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Sorrow & Red Roses
🕑 Added 2024-07-06 17:14:00 +0000 UTCWorking on a new theme ... thought I'd share it with all of you first.
Her story ...
In the heart of the ancient cathedral, beneath the crumbling arches and weathered stone, Seraphina sat in solemn silence. Her raven-black wings, once symbols of ethereal grace, now drooped with the weight of countless sorrows. Clad in a gown as dark as the abyss, she seemed a haunting yet beautiful specter against the backdrop of the decaying sanctuary.
Once, she had soared the skies as a guardian of the Celestial Realm, her wings shimmering under the radiant sun. But now, exiled from the heavens, she found herself bound to the mortal world, her heart heavy with a mysterious burden. A scattering of roses lay at her feet, their deep crimson petals stark against the cold, grey stone, symbols of a love lost to time and fate.
Seraphina’s thoughts wandered to the night she was cast out. Betrayed by those she once called kin, accused of a crime she did not commit. The memory of the celestial court, the faces of her accusers, and the moment her wings darkened in shame were etched into her soul. Yet, she harbored no desire for revenge, only a deep, unending sorrow.
The cathedral, abandoned for centuries, had become her sanctuary. It was here that she sought solace, away from the eyes of those who would fear or despise her. The once-grand hall echoed with the whispers of forgotten prayers, and the stained glass windows, though cracked and faded, still cast a kaleidoscope of colors upon her.
One evening, as twilight surrendered to night, Seraphina heard the soft padding of footsteps. She turned to see a young woman standing at the entrance, her eyes wide with wonder and fear. Clutched in her hands was a single red rose, fresh and vibrant.
The woman stepped forward, her voice trembling. “Are you the Fallen Angel of the cathedral? The one they speak of in hushed tones?”
Seraphina nodded, her gaze steady but filled with sadness. “I am she.”
The woman knelt before her, placing the rose at Seraphina’s feet. “I come seeking your blessing. My beloved is lost to the darkness, and I fear I will never see him again. They say your sorrow can heal even the deepest wounds.”
Tears welled in Seraphina’s eyes, not for her own plight, but for the pain of the mortal before her. She reached out, her fingers brushing the woman’s cheek, and in that moment, a soft, golden light emanated from her touch. The warmth spread, filling the cathedral with a gentle, healing glow.
“May your love find its way back to you,” Seraphina whispered, her voice a soft melody. “For love is the only thing that can pierce the veil of darkness.”
As the light faded, the woman looked up, her heart lighter and her spirit renewed. She bowed deeply before leaving the cathedral, hope rekindled in her eyes.
Left alone once more, Seraphina sighed, a mix of relief and longing. Though her own wings were bound by the weight of her past, she found purpose in easing the burdens of others. In her exile, she had become a beacon for the lost and the broken, her sorrow transforming into a source of profound healing.
And so, in the shadowed halls of the ancient cathedral, the Fallen Angel of the roses continued her silent vigil, a guardian not of the heavens, but of the hearts that wandered into her sanctuary, seeking solace and redemption.
Comments
Jim Jackson
Thanks Ron! Not all is lost. If you had a chance to read her backstory.
Jim Jackson
Hoping to open a gallery when I retire in about 5 years. Trying to get the portfolio and backing together to make it possible.
Ron
Very nice! I like how there is still a bit of white in her wing that maybe not all is lost and she may still be redeemed.
Jim Jackson
Thank you Ernest!! Very much appreciated!
Jim Jackson
Thanks Nico. Expect more changes of pace from me going forward.
Jim Jackson
Thank you very much!!
Renaud Bain Thouverez
Very interesting story
Nico Tusconi
Very cool. It's a nice change of pace.
Ernest Hall
I love the black gothic setting. This is really good, Jim. Your art is like something in a high-class museum. I could spend hours looking at your work.
