August 18, 2015 1:32pm Published by Jules Smith in The Art Philosopher 28 Comments


Dee has asked to me to write another short story using the above photo prompt.

It was the smell of lavender that woke her. The long, meadow grass spiked up beside her as she lay still in the field. She couldn’t remember lying down as she’d cut across the dumbles to get to her friends house faster, but that didn’t seem to matter now. The recent uneasiness had retired and it was somewhat liberating. The sun was brighter and lower than when she’d started out.
Standing up was effortless and she felt lighter somehow. She walked slowly forwards towards the direction of the sun, her tread barely making any dents in the grass. The birdsong was beautiful and seemed to mix with other euphoric sounds that she had never noticed before. As she walked forward and listened, voices in the distance became apparent. Soft whispers beckoning. The sound of love. The sunlight expanded across the sky with every step taken as though ready to blanket her, compelling her to reach it before it disappeared. She seemed to float towards it like a weightless, helium balloon released to the sky. Bewitching purity lay ahead but something…something repulsive and icky made her want to look back. Before she could, she heard the voices and song disentangle; a voice she recognised urged her to keep moving forward.

“Grandma?” she thought, “is that you?”

She knew that it was even though that would be impossible. That would also explain the smell: the lavender cookies she used to make on a Sunday afternoon.

Reality dissipated in her wake as she connected with the callings. She wasn’t walking anymore but somehow gliding; becoming feathery and fragile like Gaussian in the wind until the light seared through her fibres and released her.


She was perfect. Better than the other hard faced whores that went before her. This one was angelic and had given him the rush that he’d been yearning for. That was evident by the wet, sticky seed that had exploded in his pants as she’d faded away. He didn’t know how long he’d knelt beside her body because the high had engulfed him. Now he felt sated with a beautiful sense of calm as he fanned her golden hair out in-between the grass. Maybe number seven wasn’t such a bad number after all. Ask anyone to choose a number between one and ten and they’d usually always pick seven. People were fucking stupid. But, he’d remember her.

He brought her soft, pale hands together and stroked the smooth skin. Extinguished before she became sullied. She even smelt new.
He placed his calling card between her hands so they’d know it was him. Seven, perfectly cut, identical sprigs of lavender to cleanse and soothe her. To keep her sleeping.


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Your words never cease to intrigue and inspire!

Thank you, Anthony my fellow artist, very kind of you. 🙂 x

Ah! Beautiful melancholy!

Thank you, Aditi 🙂

The song cited is the theme song of the series, “True Detective” on HBO. Have you seen it?

Good story, sad content. Good visuals from a world often devoid of hope.

Oh but of course (Nic Pizzolatto) I was upset when I heard that the second season wasn’t going to have the same characters as I was completely awestruck with the character ‘Rust’ played by Matthew McConaughey. However, I fell back in love with Colin Farrell instead. One of I favourite series.

Thank you, Larry 🙂

Season1 and 2 were based on a true stories. They don’t paint it that way in the advertising, but they were. Naturally, the screenwriters embelished, but for what it’s worth, they have their genesis in fact.

I didn’t know that but it doesn’t surprise me. They’re very well written and acted, hats off to them for that as they always keep me engaged which is difficult to do!

I didn’t expect to be thinking about serial killers after getting to the end of this one. I hope their victims really do experience something like this.

I love it when that happens. Yes, Mr. Gorilla Bananas, I hope that too. 🙂

evocative, mah dahlin, tied to an ineffable sorrow. i was never into Cohen until Cobain was into Cohen. i went to the Elysian Fields once (i was probably sleepwalking but) and i met Homer there. he gave me a pink donut. i thought i’d see Matt Damon there, too, but no. Ben Affleck was there, though, with Jennifer Garner and the nanny *)

Thank you, my sweet P 🙂 I love that track, it’s very powerful.
I hope you gave your pink doughnut to the nanny…*)

Well done my dear. I did not see where this story was going! Creepy but so sweet that her grandmother was there to meet her with the lavender cookies. It isn’t often that I get taken by surprise as much as I did with this piece. Thanks for that! xx

Thank you, Tracy. Well I’m happy that I surprised you, I’m full of them, you know 😉 xx

This is weirdly unsettling. Is that what you intended? Why do you want to upset me so? I had to Google dumbles . Why wasn’t I born over there? You guys use such pretty words.

I’m making you “feel’ and that’s good for you even if you don’t like the essence of it 🙂 You’re welcome.

I live across the road from the Dumbles and now I daren’t walk in it!

Brutal. (I was going to say evocative as well, but someone else said that.) I’m a sucker for a good, unexpected twist.

Brutal works for me, Crystalicious 🙂 Life is a series of twists.

Agreed. Keep them coming!

I will! 🙂

I love how your mind works, Miss Jules. I like light and hope just fine, but consider it so clear-cut, so uncomplicated to feel and know, if not understand. It’s the dark side that intrigues and dares exploring, that gives away as much as it holds back, like a woman who knows how to sustain her mystique. Here, you’ve given us a clever balance, a deep, dark blot on the sun that leaves me the kind of pensive that will do the most good.

Well I’m glad someone does, Miss A! Thank you and I concur with your views. Good is good and all so perfect it is quite simple. But the darkness is an abyss.
Thank you, it’s not very often I achieve balance in anything and to leave you thinking on is a joy 🙂

Oh, very nice.

I started reading this and thought I was going to enjoy a lovely bedtime story before I hit the sack for the night.

Then look at what you did.

I’m gonna have fucking nightmares now!

Haha! Just keeping you on your toes, Masher. ;P

That’s some scary shit, Jules. I didn’t see that one coming, no pun intended.

Haha! I like to keep you on your pretty toes, Blue 😉

i’d read that novel! i love stories like this.

Thank you, Jaya 🙂

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