Visual Inspiration—Photo Prompt #23

Let this image engage your muse. Write a paragraph, a short story, a poem, a memory, a journal entry…or whatever you feel inspired to create. And share your creations in the comments if you’d like!

6 Responses to “Visual Inspiration—Photo Prompt #23”

  1. 1 Denise Lumiere February 6, 2011 at 9:59 pm

    Dancing red ones in the forest with arms all in unison crying out to the forest to please take them in… Please…. away from the noise and horns and leaf blowers to fall into the leaves…once again… Roll around awhile, sniffle in the dark and jump up with glee because all of your red friends are dancing in unison with you and you didn’t see it before. You may have thought you were alone in driving down the freeway or in your apartment, but all you needed to do is transfuse yourself into the forest, in the dark, with your red friends, hands in the air, dancing with glee!!!! I FEEL BETTER ALREADY!

    • 2 stranglingmymuse February 7, 2011 at 11:48 pm

      Nice, Denise — I love this stream-of-consciousness piece you’ve written! Thanks for stopping by and sharing your work here!


  2. 3 herby February 7, 2011 at 3:17 am


    ‘Do not be late! The performance is tomorrow and I want everything to be perfect. My career’s riding on it and that means that yours are too!’ the little balding man squawked instructions to the troop in his nasally high pitched voice.

    The troupe stood as still as statues.

    ‘Well, get a wriggle on!’ the balding man demanded.

    Still the troupe stood there.

    The balding man marched around the ranks of dancers, pushing them to force them to move on. He swore and ranted; the sound of his voice nauseating passers-by.

    The dancers didn’t move. Their red forms stayed as still as the day they had been formed by the sculptor. Their metallic bodies didn’t sway in the breeze or move on the bald man’s demand. They hadn’t been practicing any pirouettes or jigs; they hadn’t moved since the town planners had installed them many years earlier.

    But the little bald man didn’t know this. In his mind, they were his troupe. They were the most graceful and rhythmic dancers the world had ever seen. And their success was a direct result of his own personal choreography and coaching.

    Every day, the balding man would call directions to his troupe. His nasally voice simultaneously annoying and amusing passers-by. He became a feature of the city’s culture; part of the art installation that was the red metal dancing statues. When locals walked by, they would watch to see whether the bald dance instructor was there that day.

    Some days the bald man’s behaviour was more erratic than others. He would scream and shout at children who dared to play between the legs of his dance troupe. He would chase them away as if protecting precious treasures. On other days he’d whip his dancers’ arms with the back of his walking stick, directing the dancers to hold their arms in stronger poses.

    No two days were ever the same. If you watched the bald man every day for a year, you would see more than three hundred different dances. Not the dances the bald man saw his red troupe perform, but the dances of the bald man directing his dance troupe of red metal statues.

  3. 4 stranglingmymuse February 7, 2011 at 11:52 pm

    I really love how you created a character who’s not in the photo to be the protagonist of your piece. And such an interesting character he is! Thanks, as always, for sharing your creativity here, herby!


  4. 5 mary February 8, 2011 at 11:15 am

    Red all over, the passion of nature burns
    through a culture until they are
    hot with it, on fire
    and the trees dance
    and the stones
    all dance
    and watch the worship,
    a still life
    all pointing up.

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