifs, to an untimely end.
96 tragedies on 15th April 1989.
96 families distraught and destroyed.
96 meanings given to their song,
96, You'll never walk alone.
 
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Birthday Song for a Fairy

Snowy world outside; silken bed of silken thread. I’m safe, warm, wings wrapped tight around tucked limbs. Time passes the season; I’m content in my cocoon. Why leave? Ignore the warm sun; ignore the fragrant flowers and snuggle deeper. But wait! That sound—a trill, a warble, a long sweet note. I stir inside and cannot resist. I tear free, taking flight on new wings to a mockingbird orchestra—a world worth being born in!
 
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The Last Night of Slick Tom Fisher

Throat hoarse from screaming, arms and legs chafed from ropes he lay there, helpless.
Christine, or Catherine, or whatever, hadn't been worth it, no matter what her husband thought.

He fought panic, listening through the night for a miracle. Then he became aware of a faint hum, a vibration beneath him. As the sun rose at one end of the tunnel and the headlights of the train lit the other, the rails sang his requiem.
 
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Joe was astonished the first time he heard the song. He’d stumbled into a meadow filled with flowers. They weren’t much to look at but their song touched him. Each plant emitted a sound, but it was the harmony that astonished him. Maybe they communicated through their roots, or maybe they were all one large entity, but somehow they made music together. Joe told nobody of this discovery. The song had to be protected.
 
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Mothersong

She sang the world into being.

Her notes rang clear and bright, bringing air and water and light. Long, somber lows birthed rich, fertile earth, and from quavering highs sprung the flowers and trees.

The last verses she saved for the creatures of the earth, and for man. Only here did she falter; she knew well his capacity for deeds both dark and great.

It has been too long since last we heard her song.
 
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The Challenge is closed. Congratulations everyone on excellent stories.

The link to the poll should appear shortly.
 
re: February Writing Challenge — Vote!!! — SEE LAST POST

The rules for voting are as follows:



Any member of the Chrons can cast a vote.​


Each member has only one vote to cast.​


The winner of the poll will choose the theme for March.​


The poll will close at midnight GMT on the 28th of Feruary 2011.​


To vote, follow this link:

February Writing Challenge - THE SONG - Poll (poll 4595609)

Good Luck!​
 
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