#slanted light

[sadchimpson]

I have a new interview up at The Fourth River, conducted by Abbey Hood, who was great.

An excerpt: "Much of the time, I begin with pretty dark premises—a guy who’s been run over by his own car, a suicidal twelve-year-old girl—and as I attempt to make these things meaningful by way of sentences, by way of something like narrative, I think what I unconsciously do is throw a little light on that darkness. It’s probably slanted light, at best..."

[giidas]

Slanted Light

By the end of the first week, Q was ordered to call Mallory to report any progress on Bond’s “recovery.” Tanner loomed in the background, taking notes.

“How is he?” Mallory asked by way of introduction.

“Alive.” Q said, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“Yes well let’s try dreaming big here, shall we?” Mallory said. “Have you talked to him at all?”

“He doesn’t seem to want to talk.” Q said a bit lamely.

ahhhhhhhhhhh

I now apparently have an 00Q rec tag, so here you go

[behindtheillusionist-blog]

Slanted Light || Open

The applause of the small audience was slow and quiet as the illusionist curtsied in the center of the tent. They had almost forgotten how to put their hands together, so awed by the sight before their widened eyes. Suddenly, the air in the tent was cooler. It was as if a cold breeze was running over the skin of all the inhabitants of the cloth dome, though none could feel the breeze or discern the origin of the temperature change. A single empty seat remained in the circle of chairs, and as if by command, two of the doves that had been flying aimlessly around the tent landed and perches on its back. Picking up her black shawl from where it had earlier been discarded, Celia tossed it over the doves carelessly, as if to shelter them from the cold. Immediately, the temperature in the tent returned to normal. Hearing the murmured wonderings of her audience, Celia only smiled slightly, taking the shawl back and wrapping it over her shoulders.

One audience member in particular caught her eyes just as she was about to do her traditional disappearance at the end of her performance. A little girl, probably no older than five, sat in her mother’s lap, clearly fighting the urge to sleep at this late hour as she stared up at the illusionist with rapt attention. Reaching behind her back, Celia brought her hand forward as she approached the girl, handing her a single red rose that had not been there just second before. It was a welcome change to see someone so incredibly young in her audience, the innocent joy that much stronger by lack of life experience. The child smiled in glee, and Celia simply nodded and placed her top hat on her head, the action causing the whole tent to be bathed in black as she vanished.

The night was young, at least by her standards. The clock was only striking two as Celia, happy to disappear amongst the crowd for the remainder of the night, transformed her black and white gown to a simpler dress of lavender and indigo, her shawl also shifting to the deep blue. No longer in circus attire, the odds were slim that she’d be recognized amongst the patrons tonight. She was happy to avoid encounters with admirers of her work tonight. Celia had barely rested since the circus had arrived in Romania a few days before, opting instead to spend her days roaming the city of Transylvania. The whole location had an aura of mystery about it, which was of course perfect for Le Cirque des Rêves and its own mysteries, and which had drawn Celia to each nook and cranny of the city that she could find time to explore. This would not be exhausting for a proper lady whose nights were spent resting and dreaming of the mysteries she could sense but not touch, however Celia did not fall into that category. Her nights were sleepless, as they had been and would remain for some time. The dreams she experienced were not her own and did not exist behind her closed eyelids. Rather, she wove the dreams together for others to see. Created the fantastical and brought it down to the known world, disguised as mere illusions done by a beautiful and mysterious girl surrounded by black and white.

She could of course go rest now that her nightly shows were completed, but she would never choose not to spend a night wandering the circus on her own, as immersed in and enchanted by it as any of the patrons. She simply didn’t desire to spend her night fielding questions about her “tricks” as so many of the patrons referred to them. She’d rather forget about her own tent for a little while, instead spending the night in others. She slipped into the crowd of visitors from where she had been standing between tents, eyes surveying the familiar landscape of black and white stripes, deciding which would be her first hideaway for the night. It took her a few minutes to decide, but she realized she hadn’t entered The Labyrinth since arriving in Romania, and she made her way across the courtyard towards the tent. Just as her hand was reaching to part the black and white fabric and enter the tent she felt the air around her shift, indicating someone stepping up behind her. Biting her lip to avoid sighing, she turned around slowly and prepared herself to artfully evade questions about her ability to make the seemingly impossible possible. It was rare that she was recognized when dressed in color, but it happened now and again when Celia came in contact with the more devoted fans of the circus. The small, mysterious smile that was often present on her face became a bit more genuine when she realized it wasn’t anyone who was overly inquisitive about the illusionist’s methods. “Oh, good evening,” she greeted quietly.