I snapped this photo in rural Colorado, where cannabis is legal to sell and buy.
What would you like to see made legal? Or, conversely, what would you make illegal? Create a story around this. Note: the legal or illegal item doesn’t necessarily need to be something that actually exists.
If you write or create something prompted by this, please send an email to judydarley(at)iCloud.com to let me know. With your permission, I’ll publish it on SkyLightRain.com.
Known by locals as the Bean, the Cloud Gate sculpture by Anish Kapoorresembles a gigantic silvery globular mirror. It rests in the AT&T Plaza at Chicago’s Millennium Park like a capsized UFO, enticing tourists and passersby to pause and photograph their own reflection.
A vehicle to our own selfie-obsessed vanity, it’s a perfect tool for people-watching, as well as capturing views of the Chicago cityscape.
Imagine the alien society that might have placed this in our midst. Could they be the same interstellar race that thought to populate our Internet with kitten videos? What might their aim be? What could be the next step in their insidious plan?
If you write or create something prompted by this, please send an email to judydarley(at)iCloud.com to let me know. With your permission, I’ll publish it on SkyLightRain.com.
Fairytales feed into our consciousness from our earliest days. From myths to the whispers that emerge on shadowy evenings, to the fear of that creature that may lurk under beds or inside cupboards, they rattle through our blood and shape our understanding of narrative, as well as of the world.
I recently read Amy Wilson‘s excellent debut A Girl Called Owl, which draws on old mythology concerning Jack Frost, his brethren and the fay. And I often dip into an ancient copy of Tor Åge Bringsvaerd‘s entrancing book Phantoms And Fairies From Norwegian Folklore.
When I saw this woodland grave in a rustic cemetery, my intrigue was piqued. I imagined the people who might have laid someone to rest here, amid the trees and insects.
My resulting story, Invertebrates, has been published in Issue 8 of Door Is A Jar Magazine, which is available to buy here.
Here are the first lines, to set the scene for you:
We dug her up each solstice, and each time she was a little lighter, her joints a little more unhinged. I worried she might come apart entirely, sinew and bones giving way as we propped her in the place of honor.
Why not turn an unexpected glimpse into a story of your own, shouldering it in fairytales or fables for added resonance?
If you write or create something prompted by this, please send an email to judydarley(at)iCloud.com to let me know. With your permission, I’ll publish it on SkyLightRain.com.