Hall of Color

My first semester of grad school is finally coming to a close. I have one last paper to write, and one last class to attend. After that, I’m all yours, provided the holiday season at Target doesn’t kill me.

Anyways, our last assignment for my fiction workshop was to take a picture of one of the photographs in our school’s museum and write a 100-word story about it. I find that the trick to these is to write more than you have to and revise after, meticulously cutting the unnecessary words that you originally thought defined the story. After spending at least an hour cutting over 100 words, this is what I came up with:

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Hall of Color

The walls are colorless and bare, the hall full of fresh air seeping through its blue cloth canopy. Between ancient and modern, the beige walls, the glass doors, and the stone floor with a grove in the middle go unnoticed.

Translucent head scarves and colorful carpets hang high over everyone’s heads. Women with arched backs and wrinkles suggesting this is their life find a moment to blend in with their merchandise before forcing themselves to part ways.

A younger woman—newly thirty, relentlessly holding onto her youthful beauty—notices my camera. She grabs her wrist, concerned, hopeful, as I approach?

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