Mission One-Post Vision #2 (contest)

[Jend-Ro Quill]

​

The goal of this little writing exercise: describe your character experiencing a vision inspired by this painting by Eddie Jones.

Are you going to make it clear, vibrant, unexpected, surreal, kinetic, tactile, poetic, emotional, messy? There's no right answer. I'd suggest 50-250 words as a general goal, but if you can bring it home in less or feel like writing more, by all means. I'd also suggest not looking at what others write until you've written yours. I'll have some sort of nice prize, suitable for the character you post with, for the description that works for me best. (The last round's winner, an acolyte, stumbled on a rare book of Sith poisons.)

A vision breaks over you. What do you see?​

 

[Colette]

And so I witnessed and I observed the passing of time. I listened to the deafening silence of the living and the cries of the forgotten. I took account of their sorrows and their regrets, their hopes and their dreams, and I felt remorse for the hopes which could be found here no longer.

What I saw instead was not death but something far worse: a nightmare of steel, a corrupt dominion of comfort. Where there had once been unbridled beauty there was now little more than a wasteland of something greater. I sifted through the sands of time and as I fell deeper and deeper into the depths of my own despair I found myself pushed further and further from reality until I had no option but to return empty-handed and alone. By then the years had turned into decades that turned into millenia, and my home would still remain the same: a joyous dream crushed by a moribund galaxy, a gem encrusted crown atop a crumbling pillar of sand where my people had forgotten their way.

I wept not for its passing but for myself and those who would never understand. I cried because only I remained who would understand this pain.

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Whatever strange and whimsical sapience had been prompting all these visions lately was stunned by the strength of Colette 's vision. Truth be told, it seemed that, at a subconscious level, every other visionary who might have resonated with the latest call had been stunned into insensitivity, downright intimidated. Subconsciously. Apart from the short interval since the last visionary emanation, this was the only explanation for this pure expression of quality over quantity.

And to that end, the multifarious intrinsic and extrinsic blessings that would have descended on all participants descended on Colette in the form of a brown paper bag on her doorstep. A doubled paper bag, to be sure, and a large one: it held an extragalactic five-kilogram bronzium statuette, one of the legendary Seven Husbands. It included a small handwritten note on the statuette's strengths and limitations.