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Description
This is actually just one photo!!! In case you're wondering if it a composite of two photos: it is NOT!!!
it may look like two photos due to the crop I did to it. above we have a screen sheet with a simple shadow effect achieved with light against the bodies. then, since the floor is black and I cropped the side margins of the white sheet it looks like if I just glued 2 pics, but I didn't!
The darkroom of this is mainly the texture (from whose stock I cannot recall now), althoug I confess I used the blur a lil' bit too.
------
Edit *kahl wrote a story about it:
*clears throat* .....
"Everything was exactly as he'd found it. Each strand of hair. Every drop of blood. The slightly bent straight razor.
Tears in his eyes, the young man reached down, carefully extracting the razor from her cold, lily fingers. "You don't want that..." he whispered mournfully.
Admiring the mother of pearl handle, the slim youth ignored the tears obscuring his view into blurred blobs of pale pink and blue. The copper scent of the blood tinged his nostrils with the sharp metallic perfume of what had been lost. Smearing that red evidence on his shirt, he cleaned that pretty blade and folded it. Tucked in his pocket it was a weighted reminder of something beautiful.
The ones that came, they wouldn't see that beauty; wouldn't understand it. Madness colored all things ugly. So let him be the ugly one and let her stay so pretty, so lovely...and soft and pale. The tender flesh of her thighs was softer than silk. Never had he imagined it so exquisite as this...only warmer. Lips more delicate than the most easily bruised flower petals; the man only wished they responded to his kiss.
There was no fleeing when the first intruder screamed; nor when the violent arcs of crimson and azure light attacked the dreary walls. The young man sat beside the fallen angel, fingertips scarcely daring to touch that of which he had never been worthy. The others would drag him away, beat him, insult him, curse him...kill him. Gladly he would suffer it all, for her. So she would be forever beautiful and never so sad again.
From the caged car he could see shadows play upon those dreary walls. Figures of loved ones who perhaps never loved more deeply than these translucent casts of mother...or father. Never more present than an absence of her light would prove to show. Shifting. Dimming. One day....gone."
*steps back, hangs head*
...fin.
Thank you, hon
it may look like two photos due to the crop I did to it. above we have a screen sheet with a simple shadow effect achieved with light against the bodies. then, since the floor is black and I cropped the side margins of the white sheet it looks like if I just glued 2 pics, but I didn't!
The darkroom of this is mainly the texture (from whose stock I cannot recall now), althoug I confess I used the blur a lil' bit too.
------
Edit *kahl wrote a story about it:
*clears throat* .....
"Everything was exactly as he'd found it. Each strand of hair. Every drop of blood. The slightly bent straight razor.
Tears in his eyes, the young man reached down, carefully extracting the razor from her cold, lily fingers. "You don't want that..." he whispered mournfully.
Admiring the mother of pearl handle, the slim youth ignored the tears obscuring his view into blurred blobs of pale pink and blue. The copper scent of the blood tinged his nostrils with the sharp metallic perfume of what had been lost. Smearing that red evidence on his shirt, he cleaned that pretty blade and folded it. Tucked in his pocket it was a weighted reminder of something beautiful.
The ones that came, they wouldn't see that beauty; wouldn't understand it. Madness colored all things ugly. So let him be the ugly one and let her stay so pretty, so lovely...and soft and pale. The tender flesh of her thighs was softer than silk. Never had he imagined it so exquisite as this...only warmer. Lips more delicate than the most easily bruised flower petals; the man only wished they responded to his kiss.
There was no fleeing when the first intruder screamed; nor when the violent arcs of crimson and azure light attacked the dreary walls. The young man sat beside the fallen angel, fingertips scarcely daring to touch that of which he had never been worthy. The others would drag him away, beat him, insult him, curse him...kill him. Gladly he would suffer it all, for her. So she would be forever beautiful and never so sad again.
From the caged car he could see shadows play upon those dreary walls. Figures of loved ones who perhaps never loved more deeply than these translucent casts of mother...or father. Never more present than an absence of her light would prove to show. Shifting. Dimming. One day....gone."
*steps back, hangs head*
...fin.
Thank you, hon
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© 2008 - 2024 Helewidis
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Beautiful 