• A Smith Gallery
• Deadline: October 14th 2024
• Prize: Exhibition + Sales + Publication
• Theme: Open
• Entry Fee: Yes
• REGISTRATION: CLOSED. Click HERE for more Opportunities
Adventure. Tale. Narrative. Myth. Drama. Fable. Saga. Fiction. Novel. Fantasy...
—oOOOo—
“Ah ha! Finally, the book will open!” exclaimed the storyteller, a gleam in their eyes as they stood before the gathering.
A sense of anticipation filled the room as all leaned in, forming a tight circle around the storyteller and the ancient tome that lay on the table. The book had long been a mystery—its cover worn and cracked, its pages sealed shut for what felt like centuries. Legends told of its secrets, stories passed down through generations about the powerful truths it contained, but no one had ever succeeded in opening it. Until now.
The air in the room thickened as the heavy tome began to quiver ever so slightly. A deep hum resonated from its core, growing louder, like the rumble of a distant storm. Suddenly, the book began to shake, dust lifting from the table in small, swirling clouds. Without warning, the cover flipped open, revealing its first page.
Leonore of Open Spaces gasped, her eyes wide with astonishment. “Woah, Sebastien, get the camera!” she called out.
Sebastien fumbled for his camera, trying to capture every detail as the room filled with a strange light. At first, the open pages were a blur, a confusion of images flashing too quickly to comprehend—words, shapes, symbols, and faces danced across the parchment, all too rapid to make sense of. The book seemed alive, its contents whirling as though caught in a whirlwind of time.
The storyteller, though, remained calm amidst the chaos. With a steady hand, they reached out and placed a finger gently on the page. “Quiet now,” they murmured, as if speaking to the book itself. “We need clarity.”
The book seemed to respond to their voice, the frantic motion slowing. Then, from the depths of the tome, a voice echoed out, soft but commanding: “Password?”
A hush fell over the room, the only sound the soft ticking of an old clock in the corner.
The storyteller smiled knowingly. “Kodakwatermelon,” they said, as if this strange word had been tucked away in their memory for just such an occasion.
At once, the book stilled. The swirling words and images settled into place, becoming clear and vivid as though a veil had been lifted. Pages upon pages of luminous illustrations and golden script unfolded in perfect clarity, each detail glistening as if freshly painted. The ancient knowledge within the book was finally laid bare.
The assembled crowd erupted in applause, their awe palpable. They had witnessed something truly magical, something that would be retold for generations.
Leonore laughed, her voice ringing out above the cheers. “Unbelievable! Sebastien, did you get the shot?”
Sebastien, still wide-eyed and in awe, shook his head. “I’m short on sodium thiosulfate for developing the film!” he exclaimed, looking panicked. His supplies had dwindled after days of waiting for this moment.
Leonore grinned, ever resourceful. “Don’t worry, Sebastien. I’ve got connections. We’ll get what we need.”
And so, the moment was saved, not just by magic or ancient words, but by the camaraderie and quick thinking of those present. As the celebration continued, the book lay open on the table, its mysteries no longer hidden, its secrets ready to be explored.
From The Book of Likenesses by Franklin Cincinnatus.
—oOOOo—
Kevin Tully, a juror for this “story,” is a photographer, designer, writer, and artist with over four decades of experience. His varied work spans landscape and furniture design, fine art painting, and photography. As Franklin Cincinnatus, his creative alter-ego, Kevin is crafting a unique collection of tales. For this project, Kevin will compose a special short story to accompany the Juror and Director Award images.
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