Weekly Skylights: The Tripod Looks to the Clouds

3 min read

Joey Cifelli ’23

Arts Editor

October 31, 2021,  

On a planet distant from this one, though not as far as it might appear, on the edge of a continent, in a dark place, a forest, there was a village. The sun, because there was a sun, much like here, sat on the edge of the horizon, seeming not very fond of moving in any particular direction, sort of wobbling, and the light it gave off which was already quite dim was further strained by the thick forest, leaving the village in a comfortable twilight. A few buildings lay scattered around the clearing. Houses in between the buildings. The less definable structures of any village, with vague purpose to an outside observer, nestled in the cracks between houses and in the open spaces where there remained the feeling of a nook. 8.2/10 

October 31, 2021,  

They were made of hardwood. Slightly glowing hardwood, emitting a dusty blue halo. In certain places in the luminescent logs the cut revealed a lacquered streak of translucent material. It gave the impression of molten glass, caught at a moment in time. A girl walked out of a home, rubbing her eyes. She looked like us, though her skin was green, softly green. In the state of half-sleep she stepped toward a bin of dark earth leaning against the side of the house. Pieces of rotting wood and curdling fruits and vegetables lay breaching the surface of the soil like jewels. The girl sniffed and set her hand inches above the mixture. Then, from somewhere in her hand, from many different points, threads, a twisting structure of almost invisible threads descended into the bin. 8.3/10 

October 31, 2021 

A flash in the dark. Three clicks. Underneath the heavy cast iron, blue flames poked their heads between the slats of the antique oven. He turned the dial. The flames licked the lip of the pan, now organ at the tips. Sparks of green fire blitzed through the streams every so often. He smelled ash and spice, the familiar scents of the pan coming to temperature. The ingredients lay on the carved table behind him, thoughtfully prepared and arranged. The first was a brown sort of nut, which he grabbed and with a quick clench crushed over the cast iron. The pieces sat on the surface of the metal for a moment before melting into a thick, opaque fluid. 7.9/10 

October 31, 2021

He stirred the fluid with a wood spoon, dipped his middle finger into it and tasted it. He added a drop of a red liquid from a corked glass bottle on a shelf above the oven. Nothing seemed to change, but he nodded to himself. The second ingredient was tossed into the pan, a handful of large scales which iridesced like pearls. They made a sound like rain falling against a window as they smacked the surface of the oil. In went a piece of fruit, or a vegetable. The outside of the strange plant was distinctly fruit-like, while the inside appeared to be, equally, a vegetable. In went a blend of grated and finely minced herbs, smelling like the least evening of autumn. Then a square piece of meat, red. And then, lastly, a dash of salt and a crack of pepper. He gazed into the pan, his creation, and had to admit he had no idea what he was doing. 7.7/10 

You May Also Like

+ There are no comments

Add yours