Today is Day 2 of the new challenge. The prompt is “Slant of Light.” I actually like Emily Dickinson’s There’s a certain Slant of Light. It has something about it that appeals to me. But I’m more of a short story kind of chick. So I decided to write a small little snippet of a story with the picture above as my inspiration. Hope yall like it!!
Slant of Light:
A slant of light seemed to echo through the window at the top of the stair case. It was all that illuminated the only entrance to the forbidden third level. The light seemed to caress the sides of the wall, showing the age of the stones. The cracks and holes seem to be wise, like they had seen so much since the time when the men who put them there finished the building. I wanted to reach out to caress them, like the light did but I was stopped by the velvet rope that prohibited entry to the staircase. I did the only thing I could, I squatted down to gently touch the first step. It was cold to the touch like everything else in the castle. There was a crack in the step it was almost an inch deep and five inches long curving angularly to the left. I followed the crack with my finger tip. I could only imagine what created such a deep crack.
“An axe.” I jumped at the voice. I turned to see the owner of the castle. Mr. Blackwood. He was a tall man about 35 years old with dark hair and light greying at his temples. He held out his hand to help me up, I slowly stuck my hand into his hand and he lifted me up slowly.
“An axe? What do you mean?” I asked him.
“My grandfather use to tell me the story.” He said looking down at me, I stood a good seven inches shorter than him in my running shoes. I felt my face heat from his stare and turned my attention toward the crack once more.
“Its very prominent, I could see an axe making it. Did it happen during a battle?” I asked staring at the next step that was almost perfect other than a few aging cracks in the base.
“Yes, over one of the most important things in history.”
“And what is that?” I turned my head a bit to look in to his eyes.
“A woman.” The two words seemed like a plague to his lips. He didn’t spit them angrily but more that they dripped off his lips like a sickness. A sickness that seemed to break his own heart. I felt my lips drip in to a small frown as I could only imagine what had caused his feelings.