This piece was inspired by last week's Snapshot Prompt. My story is 322 words, so well within the 500 word max. The required words are in bold. Inspired to try? Be sure to link up your submission to the prompt post by tomorrow at 8 pm EST and you will also be entered into our monthly ad contest.
Karen looked out her window, shocked to see the world had turned white and grey. George, her husband, had mentioned a storm system was coming in and he might be late home, but he was late so often she hadn't paid much attention.
She shuffled her slippered feet, mulling over the inch of powdery fluff. The slippers did have hard plastic soles, but the tops were knit and she didn't think they would survive the trip to the mailbox. Most likely it was junk mail anyway, she told herself. Or a bill or two. She wondered if they might keep until Spring.
Karen grabbed her cup of coffee and headed downstairs to the basement. A quick check on the washer showed it was still turning, so she ignored the laundry room in favor of her studio. Flicking on all the lights, Karen crossed the tile floor to her latest sculpture. She stared at it a long moment, still a misshapen hunk of wood roughly the length of her 10-speed bicycle and as thick as her hand. Originally she thought she would carve a mural into it, but as she looked at the knots and the waves in the grain, the wood began to speak to her.
An illusion, then, of depth. A frame as attached to the piece as it's picture. Pieces that curved out and away, not just on ... She wouldn't title it yet, though a name already tickled the edge of thoughts immersed in the image of what this wood could be.
Karen had put her coffee down long ago, her pencil marks scattered over the raw wood. She refused to take her eyes from the design, desperate to get it started before this first rush of vision, of discovery left. She grabbed blindly for a chisel, discarded the first and then the second until the right size came to hand. The hammer as well - and it could begin.