The Alley by Chipka
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No AI - This artwork was created entirely by hand or with traditional digital tools.
Description
There were noises in the alley: small scrabbling things with more legs than any rat. Things screeched and twittered overhead—harpies, probably, snapping small insects into their complex and prehensile jaws. Nowhere on earth had there ever been such creatures, and now, whole parsecs away from the ancestral planet, local creatures (as well as gene-tweaked imports) bore ancient and mythic names.
Harpies took wing in the night as insectivores might. They cooed and chortled among themselves in the struts and girders of overhead rail lines. Their dung and nest offal littered the ground, drawing mice and mites alike. The harpie diet ranged from insects caught on the wing to larger, hungry things drawn to the scent of their scat. They were cute in their way: municipal mascots emblazoned on city flags, and so the city was smilingly indifferent to their nest-mess. West—far from the lake, and beyond the northern loop of the river—immigrants from Té and Essoria cultivated gardens with what harpie stomachs did not digest. Lowland animists collected bones from such piles and read omens in them from deep within whatever narcotic haze their gods demanded.
Vélam took to the most familiar alley on his way home. He’d worked an extra shift at the lakefront café: the whole day (since sunrise) on his feet, to make what money would cover his journey across The Whispers. Now, in the alley (with harpies snapping widgets from midair and whistling territorial warnings to one another) he treaded his way home, his white shirt unbuttoned to his navel and the pale flesh of his chest exposed to the night air. At seventeen summers old, Vélam counted himself a man, though the sparse thatch of hairs on his chin told of boyhood less than a summer wilted. A man? There were women and street-boys (who walked with leg-spreading bravado) who judged him something less.
Their opinions were of no concern to him. He had only a few more months in this lakeside hovel that fancied itself a city. There was another life. On the other side of the Whispers, and his only concerns were there. Chelam and Vitt were there: Jemas and Patricio too. The recall of their names brought a smile to his lips, and now—in the darkness—with the noise of traffic before and behind him, Vélam wondered what number of harpies made their nests on the other side of the Whispers.
In a year, or maybe two, he’d find out.
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As always, thank you for viewing and reading and commenting on this and previous posts.
Comments (23)
Beautiful & Quiet Alley :) STS-127 MISSION LIVE
I love the mood, but now you'll have me dreaming of harpies all night! Wonderful image.
This is beautiful photo!
Wonderful work Chip! Always a pleasure and huge joy looking at your images and reading your amazing prose! :)
I want to read more! This is the perfect image for this, 'a passage for the passage, sorry!) That image of harpies snapping widgets from midair has got my mind working!
Harpies--what a great image that brings to mind!! Howling, shrieking, nasty creatures--I'd NEVER walk down that alley!! It's a great shot--moody, gives that sense of danger and trouble!! Not to mention your tale--always full of such detail and color!!
excellent work
An excellent shot, really superb!
Fantastic photo and narrative!!! +++5!!! Hugs. Orlando
tinged "so grande" this canyon of structures seemingly defining the starless path upon the earthbound and framing Velam's portrait, in the seventeenth seasons of his journey--not gray--looking forward; all in lyrical silence, a few decibels beyond the notable spectrum of noisemakers--coffee, cigarettes, and chipka, what a morning! Thank you!
As if dark alleys weren't dangerous enough ... now there are harpies hiding in the shadows. Something tells me those large hungry ones could be a problem. Velam seems a rather brave and interesting character, and his journey to The Whispers has me intrigued. As always, you weave realism and fantasy effortlessly. CC
great shot.
You can take an alley image and turn it into quite an enthralling tale. Glad I read this in the morning, now I won't be thinking about 'harpies' late at night...LOL
Your image perfectly illustrates your inventive prose. Glad I'm reading it safe, in my harpie free home.
Perfect shot - wonderful greetings York Made in Berlin
Ooh, the light and shadow and somber colors here really draw me...and I know harpies exist, we just haven't seen them because they're clever!
As usual a stunning blend of words and image. Well done.
I may be wrong about this but the harpies seem to have created some serenity and safety to what must otherwise be a rather foreboding place. Maybe because just thinking about the harpies and their nocturnal chatter takes the mind off what human dangers (and predators) which may lurk in such a narrow place. Maybe because the harpies were present there, this meant no other more dangerous things were about to frighten them off. I suspect the harpies may be more of a good omen in spite of the mess they tended to create. I wonder though what The Whispers actually is.
wonderful photo, great POV!!!!
Great story to go with your photo, the poetic flow of your words is as potent as ever, your story was hypnotic, enticing, and makes me want to read more...
I like your photograph, it's interesting and one could imagine all the people that walked this way with their separate thoughts that perhaps still cling to the walls of the alley way as they did so! I like also your writing, your interpretation of what you see when you look at "The Alley"
A pleasure!Read you and see your image!Both intense.Bravo!
Chip, great pov leading into the unknown! as always, you add up a lot with your written thoughts