by Judith Rosenbaum and Shannon Bushee
Editor’s Note: This pair of work is part of Follow Your Art Community Studios’ 5th annual Art of Words exhibit. FYA artists and writers paired up, traded work, and produced new pieces from each other’s prompts.” The exhibit, which featured the work of 28 FYA artists and writers, was on display in the FYACS’s gallery in October and November 2025.
A Storm Is Brewing
by Judith Rosenbaum
by Shannon Bushee
(Prompt)
(Response)
The sea goddesses had sworn to stay out of humanity’s affairs. But that was before the humans started pretending to be gods.
There was a war on land. As always, the goddesses did not concern themselves with it. It was not a god’s business to weigh in on which mortals had offended who, or which country had what resources. If the human kings wanted to destroy each other over gold and gemstones and trinkets, that was their problem. It was tragic, but the goddesses had their own domain to oversee beneath the waves.
But then huge, metal battleships started sailing past on the ocean’s surface, above the goddesses’ heads. The ships blocked out the sun, cloaking their underwater kingdom in darkness. All of the ships, the goddesses realized, were converging on the same island. One with no warships of its own, only fishing boats.
Was it still a war if one side couldn’t fight back?
Debris washed up on their reefs. Bombshells. Burned clothing. The wreckage of humanitarian ships destroyed before they could reach the shore. The goddesses found food and medical kits—all unopened and still wrapped in plastic—littering the ocean, while people on land suffered and starved.
Then the life rafts washed up. What was left of the people who had tried to escape.
The sea goddesses changed their minds.
If you saw enough deflated yellow rafts with children in them, you’d want to start breaking things, too.
The human generals didn’t know how to explain it. It seemed impossible.
When the humanitarian ships approached the island, the skies cleared up, almost on cue. And when the rafts fled the island in the night, the waters stayed calm until they were safe, as if they were being protected.
But when the battleships approached, the waters darkened. Rain and wind and thrashing, wild waves pounded and pummeled the ships, as if the ships had invoked the wrath of the ocean itself. The storms refused to break until the battleships turned around and left the island—or until nothing remained of them but wrecked hulls on the ocean floor.
Once Upon a Time
by Shannon Bushee
by Judith Rosenbaum
(Prompt)
(Response)
Once upon a time, there was a princess. She lived in a tall, dark tower hidden deep in the woods.
Brave knights and handsome princes heard her legend and journeyed from near and far to rescue her. They had dreams of becoming kings, of stepping into the glory they knew they deserved. All they needed was a legendary act of courage to cement their heroism—a tower to conquer, a princess to save. After all, a king needed a queen as much as he needed
a crown; both were pretty things that symbolized a man’s power.
Maybe if a princess had been in a tower for long enough, any way out would seem like an escape. Even if it was ultimately just trading one form of imprisonment for another.
There was a monster who guarded the tower, with sharp claws and bloodied fangs and matted fur.
When the knights and princes approached the tower, they’d see broken swords, cracked helmets, and motionless suits of armor, all sprawled out on the grounds. All that remained of everyone who’d pursued this quest before them. They’d feel a chill go down their spines.
But this time, they knew, things were different. They were the Chosen Ones. They were anointed by God. Nothing was going to get in the way of the greatness they were owed: not a monster, not a locked gate, not barbed wire, not a clearly-drawn boundary.
They would break down the doors and search until they found her. Finally, they would see the silhouette of a woman at the top of a staircase, and they would know that they were about to step into their destiny.
At least until that silhouette started to shift, to grow claws, to run down the stairs on all fours at an inhuman speed that was impossible to escape.
Once upon a time, there was a princess, and there was a monster, and they were the same thing.
She didn’t need to be rescued from her own tower. She’d asked to be left alone.
She’d crack as many helmets as it took until they listened.
Judith Rosenbaum is a retired school adjustment counselor and got into painting and collage in retirement, about 8 years ago. She’s been taking Art 1:1 with Sara Gravante for several years at FYACS, as well as numerous online classes.
Shannon Bushee is a writer-in-residence at Follow Your Art who writes speculative fiction and children’s literature. She is currently working on a young adult fantasy novel. By day, she is a managing editor and technical writer in the finance industry.