A poem inspired by LYNETTE YIADOM-BOAKYE's painting Nightingale
A fictional prose inspired by LYNETTE YIADOM-BOAKYE's painting Tell Them Where Its Got To.
Both pieces feature the key words GOLD and ASH
A short story briefed: The Weirder, The Better
We were supposed to meet at the bar on Fifth.
> you’ll know the one
I was in the back of the car, blacked out windows. The driver was on mute, frozen. It looked human but it’s eyes were wide and unblinking. It’s mouth clenched. The only movement on it’s face were the muscles pulsing rapidly beneath the skin and a black shadow curling across half it’s face, moving like waves. The car moved on its own.
A low, strained breath was released from the driver and we came to a halt. I opened the door, knowing we had reached our destination and stepped onto Fifth. It was dark and raining. The street was empty, no cars or souls flickered on it.
> walk
I pulled my coat collar up and walked. Celestial shapes danced across enormous white baroque buildings, like the rain water was reflecting against the stone. It was almost like fire, yes, like white fire licking across the walls, spreading through the tiniest cracks of infrastructure.
> move
It was night but it was bright like morning. The streetlamps were bust and the buildings were darkened but the street shone. The light silhouettes wound across every stone it touched, lighting up the whole boardwalk on Fifth. It was terror, beautiful terror.
“Yo, over here! Quick c’mon man, hurry up! They waitin’ on you bro!” Noel appeared down from some steps in between two large buildings. His Brooklyn accent echoed off the walls. “Hey bro? Are you comin’ or what? This way!” He waved me over.
I ran over to the steps and took them two at a time. The staircase was narrow and tightly fitted between two stone walls that made it almost impossible for two people to past through and virtually unnoticeable from the street below. At the top of the passage was a tall door. Noel was already waiting outside it. He turned to me, ran his hand through his hair and adjusted his shirt.
“You betta' sort yourself out too man, you look like a pile of shit.” He said coolly.
Even hidden between walls, Noel’s face was lit up with white fire. The light warped his features in a blur of surreal shadows, ones that shifted in and out of my realm of recognition.
> speak
“Sure. Sure...” I said finally, shaking myself out of my delusion. I too, ran my hands through my hair and shrugged in my coat.
“You good?” Noel said, his eyes shining darkly whilst light snaked across his face wildly.
“Yeah. Lets go, shall we?” I replied, collecting myself.
He smiled and slowly waved his hand across a small sensor which then flashed green. The tall door slid open. Out poured a flood of sound. We were drenched in purple, pink and blue light. We glowed in a neon hue.
Noel looked at me and smiled again.
> go
I followed him in.
