Free Write The Candle

 

A rainy Tuesday at Mille et Une as Rick and I prepared for our Free Write. In Switzerland, Julia received the prompt, a candle of a woman's face. As usual we took ten minutes to write non stop based on our response to the prompt.

Rick's Free Write Candle

She was a beauty. A face of perfect symmetry. The smoothest complexion. And that hair! Curls upon curls, layered atop her head, and tied in a bow under her chin.

But who was she? Archaeologists had discovered her mask in the ruins of a small Roman village in south central France, not far from Carcassonne.

Was she royalty ? A mistress to a general in Caesar’      army ? Or simply a village girl to whom the sculptor had taken a fancy ?

As the diggers explored deeper, they found bowls and combs and knives. The accouterments of a hairdresser perhaps ? Or mere household items ?

They decided to call her ‘Tress,’ a shortened and modified version of Theresa. ‘Tress of the Corbières,’ one English digger wagged.

Did Tress have any descendants still living in the village ? Or had her line died out in the various plagues and wars that had ravaged the region ?

Tress is now proudly displayed in the tiny museum in centreville. You can take her home to live with you – as a candle, a postcard, or a magnet.

D-L's Free Write The Waxed Mask

Thomas watched the cleanup of champagne glasses after the vernisage. He preferred the French term for an opening just as he named his gallery Les Bougies instead of the Candles.

Everyone told him a gallery of just candles would never work, even on Boston's arty Newbury Street.

They were wrong. The number of sold red dots proved him right.

He wondered if any of the buyers of his one-of-a-kind candles would burn them after paying four figures.

His buildings, the Sydney Opera House, the White House and Buckingham Palace with the royal family waving on the balcony, all sold quickly.

His panoramas sold even better. His first sale had been the boat on a sea with dolphin candles around it.

Stephanie's mask hasn't sold because he already had placed a red dot making it his forever.

How he had to fight with her to do it. She didn't want to be immortalized in wax. She'd called him crazy,

The skin-colored face with it perfect features rested in its place of honor in the center of the gallery: Closed eyes, a perfect nose, a mouth made for kissing.

 Curls surrounded Stephanie's candle face. His name for this candle, Death Mask, would stay his secret. 

Julia's Free Write

She was gorgeous, albeit very pale.

A patrician nose, curly hair, lips that were just a tad too small and puckered. She wasn’t frowning, nor smiling; her eyes were closed.  Did she not wish to see, or was she internalizing what she had seen?

No indication of her origins, neither by dress nor skin, although her hairdo wasn’t currently popular.

Sitting in a corner with a telephone by her side, I wonder who has called her or whom she has called.

Does she have a family, children, a job, or not?

And so my mind wanders.

But wait, questions all answered: “she” isn’t a person at all but a very life-like female head made in wax: yes, you read that correctly, “she” is a candle; one with a wick that has never been lit

Julia has written and taken photos all her life and loves syncing up with friends.  Her blog can be found: https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/ 

Rick is an aviation journalist and publisher of www.aviationvoices. com

 

D-L has had 17 fiction and non fiction books published. Check out her website at: https://dlnelsonwriter.com