AUTHOR NOTE: AJ at The Mind of Nox has started a new writing prompt:
We are going to start off every week with a Weekly Writing Prompt, that ya’ll can participate in. And AJ will write up something for me on the fly for a Saturday posting. If we get anyone sharing their own stories, I will try to get a post in where I have read and oohed and ahhed over them here. Really Lax – The Mind of Nox
Here is the link to the starting prompt: Rory Cubes #1 – The Mind of Nox and here is my take on it! Enjoy!
Comedia had finished the drawing challenge and was waiting for Tragedy to finish his last picture. While she waited, she watched his expression. It intrigued her. For someone named Tragedy, he had a lot of nuanced microexpressions. A lot of eyebrow movement that wasn’t a frown or anything nameable.
She found reason for joy in every slight forehead crease, every movement of his lips, every muscle twitch.
He raised his head. “I wish you wouldn’t stare at me like that when I’m drawing. It distracts me.”
“Sorry!” she said cheerfully. “Are you done with your drawings yet?”
He lowered his head. “No. Need to finish some shading.”
Comedia watched Tragedy for a few minutes. A playful smile crossed her face. She looked at the list of items they were supposed to draw for the challenge: A comedy/tragedy mask set. A daisy. A shooting star. An arrow.
Her smile grew.
She flipped several pages ahead in her sketch book and settled in to draw the items again. Only this time she included Tragedy in the sketches.
His face was the Comedy/Tragedy mask set.
He held a daisy in his hands with a bewildered expression on his face. He had no idea what to do with the daisy.
She caught him in mid-jump trying to catch the shooting star with a baseball mitt.
The arrow, however, threw her off. She had several ideas as to what to do with it, but they weren’t very compelling ideas. Definitely not worth the drawing. She tapped her art pencil against the paper.
“Done.” Tragedy said.
She flipped back to her real drawings, but turned the sketchbook upside down. “Let me see yours first.”
“Um. Okay. I don’t know if they’re really all that good, but…” He shrugs and moves his sketchbook to her.
Comedia was floored.
Tragedy had drawn her as both Comedy and Tragedy.
As Comedy, she wore a jester’s highly detailed costume. She hid her laughter behind her black gloved hands. Her eyes were delighted arches of mirth.
As Tragedy, she wore a widow’s full length costume. Her white gloved hands hung limp at her sides. Her shoulders arched inward. She looked straight at the viewer with heartbroken eyes.
Comedia stared long and hard at that expression. How could he have captured that look so well? When had he seen me look that lost and devastated?
She flipped to the next page.
The daisy was a whole field of daisies. She sat among them with a daisy crown in her long hair. Her dress was an extravagant Medieval dress with a lot of fine line detailing. Her expression was a calm happiness. She looked like a queen at her leisure, waiting for her servants to bring her afternoon tea.
She flipped to the next page.
The shooting star….She ran across a field of rolled hay bales. Her gown was a loose-fitted black dress with white stars all over it. Her arms and feet were bare. Her hair streamed behind in long lines. A delighted smile lit her face. She wasn’t running in fear. She was running with joy and for the joy of it.
The last drawing…
This time, he had included himself in the drawing. He was tied to a tree. His hands somewhere behind the tree. He looked straight ahead at her with an expression that was both brave and afraid. She stood a couple of feet before him dressed in a fine white Grecian gown. She held a discharged bow in her hands. The arrow was just a couple of inches away from hitting his heart.
Comedia raised her head, unsure and not quite understanding. She wasn’t even sure what to ask. She closed the book and moved it back to him.
“Can I see yours?” he asked.
She shook her head. “You win this round. Mines are just silly. Yours are gorgeous. I’ll do better in the next round.”
His serious expression turned even more serious. “There’s a reason why mines were so good.” He looked at her and there was something in his eyes.
Something she had never noticed before.
A light. A decidedly warm light.
And she didn’t know how to feel about it.
But she thought about her own drawings. They had been of just him.
Comedia looked at Tragedy. She wondered if he saw that warm light in her eyes too.