Writing A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words.

[Charles]

[IMG]http://www.mythinglinks.org/Cup_ofDeath~c~richd~ByElihuVedder3.jpg[/IMG]

The painting you see above is entitled "Cup of Death."

In my class, we did an exercise where we had to create a brief story, simply by observing the painting. I have posted my impression of the painting below.

I thought that it would be pretty fun if others also tried. Should anyone be interested, remember that you don't have to do a serious style. You could write about Harry meeting Sally for all I care. It would be fun to read, lol.

Yeah, so if you find mine boring or whatever, don't feel bound to it. Use your own style.

[B]My Version[/B]

[size=4][color=red][B]S[/color][/size][/b]omehow she awoke in a place outside of space and time. Underneath death's pitiful gaze, madam enjoyed the last of her days. The fallen angel of death, lord of the perished, carried his newest bride across the threshold of neither heaven nor hell, but somewhere in-between, removing her from the life she once cherished.

His wings rose and fell. A chorus of regretful whispers and wails belonging to those long passed, cradled and lifted the cursed lovers beyond the setting sun and into a somber, moonlight night.

Bowing his head, whispering sweet incantations, the bridegroom gently raised the cup of death to his new wife. Between her lips passed a sweet, forbidden nectar. A blind bargain she had made, drinking to her wedlock on the cursed grounds of Eden.

One last gasp escaped, a choking plea. It whistled between rustling grass and finally found the heavens that her soul could not, desperately begging an unseen God for redemption. Decaying, rotting, dying, she raised her arms, opened her palms and begged, "Mercy, mercy."

God did not answer. It's not his way. And rot she did, pleading, bleeding, immortality denied.

[Raiha]

[COLOR=royalblue]*sigh* That is such sweet sorrow.....

And now for my version........*snort*
~~~~~~~~~~~[/cOLOR]
[COLOR=seagreen][i]The two met in the fields of Demeter....Death held the cup to his beloved, Persephone. His eyes spoke what she must do......
The light in her eyes faded, and she let her head fall in rejection and sorrow. Bringing the chalice (sp?) to her lips, Persephone drank her fill. Death's eyes flashed with light, then he wrapped his wings about her and descended into the depthes of the earth.[/i][/COLOR]

[Mitch]

[color=red] I'll make up my own version when I get some time and post it on up here. It might be some time before I get it up here since this Saturday is my Birth Day, but I will add it.[/color]

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Wasn't it Hades, and fruit? Anyway...

The vision seemed to blur, and trascend reality. As if it were more intense than the firestorm that ravaged his body. Pain seemed a memory, overstressed nerves shutting down. Coldly, he took stock of his situation, and attributed it to near death. He mastered damaged faculties and forced his eyes open, to look one last time at the woman standing below him.

As Jesus died, he did so wishing his vision of Mary on the cross was uncanny reality, not deranged illusion...


Sorry, had to do it.[/font][/color]

[Raiha]

[COLOR=seagreen]Hades, death, big deal. Hades is the Lord of the Dead. It's the same thing.[/COLOR]

[RicoTranzrig]

[COLOR=darkblue]Guess I could give it a shot...:)


[i] Darkness was overshadowing the light. People in the mortal realm were falling to sin. War ravaged the land, people neglected the beauty of the world. There was nothing left.

An angel heaven sent by God appeared, carrying with him the blood of Christ. The angel went about searching endlessly for the lost and innocent. After years of discontent, he found a woman, nearly overtaken by satan. She stumbled to the angel, desperate to be saved. He held her tightly to keep her from falling and raised the cup. She drank...and the life escaped from her.

The angel left the mortal realm before the arms of hell devoured him, leaving the woman behind. As the angel crossed the threshold, she was there with him, safe in the arms of heaven.[/i][/COLOR]

[Charles]

Raiha, yours was really unique. So far, you're the only one to actually give the woman and location a name. Persephone sounds very nice. I really like that approach.

Harlequin, I loved your interpretation as well, in that I also haven't seen anyone use the figures to represent Jesus or Mary. But, like others, you represented the "male" figure as a victim. Good stuff.

Rico's and mine are like opposite sides of the coin, lol. I actually felt good after reading that. It was more of a story form, instead of symbolic and managed to shed a bright outlook on bleak imagery. Even though "his" lover is facing death, she isn't painted out to be a victim. It's more of an escape.

I'm anxious to see Anime Lover's. ^_^;;

[Sui Generis]

Nephlan sighed. It was time. She had done this to save her love, but was she ready? Questions like this were pointless, it didn't matter if she was ready or not her death had come. "Execution by Poison." Thats what the sign said. She looked back at her love and walked towards her fate. As she walked on everything around her disinerated. She was a cursed soul now. Every step brought death to the plants around her. She once was the beauty of the world, bringing happiness and love to the world now to bring death and hate. All because of love. Was love worth it? Thoughts of pity ran through her mind. Why did it have to be her?

A man then stepped out from behind a tree. Nephlan shivered at the sight of this also wretched soul. His face seemed to be frozen with the most grotesque position imaginable. The only thing that seemed to resemble life itself were his eyes. His eyes burned with what seemed to be twisted pleasure. He looked at her contently, attempting to turn his chisled mouth into a cruel smile. What came from his efforts was even more frightning. This man had to have come from the pits of hell, no other reason could explain the horrendouse appearance of the man. As they walked together he occasionally looked back nervously, as to make sure noone was following.

They finally arrived at the hill. She expected to see green trees and grass, but what she found was much different. The sky was black, everything was charred and burned. There was no green at all, only black and brown. The whole air had a stench of death in it. She looked around and realized the man had disappeared, and for a moment she felt relieved. Nephlan stood there not suer if she should run or not. Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore the grotesque figure hobbled back to her. He was holding a cup. She understood. The man held the cup to her lips and she took a sip. As the toxic went down her body she became weak and her vission blurred. With her last breathing moments she opened her eyes and looked into the distance. She saw her love, she then knew she would die happy. Then something struck her. Horror ran through her body, he was smiling. She then looked back at the grotesque figure, however it was no longer a man, but the god of death himself. A laugh rang through her ears. She knew who it was. It was her love. With no will to live, she collapsed into Death's arms and died alone and cold.

Sorry I couldn't really work on it that much..

[Raquel]

The girl stumbled, her heart pounding in her chest... Sharp rocks bit into her feet and hands as she scrambled up the mountainside, drawing blood... The Vampyre stood at the top of the mountain that the girl desperately tried to climb... His fair skin contrasted sharply with his ebony hair and wings... Cradled in his flawless arms hung another girl, blood streaming from the perfectly round holes in her neck... The Vampyre dropped her into the pile of bodies lying at his feet... His eyes resembled flakes of obsidian, chipped from the chalice that he held... Lead vials hung from his neck, 13 in all, each but one holding a virgin spirit of a girl... Each girl was exquisite and pale, each one almost exactly alike... But still they did not satisfy his never-ending hunger... He still strived for the last soul... But the thirteenth soul must be pure and uncorrupt... This small child scrambling up the stone could not be the final soul...She was small and gangly... Imperfect... Her hair was a muddy brown and her nose had been broken several times... She was physically ugly... The only attractive features was a pair of emerald eyes, burning with hatred... It began to rain the Vampyre spread his wings and welcomes her with open arms... A scream of rage escapes he throat and she flings herself at him, a shining blade clutched in her hands... The Vampyre easily catches it and turns it in her grip, driving it into her stomach... The girls lovely green eyes widen and she screams, her own dagger gutting her slowly... The Vampyre caresses the tanned skin of her face to her chin... He tilts it down and dips his fangs into the jugular vein... The girl collapses listless and bleeding into his arms...

Vampyre: The soul... It's pure... Finally... My wait is over...

He catches her blood in the half full chalice and then offers it to her lips, tipping it down her throat... Her wounds heal and she stands all wounds and malformed features becoming perfect and white... The new Vampyre turns and the cup drops, shattering among the corpses far below...

Vampyre: Beloved....

[Mitch]

[color=red] I finally got to typing this up. Sorry for the long wait, and here it is:

[i]The angel had spoke to her in a dream. It had come to her and it ad spoken. It said it spoke the word of God, and she believed. She more than believed, she knew.

"You shall drink the cup of death which creates life," the angel had told her, told her in the word of God. "You shall live one more day of like. Then you shall live eternity in life."

And when she had awoken to the beautiful forest which was her home, she was uncertain, unknowing, questionable, about what the angel had told her. But she knew it had been the word of God, and God would show her the path she must take, and she would take the path which he had chosen, no matter how hard.

So she lived her day as regular as she could make it. She talked to her various animal friends, told them of what God had spoken to her, told them she wouldn't be here the next day. She had eaten her hearty meals of berries, nuts, mushrooms, and fruits. She did what she could do to her heart's content as day turned to afternoon; afternoon turned into evening; and finally, evening turned into darkness.

As she stood by her favorite tree she had known all of her life she stared at the moon, a glare of perpetual motion. And as she stood there, the minutes creaking by as if they were eternity, a glowing aura appeared from upon the sky. It seemed to shower everything about it in a beatific glowering way. It caught her attention almost like a moth upon a light. As she stared, slowly a glowing figure appeared. Oh so slowly it appeared, its wings going out in a V fashion about its back, its hair standing briskly upon its head. She felt so many emotions at that one moment?fear, nervousness, hope, despair. But she knew she must not fear, she must not despair, must not feel tense. Because this was the path God had chosen for her, one way or another, and it was the one she was going to take and except with hope and admiration.

The messenger of God slowly descended to her, a cup clamped within its holy hand. The angel reached her, and she tried to open her mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. The angel spread out its clamped hand, unclamping it, revealing the cup of her death. The angel then placed the brim of the cup upon her luscious lips, slowly tilting it, as the red fluid began to flow into her body. She then began to cough and sputter violently, and her eyes slowly closed for the very last time.

Guilt and sympathy appeared upon the messenger's face. Taking back the cup, he placed it upon his very own lips, pausing, then tilting what remained of the red liquid into his mouth. The fluid flowed into him, becoming the essence of his death. And as he died anew for sacrifice of guilt, his spirit slowly floated up towards the sky. He could see far into the distance her spirit, but a dot in his view, floating to become born again anew. [/i][/color]

[Silent Death]

This is all I could come up with.

In a time where the smell of death expanded thoughout the land. Where millions died inoocently in the name of one's ambitions and greed. In the midst of the carnage and bloodshed, one dark figure stood up unwilling to go to hell for sins he have not commited. "I refuse to die this death, for someone else" he cried aloud pointing towards the sky. A couple minutes after he said this a cup appeared before him, the cup of death. With it, he was to end the suffering of million people before he would have the privilage to ascend to heaven.

Three years later, he comes upon a woman dying in the fields. As he raised the cup of death towards her mouth, wings sprout from his back. As this woman's feelings and life essence leaves her, the cup disappears and he starts to float towards his final resting place.

Three years of releasing souls only to have his wings wither away and have him falling to depths of hell because he did what he did for personal gain and not for the sake of mercy, so he finally died the death he said he didn't deserve eariler.