We didn’t get quite the entries as the last sexy leather clad babe in the SFAP, but what we did receive is fantastic! As usual, the Snarky Readers wrote to impress and they succeeded.
A lot of readers have participated in this monthly creative spark and as far as I’m concerned, you all rock. I’d like to say thanks. I really love reading what pieces are inspired from these images.
For info on what this is, click here. And for the next picture with a writing deadline of April 8th, I give you this image. I’ve been unable to find the artist, but wow, eh? (Click on the image for a larger version.)
If you really want to crawl into a mood, visit www.edgen.com , listen to Valoo OST-loud- minimize then click on this image to bring it up so it’s the only thing on your screen.(Choose The Artist for something that feels a little more lovely and magical… 🙂 )
Here is the image (photographer is Sharon Dodd–sorry, she doesn’t have a website yet.) from the last SFAP with the Snarky Reader entries following.
Betty from Dishin’ The Dirt wrote:
The brochure read, “Awaken Your Spiritual Self.”
$10,000 and a week later, John was already beginning to feel enlightened and second thoughts were circling like harbingers of doom about his head. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
Fifteen minutes ago a white robed man, whose primary facial feature was a long somewhat yellowed beard, had brought him out to this desolate spot in the desert. His ancient psychedelically painted van had reeked of the combined incense of marijuana and tobacco.
“You stand before the bridge to enlightenment,” the aging hippy had proclaimed with pontifical solemnity and pointed his bony finger towards the open desert across an anomalous bridge to nowhere that had been constructed out in the middle of this barren wasteland. “Your destiny and great wisdom await you.”
John gazed into the distance trying to make sense of the whole bizarre experience. An elaborate bridge, extending only a few yards, had been constructed with no apparent purpose whatsoever, except possibly to provide shade to the snakes, scorpions and lizards that called the desert home. Behind him John heard the door to the van close.
“I’ll pick you up in this spot after forty days and forty nights.”
“What!” John spun and made a running dive for the van.
“Good Luck, Pilgrim,” were the last words he heard before the van spun away across the sand.
“Well, hell. There goes my ten thousand dollars AND my only ride back to civilization,” he said to no one in particular, except possibly the lizard basking on the bridge to take full advantage of the sun’s heat. He had no one to blame but himself. Signing on for this had been an impulsive decision made after one too many Budweisers and a late night ball game. It was a pretty good scam, if you think about it. Take people’s money then leave your only witness in the desert to die.
Where to go from here? They’d driven in so many circles getting out here that he had absolutely no idea where he was. Until later, when the sun began to drop from the midday sky, he wouldn’t even have a clue as to which direction was north and south.
John squinted his eyes against the sun and began to survey the area around him. What was he looking for? Bodies? Ha. A long while later, when nothing that even remotely resembled a plan had formed in his mind; he turned and did the illogical yet obvious thing. He began to cross the ridiculous bridge.
He’d paid $10,000 for the experience after all.
Jen from jennifernipps.com wrote:
Brandon stopped in the middle of the bridge and looked back where he had come from.
Funny how a no-account kid from the wrong side of the tracks could make it to the right side. It hadn’t been easy, though. And it had damn near cost him everything to do it.
He continued across the bridge. He would never go back. Even as he thought it, he new it for a lie. He would go back. But only if Katrina asked him.