This week's photo prompt is a sculpture by Hasan Novorozi. Ther are a variety of angles on different sites of this, but I like the one that Hasan has on his own FB page. It brings it alive. He makes some incredible things.
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He trotted along the ground, feeling the wind beneath his wings. He could see the others flying overhead, and hear them jeering at him.
‘You’ll never make it up here, Glint, you’re way too heavy. You’ll never be able to glide like we do!’
He watched them all swirl and loop, galloping in the air with such ease. His owner, and maker, had never imagined he’d be able to fly, even though he’d given Glint perfect working wings.
Glint was determined he would. It wasn’t fair to see all the real flying horses enjoy themselves up there, leaving him here alone on the ground, an outcast. He might be made of cogs and metal, but the electrical unit kept him very much alive.
The wind had started to pick up, gale force winds had been forecast and they might just give him the opportunity to get wind borne.
He cantered to the edge of the field he was in and easily jumped the low fence. He knew there was a cliff edge close by; his master had ridden him there many times.
He picked up speed and galloped head long at it – it was his only chance. As he approached he opened his wings out as far as he could and moved them up and down in anticipation.
He leapt, flapping as fast as he could. For a moment he hung there and he thought all was lost; he was going to take a nose dive and end up as a pile of scrap metal at the bottom of the gully. But a gust caught him and picked up his wings and he felt himself lift up, higher and higher.
The other horses had seen him go and came to join him. They glided alongside him, no longer jeering but encouraging.
‘Wow, Glint, you look great! Come and loop the loop with us!’
But when Glint banked round, his wing tip caught the underbelly of one of the other horses and ripped it wide open; blood and guts fell from the sky, and the horse along with it. There were screams and screeches as the others rushed after their friend, and Glint was left alone in the sky, mortified and guilt ridden.
When he landed back down on the pasture, he trotted over to the cliff edge and watched the other horses mourn their friend. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone; he’d only wanted to join in.
He tossed his head up in the air and let out a deafening neigh that echoed off the cavern walls, causing everyone at the bottom to look up at him. Then he backed up, and, in full gallop, went over the edge of the cliff. This time he didn’t open his wings or catch any of the wind currents, he let the weight of his metal body hurl him down into the ground at the bottom.
What would be the point of life of being left alone and shunned as a murderer?
Darla toyed with her controller. She was hopelessly behind on material. Jacobi had just taken her Regent’s Cardinal, skewering him violently with his Ambassador’s lance. The clergyman had folded onto his knees, his mitre dropping from his head, his body spasming as it bled out across the playing board.ReplyDelete
“What do you think,” she said, looking up at the sky. “I could use a little guidance, if anyone’s any idea what I should do.”
Unfortunately, her appeal went unanswered. Jacobi was the People’s champion; to offer her support would be suicide. It was Darla’s interference in an earlier round that had brought her down to the Players’ level herself. Her predicament was its own warning. Nobody would interfere on her behalf.
“Maybe the Riderless Horse?” She ramped up the power in its gyros. Its eyes began to spark, and it rose onto its hind legs, standing taller than any of the other pieces.
“What’re you going to do with it?” Jacobi seemed amused. He’d probably anticipated this reaction four moves ago. The only reason she was still playing was because she’d surprised him in the first game, forcing a win in what had seemed an impossible situation. The Audience still didn’t know how she’d managed it. There was talk of an irregularity, but no one could find any illegalities in any aspect of her game play. The Administrators had been called and would be scrutinising all her future matches. If any of them found any hint of her misplaying a move she would be demoted to piloting a Poor Man, an almost certain death for the player inside.
“I think I’ll play a Mulligan. Or maybe a Ronde de la Jeunesse. I’m not sure if there is a term for it. It’s a special move I’ve devised. Something I use to simplify my options whenever a position gets too complicated for me to see a way through.”
Jacobi yawned, feigning indifference. He had done this during the last game, the one that had turned unexpectedly. The Administrators would be watching but would miss this reoccurrence, not having been there to scrutinise the earlier game.
But nobody who had been in the arena the last time had seen anything untoward either.
The fascia of Darla's controller was unorthodox, as was the panel behind it, but it seemed impossible that anyone would miss seeing her open it and twist the knob beneath it backwards. And yet, maybe that wouldn’t matter. Maybe there was something else which would prevent anyone witnessing what she was doing reporting what they’d seen.
The Riderless Horse reined back, and its eyes dimmed. The Cardinal rolled back onto his feet and the Ambassador retreated. Jacobi laughed in an affected way, gobbets of the sandwich he’d been eating falling back into his mouth. The Administrators returned to their cloisters, never having been called – at least, not yet. All the other pieces on the board reversed their travels, Darla’s Regent reappearing, as well as most of the other playing tokens she had lost.
And then everything stopped. Even the dust motes in the lamplight. All was quiet, for a moment, until time began to re-establish its flow again.
“What do you think,” said Darla, dropping a pouch of cash beside the board. “I’m feeling lucky today: how do you feel about a wager?”
Very technical, and a little other worldly. Intriguing. Thanks for joining.Delete
Here's a clickable link so others can easily enjoy too: Pegasus
Here's mine, a steampunk Pegasus was always going to talk to me! My first piece of flash in nine months, and looking forward to writing more.ReplyDelete
This is SO good! What an ending! Glad it sparked something within. Look forward to more.Delete
And one from me. Starting to do this more regularly. Thanks, Miranda.ReplyDelete
Brutal! And interesting take on the prompt. Thanks for joining.Delete
Here's another link, cuz I can't get the one above to work, even though the one emailed to me from the blog does work.
Recycling: New Gods and Old Ways