crystal cascade

#20: The Chandelier

By: The_Dalek_Emperor

Length: Short

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE

The year my mother and father were wed my father bought his wife a very beautiful Baccarat chandelier. It weighed one ton and hung down two entire flights of stairs. Because it was so large my father searched high and low for a home that could accommodate it. He chose a very old palatial home in the Welsh countryside. The mansion was six stories tall and in the middle of the home was a tall, spiraled atrium with a glass ceiling. The stairs wrapped around the walls of the spire encircling the great chandelier at the top.

As far back as I can remember I would spend my days lying underneath the cascading crystals far above and watching the twinkling prisms catch the sunlight and cast vibrant, breathing rainbows across the walls. My mother would smile at me and giggle to my father behind her hands. I was a romantic, she said, a dreamer. Father would smile knowingly but never bother to glance my way. He only had eyes for my mother, at least until my brother George came along.

But I wasn’t a dreamer, no, I fought sleep with every breath. I much preferred to spend my evenings dancing in the star fields that twinkled in the spire on clear nights. If moonlight shone into the great atrium it was transformed by the Baccarat into a million shimmering, glittering tiny stars. The chandelier was always gently, gently swaying even without a draft in the house and it would make the crisp, vibrant celestials dance upon the wall to a song I could almost hear. And I would dance among them.

One day I awoke from an afternoon nap to the sharp sound of a protesting metal groan. I arrived at the banister just in time to see the Baccarat’s metal supports snap in two. The chandelier fell half a story until it was brought to a violent and abrupt halt by its last remaining support - a thick, nylon rope.

George was playing with a train set far below and I screamed at him. He looked up at me for just a moment and then he was obscured from my view as the nylon snapped and the chandelier went crashing down five stories to the first floor where my mother had thrown herself protectively over George.

My father would only shed his tears for them behind closed doors. A week after their deaths Father had the Baccarat repaired and rehung. It had been my mother’s and he loved her deeply. Perhaps he liked to look at it and think of her. But I like to think he rehung it for me because he knew how much I loved it.

But the chandelier wasn’t the same. The gentle cadence it had loyally kept was now replaced by a stillness as absolute as death. The rainbows were dull, almost colorless and the dancing stars that had once glittered upon the walls at night were absent and the spiraled atrium remained as dark as the heart of an onyx.

I still spend my days and nights lying on the floor looking up at the chandelier and hoping its magic will return to me. Some days I can almost see the vibrant colors and speckled starlight. Most days I see nothing at all.

But nothing at all is better than the nightmare that peeks through the veil sometimes, cruel and uninvited. Sometimes I can feel the cold and the hunger and the pain in my chest. Sometimes the dark nights and dull days make sense. Sometimes I can see the chandelier for what it really is. Because sometimes I remember that it wasn’t the Baccarat that my father hung at the top of the atrium that day - it was himself.

the warmest winter

word count: 407

He hears her laughter just before he feels the ice, cold powder hit his neck and fall down the back of his shirt. He turns to her and she has a devilish glint in her eye and her bottom lip hidden partially behind her teeth.

“So you think you’re cute?” he says, already knowing the answer. Of course, she is. She’s much much more than. But, she doesn’t have to know that he knows that.

Before she can respond he’s grasped a handful of snow in his hand and races towards her. She shrieks as he drops it on her head, the white crystals cascading down her hair.

They spend the next few minutes throwing snow back and forth at each other laughing or yelping depending on who the target is. In an attempt to grab more snow Shawn moved quickly and felt his feet slide out from under him.

Great.

She quickly fell to her knees beside him, “Are you okay?”

He opened his eyes to see her concerned eyes and delicate hands hovering over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he said looking away. Besides his ego and tailbone. It took him a second to meet her eyes, but he didn’t regret it when he did.

He met her gaze and felt a smile pull the corners of his lips up. Her eyes wide and the small, white flurries getting caught in her eyelashes and in her hair. Their eyes watched each other for what felt like hours to Shawn.

“Why are you staring at me you creep,” she laughed breaking their eye contact.

He felt his hand move up to brush the snowflakes away from her eyelashes. His thumb lightly brushing her face, but when he was done he did move his hand.

“Are you gonna keep looking at me like that or are you gonna kiss me?” She asked knowingly. She smiled, but he could tell that she was nervous.

“I mean if you want me to, I guess so,” He said coyly, teasing her.

“Oh stop, Shawn,” she cried covering her newly pink cheeks with her mittens, “I’m sorry I said anything at all.”

His hands moved to her wrists, pulling them away from her covered eyes, “I’m not.”

He leaned in and placed his lips onto hers. Despite the snow falling around them, it felt like the warmest winter Shawn had ever known.

10

A few more shots of my new Elsa Ice Queen cosplay—-showing the side, front and back. The cape is approx 90″ long x 100″ wide, and made of an icy looking crystal organza embedded with her fractal designs and hundreds of various sized AB (aurora borealis) gemstones in the center of each snowflake. The bodice has iridescent sequins, just like Elsa’s in the movie—I was THRILLED to find them—along with hundreds of 17mm baguette AB gems and 2mm crystal gems cascading at the waist/hipline. I lined the skirt in royal purple this time, since I saw the LE Elsa 11″ Designer Doll had purple lining (as well as official artwork if you look closely), and hand dyed the sleeves. After I dyed them, affixed thousands of 1.5mm pale blue gemstones all over the sleeves and also 2mm AB gems in her snowflake/fractal patterns. I used a gorgeous AB 3mm stretch gemstone trim along the top of the bodice. The skirt is made of an Elsa-inspired fabric that has silver threads running vertically all through it. It’s a horrible pain to work with—it frays like no tomorrow! But it really looks like her skirt/ice, so it had to be used. Hope you like my updated cosplay!! I’m really pleased with it and now I think it’s finally satisfactorily finished and won’t be ‘redone’ again! What do you think?

I love the ruggedness of New England as it helps foster a challenging and vibrant landscape, and the area surrounding Crystal Cascade in Pinkham Notch is about as rugged of terrain as it gets. This piece is a wide view of the tall and powerful cascading waterfall. 

The Chandelier

by reddit user The_Dalek_Emperor

This story was the highest rated story of October:

The year my mother and father were wed my father bought his wife a very beautiful Baccarat chandelier. It weighed one ton and hung down two entire flights of stairs. Because it was so large my father searched high and low for a home that could accommodate it. He chose a very old palatial home in the Welsh countryside. The mansion was six stories tall and in the middle of the home was a tall, spiraled atrium with a glass ceiling. The stairs wrapped around the walls of the spire encircling the great chandelier at the top.

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The Chandelier.

The year my mother and father were wed my father bought his wife a very beautiful Baccarat chandelier. It weighed one ton and hung down two entire flights of stairs. Because it was so large my father searched the whole of Britain for an estate that could accommodate it. He chose a very old palatial home in the Welsh countryside. The mansion was six stories tall and in the middle of the house was a tall, spiraled atrium with a glass ceiling. The stairs wrapped around the walls of the spire encircling the great chandelier at the top.

As far back as I can remember I would spend my days lying underneath the cascading crystals far above and watching the twinkling prisms catch the sunlight and cast vibrant, breathing rainbows across the walls. My mother would smile at me and giggle to my father behind her hands. I was a romantic, she said, a dreamer. Father would smile knowingly but never bother to glance my way. He only had eyes for my mother, at least until little George came along.

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Run, Wolf Warrior, Run
Joyce
Run, Wolf Warrior, Run

Run, wolf warrior, to ends eternal
Through the wreckage of the death of the day
Scent of silence under starlight spinning
A captured beast within a human skin

Are you searching for long lost landscapes
Lit by flowers and crystal cascades?
Where the lamb lies down with the lion
Where the wolf is one with the wild

Run, wolf warrior, through kingdoms’ chaos
Senseless cities and ghost towns towering
Howl, o hunter, though few know you’re crying
Face upturned into that midnight moon

Are you hunting for mystic mountains
Where the air is like liquid laughter?
Where the beasts inherit the earth
Where the last again will be first

Run, wolf warrior, to hide your hunger
The rain will wash away the pains of the day
In your eyes there are cold fires burning
Tongues of flame that can never be tamed

Are you running from man’s delusion
Majestic madness and your exclusion
To where the lamb lies down with the lion?

Are you running down ancient pathways
Through this dark and deserted land
To where man is once more a child?

Are you running to freedom’s fortress
By the side of wide open seas
Where the wolf is one with the wild?

Run, run, run…

Run, run, run, run, run, run on, run on through the rain…

The Chandelier

credit to- The_Dalek_Emperor

Trigger warning. Can’t tag it or it will give the ending away. Message me if you need to know it.

The year my mother and father were wed my father bought his wife a very beautiful Baccarat chandelier. It weighed one ton and hung down two entire flights of stairs. Because it was so large my father searched high and low for a home that could accommodate it. He chose a very old palatial home in the Welsh countryside. The mansion was six stories tall and in the middle of the home was a tall, spiraled atrium with a glass ceiling. The stairs wrapped around the walls of the spire encircling the great chandelier at the top.


As far back as I can remember I would spend my days lying underneath the cascading crystals far above and watching the twinkling prisms catch the sunlight and cast vibrant, breathing rainbows across the walls. My mother would smile at me and giggle to my father behind her hands. I was a romantic, she said, a dreamer. Father would smile knowingly but never bother to glance my way. He only had eyes for my mother, at least until my brother George came along.

Keep reading