Winterfest Ekphrasis

January 8, 2015

Dear Readers,

I’m going to shift, at least a portion of my attention, to the major three-year-old events that lead up to the Triple Crown. This includes the Sham at Santa Anita Park on Saturday. I plan on taking a long look at the entrants tomorrow and I’ll post my opinions on Saturday.

Lately most of my attention has been focused on various writing assignments and deadlines. One of which was the Winterfest event the California Writers Club, Tri-Valley Branch, puts on each year. As part of this celebration they include an Ekphrasis where members submit works of art, be they photo, craft, painting or drawing. Members are encouraged to write a poem, haiku or a short story to be displayed next to the image.

To that end I submitted a crayon drawing I’d created a few years ago. Next I wrote a short story to accompany it. Here is the portrait and the short story.

Authoress©

Lost in thought, the woman sat alone in the small Parisian café.

I’d stumbled upon Mariage Frères at the end of the rue du Bourg─Tibourg. The victim of a wrong turn, I’d been wandering the back streets of Paris and was overcome by fatigue and thirst.

Now with my swollen toes resting on the heels of my shoes, I had both a steaming cup of Marco Polo tea and a flakey almond croissant waiting for my attention on the small wrought iron table in front of me.

Intent only on getting the weight off my feet, I hadn’t noticed the woman when I’d entered. Left of the entrance, she was tucked in a corner where two windows met. Caressed by the filtered rays of the sun through the old water hued-glass—she was arresting. I found I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

Food forgotten, I stared. Her hair was slicked back from her face, the severity lessened by a long, light blue silk scarf. Wrapped several times around her head, she’d tied the silk in a fanciful bow at the crown. Vivid jewel tones of every primary color covered her smock-like dress in a riotous pattern that matched the simple beaded necklace and hoop earrings she wore. This unconventional get-up attracted my attention, but what sustained my interest was the look on her face.

Clearly the woman didn’t see the people on the street in front of her. Perhaps she was reliving a moment lost in the past. No? Maybe what she saw was a future, one she anticipated. I couldn’t tell.

Her facial features were a combination of clean cut and bold: big brown eyes were etched in coal, and a long straight nose with well defined nostrils gave her an air of authority and intellect. The well-shaped lips were brought to prominence with a heavy application of red lipstick. The only indication of her mood was the melancholy smile that tugged at the edges of her mouth. Or was it a look of satisfaction?

My tea cooled as I ventured into my own imaginations. Very bohemian in appearance, she could be a writer or a poet or perhaps an artist. No, not an artist, too neat, no paint-stained fingernails or dabs of titanium white smeared across her smock. No, she was definitely an intellectual, confident and creative. My mind raced with the image of abstract conversations that would take place over cigarettes and bottles of deep red Bordeaux in her glass-enclosed loft. 

Was she visiting the scene of her next literary work? Finding her way through a jungle of words that didn’t want to be organized into coherent thoughts, or plot lines? A journey started with the first sentence written. Was the story taking hold and giving her little choice but to follow it to a logical conclusion, which she didn’t want to be logical? Or had she, like me, written herself into a dead end?

With a sigh the woman pushed back her chair with the scraping of iron on tile. I watched as she emptied her cup and put a coin on the table. She passed me and our eyes met. Reflected in her eyes, I saw the same smile I’d stared at earlier, only it was on my face.

The look was one of bemusement, not melancholy. She smiled with real warmth and I grinned, in return. I was thrilled. Without a word spoken she’d inspired me. I’d been bemused and my imagination re-lit. What writer’s block? I thought as I tore a hunk off my croissant and stuffed it in my mouth. I was now in a hurry to finish my snack so I could start writing again.

My thoughts carried me to a scene that wanted to play out in my mind. I didn’t see the man who walked into the café, nor did I notice when he sat down and began to stare.

    

I also submitted a short story on a photo submitted by another club member. I will post both tomorrow. In the meantime, I've listed two of the short stories contained in my recent release, “For Want of a Horse – A short story collection,” as single stories in digital format only, on Amazon in their Kindle store. If you’re interested in a short read, check them out.

 

All of my titles are available on Amazon, both in paperback and digital. Thanks for reading and be sure to check back tomorrow and Saturday.

Take care,

Shelley Lee Riley, Author of the multiple award-winning Casual Lies - A Triple Crown Adventure.