Reunited

Reunited

Tears streaked down her face, but they weren't sorrowful. She stared at the one they deemed a monster with a smile on her face, his expression returning a gentle one. Before she could choke out how much she missed him, he complimented on how beautiful she looked with tears on her face, which earned him a peck on the cheek.

They spent of the rest of the day under the glow of an autumn tree, telling each other about the events both had missed from each other's lives, and the events that they both wanted to do together: a missed birthday, the Wedding of Birds (they both loved that holiday). Everything, suspended in time under that autumn tree, was perfect.

She talked about how the world was still on a hunt for him, and with a carefree tone he responded that he didn't care. She suggested that they both run away, and he replied that he would ponder the idea, even though they both knew that he was lying. But it was nice to dream.

The wind calmly played with the autumn leaves, and as twilight began to fall, she rested her head on his lap. Closing her eyes, she hoped that the day would last forever. So did he.

The forest gleamed with silence, and not even the chirping of the birds could capture the moment between her and the one they called a monster. 

Faded Face

Faded Face

It was a dreary and light-hearted rainy night. The melancholy man stood below the awning of the newly refurbished Tom's Diner, breathing quietly as he awaited a taxi. The dim lighting advertised 50% off in sandwiches and chips.

He could faintly remember an artist who once sang about Tom's Diner. There were many "do's" in that song. Unsurprisingly, as he remembered, it was titled Tom's Diner. 

A car sped past by, almost-but-not-quite splashing his lower half. He breathed a deep sigh.

Perhaps, one day, he would become like the quiet rain too.

I Saw Him Once, in a Dream

 

I Saw Him Once, in a Dream

I always did sympathize with the bad guys in fairy tales when I was young. The troubles they experienced to destroy the hero, to make their own dreams come true. What I never did understand was why the villains did what they had to do. Did there always have to be an antagonist?

I doubt it. I'm sure the Evil Queen had to give the apple for some other reason than jealously.

My favorite antagonist is the Big Bad Wolf from Little Red Riding Hood. A simple wolf, waiting for prey, hoping to feed his family that was never mentioned in the story. They say that he never did devour the grandma or Little Red Riding Hood. He was simply after her desserts, since his pups wanted cake and cookies.

But they misunderstood his intentions...

I saw him once, in a dream. It was there that I was able to give him sweets of all kinds.

I hope to see him again. 

For She...Explores the Sunset Desert

For She...Explores the Sunset Desert

There are no people. There are no buildings. She is far from civilization...if there are any left. In the lonely desert she is alone, no miraculous oasis or fanciful mirages.

Her patterned jacket flutters in the desert breeze, her footsteps leaving shadowed marks in the sand. Endlessly, the desert expands toward the northern sun, which continues to shine half-heartedly. She follows, but expects no sort of reward, just the journey itself.

She breathes a deep sigh.

"I should be able to find the lost ruins soon." She could sense it. Strange disturbances in the air that shifted toward the end of the desert.

She questioned if anything truly was at the edge of the horizon. Perhaps.

"Perhaps."

She breathes a deep sigh.

The Man With Cat-Paw Gloves

The Man With Cat-Paw Gloves

He is a very strange man who can pull off a cat-like appearance very well on Tuesdays. On Thursday he is British, and longs to visit a clam buffet. He's very eccentric, and not that well-known except for the residents in his head.

Some say he's mental, others say he's colorful, but he doesn't really care because he does and doesn't exist, so the comments do and don't affect him. Sometimes when he fully exists, he gets sad, but he finds it all dandy since that sadness is alleviated later when he half-exists.

So far, only a few handle consider him wonderful. But that is because they too, are wonderful people.

The life of a 1/4 cat-man is quite difficult (his paws are gloves and the only thing cattish about him are his ears).

For She Hides in the Light

For She Hides in the Light

The mysterious woman surrounded by white aura did nothing to conceal the strange light emanating from her, and because of this, the denizens of Hell avoided her purity. They would hiss and shout strange curses in their demonic tongue, and some even had the gall to attack her outright with tendrils of dark shadows. Yet, all the demons could do nothing but watch in ambivalence as she simply ignored their assaults and strange insults.

"Through Cerberus Street and wait at Souls Plaza below the lantern tree." The man's voice, so softly spoken and devoid of emotion echoed in her mind. She repeated the simple phrase multiple times in her head, fearful that somehow, the demons of Hell would warp the phrase into something else. 

She wasn't afraid of them, of course. She was a neutral being simply borrowing Angel's Light for the time being. Neutral beings were frowned upon in both Heaven and Hell, since to the Angels and Demons, it was either good or evil.

She discarded her musings as she reached the open plaza cloaked in a heavy green fog, the lantern tree in the middle dimly illuminating the area with eerie orange lights. The buildings seemed suspiciously devoid of life, but as she squinted she could make faint shadows watching her from behind counter tops and demonic shoe stores. Could this really be counted as a plaza though? Instead of normal cobblestone, the entire surface fresh dirt with scattered gravestones.

A man half-naked with scars and something oozing out of his body approached the unnamed woman quietly waiting under the lantern tree, mumbling a continuous phrase of "no place like home, no place like home, no place like home..." he passed her harmlessly, but one of his eyes watched her for a second.

"The creatures of this place...certainly are odd." The woman mused. "He better be here soon..."

She would wait until her damned lover would appear, regardless.

Pretending to Sleep

Pretending to Sleep

She never sleeps, from what they are told. Never a nap in the afternoon nor forty wink of shut-eye for five minutes. Nobody knows how she does it, but there are rumors that the Sleep Fairy took away her ability to slumber. These days, she only pretends to sleep, so that her friends and family will not worry. What she really does, when everyone else in the house is unconscious, is play video games and study nonsensical things.

She has all the time in the world now, 24-hours, really.

Whenever she pretends to sleep, she always keeps the right eye open and the left eye closed. She blinks slowly as she pretends-sleep, secretly listening in on conversations about her and her eternal insomnia. But she never complains about the lack of sleep. In fact, she says she is ecstatic. She has infinite energy, can run around at night (she could never do that, she'd be asleep), and can late-cram study for a test the following days. 

Her all-nighters are amazing.  

There is one thing she regrets though. Something she misses terribly. She can never dream.

(But on the bright side, she can daydream, but it's not really the same.)

Near the Lake, Is a Muse.

Painting by AK

Near the Lake, Is a Muse

There is a muse near the unnamed lake. Nobody knows for certain, however. They just assume so because of the creative ideas they obtain just by being there. Regardless, most have named her Mimsy, even though her true name is something indistinguishable to mortals.

There is one particular mortal who she likes, always making sure that he receives his daily dose of muses. But only because that he depicts her the way she is, and not the way that others do, overly changing her structure, drawing her in a conflict between a dragon and an ogre.

Ironically, she is friends with a dragon and ogre. 

The Well-Dressed Girl Inside the Virtual World

The Well-Dressed Girl Inside the Virtual World

The anti-virus soldier sighed in relief. The virus war was finally over, with his life intact and capital city of Core unharmed. Everywhere he looked, the people reveled in fractal fireworks and virtual eateries, cheers and loud shouts heard all around.

But there was one girl who caught his eye, dressed in layers of black fabric tipped with greens at the ends, and a large purple ribbon hanging at her side. She held a nonchalant face, possibly disappointment. He was reminded of the ocean for some reason.

Behind an alley she disappeared, and his curiosity prompted him to follow. 

"Don't move." The sound of two swords made him pause his footsteps.

He gulped. How had he failed to notice it was a trap?

"Who are you?" She asked, silver sword at the nape of his neck. 

"I was...um..." he awkwardly paused, "enraptured by your beauty?"

Which was true. A silence followed, broken only by the revelries outside the alley. The next response was something he didn't expect: a giggle.

"Thanks. Let's meet again sometime." The two swords disappeared in bits of fragmented data.

"S-sure! My name is-"

But by the time he turned around, she was already gone.

The Simple Drawing Containing Many Memories

The Simple Drawing Containing Many Memories

I once visited Wonderland. It was an amazing place with white rabbits and strange hatters. I talked with the Queen of Hearts and the Red Queen, who weren't at all evil. The White Queen had a fragile complexion, and the kings were off in some grandiloquent journey. 

I've met many people down the rabbit hole.

But as all good journeys, it too ended. I am now 20. 

I think about my adventures there, and how I wish I could have stayed. But reality and fantasy tend to be at conflicts with one another, so in the end I had to leave. After a tearful goodbye and one last tea party, I asked the Cheshire Cat to draw the way I looked in Wonderland. It was spot on.

It was a simple drawing (since he had paws and all, but it was quite good). Nothing special except for who drew it and the meanings behind it that only I know. But it also contained a very important something.

All the memories I had there.

I can't access Wonderland anymore, for that is where only children and their reveries reside. At heart, I still am a child, but I know that to go back would hinder my growing up process.

...

I have to wonder if Alice looked like Alice in Wonderland, or if she was some sort of marmoreal version of herself.

I hope the residents are all well. I think of them daily.

The Winter Fairy Suspiciously Living in the Dark Woods

Painting by AK

The Winter Fairy Suspiciously Living in the Dark Woods

The woods behind Granny Smith's home was unusually dark to be called Autumn Leaf Woods ( the trees were dead and lacked life), but people report that nothing really "dark" happens in the woods. They compare as a little brother to the Enchanted Forest behind Grandfather Fuji's home.

But unlike the Enchanted Forest, with its beautiful crisp leaves and littered autumn leaf paths, the Dark Woods was inundated with magical creatures. But they were common magical creatures, so there were no dragons or Minotaurs.

There was, however, a suspicious Winter Fairy that lived in a dead oak tree in the center of the woods. Apparently, she appointed herself the name Jane, and that her being there was something only she could know. But I heard rumors of love, and that she left her snow-capped mountains for a lonely Spring Fairy named Faolan (he appointed himself that name too).

They had such strange names that didn't fit their complexions.

I hope they find each other one day.

I Can Hold Your Flowers For You!

Painting by AK

I Can Hold Your Flowers For You!

There is a strange girl in the park known as the Flower Girl (nobody knows her real name). Each day she holds a different flower, and the people remark that lost flowers are her specialty: from a rose gone missing to a sunflower gone rogue. I never understood it myself, but it was nice to know that there was a flower heroine among us. 

People say that she can "hold" your flowers for you, but I never really understood it myself until I came to the park one day with a Gardenia in hand. She stared at me from a distance, a rose held in her right hand, and I uncomfortably made my way to her. 

"I see you have a Gardenia. Did you know in the language of flowers, it means 'I love you in secret'?"

I respond that I didn't, before she smiled once more. As though I were controlled, I automatically handed her the flower, and a breeze picked up. Surrounded by various petals that circled us, coming from who-knows-where, there was something oddly surreal about it.

And before I could blink, she was already gone.

Your flower will appear when the right time comes...

Data

Data

The function I have been programmed to execute will eventuate as a result of the data collected for the amelioration of the collective.

No miscalculation is authorized during this time period. I am a perfect being.

Begin data extraction out of Subject 9. 1%. 50%. Subject appears to be unstable. 60%. Losing subject to heart failure. Bring heart-stabilizing bacterium to 11%. Subject is stable. 80%. Subject is silent.

Submitting? Perhaps.

100%.

No life in eyes. There is movement, however.

The subject now serves the collective.

I am a perfect being.

It Burns!

Picture by Maxwell

It Burns! 

"Why." 

Nearby the carnival played Walking on Sunshine by Katrina & The Waves. Colorfully dressed people walked to and fro from stall to stall, buying various season collectibles he considered tacky. It was as if everyone were in a music video advertising the season he despised: the hot, blistering season of summer. He could already imagine the camera obnoxiously zooming on yellow dresses and vanilla ice cream cones.

"At least I have you," he murmured to the tree he sat under, hoping to drive anyone sane away from his irritated mood (he did this by yelling to the tree whenever someone attempted to approach him).

But really, it was futile as the fire cookie above seemed content on forcing him to walk on its sunshine. Not even the leaves provided comfort, as the sun's rays pierced through its plant-like barrier. Or perhaps they opened way intentionally?

I feel the love, I feel the love...

Even the song attempted to coerce him into joining, lyrics sung with jubilant glee!

He was suddenly hit by a wayward water balloon.

"Sorry mister!" 

"Joy."

He sighed. He didn't really mind, he supposed. The happy smiles that everyone exhibited (minus the crying child near the toy stall) slowly gave way to a small smile forming on his face.

But, of course, he still enjoyed winter more.

The Little Creature Who Frowned a Lot

The Little Creature Who Frowned a Lot

I saw an adorable thing when I walked home from school today. It sat next to a cherry tree that appeared to have popped out of nowhere. Strangely enough, the park was a maple tree type of park.

It had small ears that reminded me of my own puppy's, stubby feet and a small tail, and empty eyes that weren't scary at all. I wished that it had smiled though. I wanted to hug it, but there was a bunch of picnickers that sat next to it, but I don't think anyone acknowledge its being. I watched it from a distance, picnickers eating picnic food.

Of course, when they saw me staring and sent an intimidating person after me (perhaps to ask why I was eyeing their cake, which was next to the thing), I flew out of there.

I vowed to try again the next day, but I said that at 2 in the morning along with muses of changing my life. But I wouldn't be deterred.

After school, the thing wasn't there anymore. So I began searching everywhere for it could possibly be: behind bushes, in the treetops, hiding in the garden, perhaps? I checked all around the cherry tree, but it wasn't there either.

To my surprise, it was well camouflaged in a collage of maple trees. This time, however, it was smiling at my appearance.

"Thank you for looking for me. I was quite lonely. Nobody ever noticed me before."

I asked it who it was. It said it was a he, and his name was George. Anything else after that was a secret, but that was okay.

We talked about why nobody really noticed him. He said he was a ghost, but he later said he was joking. Then we talked about his stubs, to which he was offended when I called them stubs. (Though he later agreed that there was no better name for them, so we called them stubs anyways). We continued talking until it grew dark and the white moon cast its light on the park.

"If you keep looking for me in the oddest of places, you'll find me eventually."

I left the park, mentally preparing myself for another thingy-treasure-hunt.

But now that I thought about it...what was he?

The Strange Bird From Down the Lane

Painting by AK.

The Strange Bird From Down the Lane

There are rumors of a strange bird inside the strange park at the pedestrian neighborhood. Well, they say it's a bird, a crow to be precise, with black ruffled feathers and a strange type of look in its eyes. But some people say it's a girl. 

The path to the park isn't normal either. I remember someone saying that you have to walk down a certain lane while closing your eyes, but I haven't tested it yet. The last time someone tried to enter the park through the entrance, however, they came back bloodied and bruised.

Yet nobody saw a thing.

Nobody is allowed to go there, not even the mayor. They say that visiting the quiet place makes one contemplate about the complexities of life, and in our neighborhood, such a foreign thing isn't allowed. We're only suppose to follow the rules and lead a perfect life.

It was one day that I decided to see if the rumors were true themselves. I walked down the lane closing my eyes, and to my surprise there really was a girl amongst the birds.

She told me that I was the one of the few who actually followed the rule of entering the park. She apologized for the boy that came back bloodied and bruised, since the crows didn't like people entering nonchalantly. We began conversing.

The life of a crow is strange, she said. People take their caws for omens and misfortunes or for luck and serendipities. But she didn't mind. She said it was grand to see the world in the sky. She tends to pity those who can't fly.

I asked her about her existence.

She told me she was simply was.

After a nice chat about birds and humans, I left the park with a promise of reunion. When I turned around, however, the park wasn't there anymore.

That Type of Look That Can Only Mean an Immaculate Determination

That Type of Look That Can Only Mean an Immaculate Determination

She stared at the man in front of her, a type of stare that only she could muster. There was something inside him that boiled with indignation with the look she gave, as though all parts of his existence had been overshadowed by it.

He hated it.

Lunging at her face in an attempt to remove her facial expression, she sidestepped with a carefree smile as the man face-planted onto the ground.

"Why?!" He glared at her as she gave an unworried laugh.

"Well, it's kind of inevitable, don't you think?" 

Standing up, he watched her once more, all forms of emotions focused on the gaze on her eyes. An immaculate determination, he mused. Something completely foreign to him. 

Infinity

Portrait by AK.

Infinity

She has this strange stare that most people cannot discern. 

Her portrait lies inside an art gallery, hidden away in a seemingly endless white hall. She looks past the few people that manage to find her, into something that they consider the painting at the end of the hallway; a well-dressed man who looks purloined. 

What do you think she's looking at? ask many patrons contemplating her pale facial features. They give many answers: a lost lover, a death scene, perhaps the painted man. But she ignores them, continuing to stare.

"I think she's seen infinity," says a little boy who looks in the exact same direction as her.

She smiled, though nobody saw. It was nice to know there were others like her.

Welcome to Bijou Whispers

"Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."

-Oscar Wilde, The Critic as Artist

Let's use our imaginations to tackle the dark world.

Bijou Whispers, kinda like Erin Morgenstern's Flax-Goldens, but a simulacrum.

I created this blog, inspired by Erin Morgernstern's Flax-Goldens and a half-finished painting from an awe-inspiring friend of mine. I've been wanting to do something like this for a while, but I didn't just want to grab a random picture from Google. I wanted the pictures to have a special meaning, so most of the stories will include drawings from people who I know, and the occasional novice/amateur picture from me.

Erin Morgernstern, if by some chance you're reading this, please don't sue me for lack of creativity among other things. I say lack of creativity because as you can see, I copied this first post based on your own first flax-golden introduction post. Also, the money I have is worth negative five dollars. 

So, I'm Maxwell. Well, I would like to be called Maxwell. I will be the writer of the pictures I see and upload, and I haven't a clue how long each picture's story will last. Depending on each picture, I'll guesstimate the proper amount of lines and paragraphs. Occasionally, I'll upload a picture like the one above that is not owned by me nor my friends. 

After all, all kinds of pictures have stories to tell. Even if one has to make them on the spot.

P.S: Most of the paintings don't have titles, so I'll just provide one that I think suits it best. I'll credit the artist that made it, but only if they want to be credited.