Measured Words

Teeth

What’s with the fork, you ask?

Well, let me tell you, it’s kind of a funny story.

See, I had dental work when I was a kid. Getting a few adult teeth pulled while I was still growing would prevent later overcrowding, I might not need expensive braces and orthodontist work later on, yadda yadda. Seemed like a good plan at the time, of course. I’m told I have a lovely smile on account of it.

You can’t really plan for how life will twist and turn on you though, and twist and turn it did. Turns out that canine teeth are really important for some people.

Yeah, a pickle fork, if you like. Two prongs. Actually it’s an antique. Sure, I might just use a knife, but I’m something of a traditionalist, and this leaves a certain appropriate visual aesthetic that I find appealing.

In any case, enough chitchat. It’s dinner time.

Spring is their symphony. The sound, the singing, fills my head, blocking out all thought. My ears ring, empty, when they briefly break from their nigh-constant resonance. The evening is their time – my head aches with the humming.

This is how it has become: they sing, and, all else driven from my mind, I listen. This simple meditation brings me peace. Now, I find no peace without the humming.

I sit at a desk, a glowing screen before me. Around me, there is only chatter. My ears ring with an echo that breaks all concentration. Someone speaks but words barely reach me. I stare into an empty face, searching for absent humming.

That room is gone now. Summer comes. I sit outside, listening, always. My thoughts drown, and I am consumed with the humming.

A yard, a path, a wood, I follow. The sun blazes, and I follow the song. It grows fainter, days grow darker. My peace is fading and I am left with nothing but ringing noise. I follow deeper, questing for the humming.

The song has closed, the concert ended. The cold time has come. I will sleep here, sleep and banish bland ringing sound from my empty shell. When spring comes, I will be filled with a symphony of humming.

Challenge piece for August writing - ten minute free-write. This is a concept I've been trying to work out in my head and try to figure out how to express, and I think this was a good exercise. I finished the last entence ust after the time went off. I could have certainly expanded on he last bit but I wanted to keep in the confines of the time limit! And notw you can all see that I'm a slow typist ;) I did go back and fix errors after the time was up, also.

( What is horror? )

Just a little something to get out of my head. Based on a true story! ish! :V

Lashing Out

She remembered its *kind* - seen them passing outside the window on their long leads, happy and obedient. But this small one had invaded her home. It chased her and invaded her spaces and worst of all it stole her love.

And when she’d refused to submit, that displacement had become physical and she found herself abandoned – no shelter, no food, no caretakers. Nothing.

She’d learned to fend for herself quickly enough. There was water to be found and she learned to hunt, instinct long repressed guiding her actions. Still, she grew lean. She’d never been big. She did her best to care for her health, but living outside, there were issues she just couldn’t content with on her own. Fleas, ticks, other parasites. Still, she tried her best to survive.

And trying made her bitter.

And bitterness made her angry.

And her anger lead her to thoughts of revenge.

She sought a target. One who was young, like the one who had displaced her. One who was loved. One whose caretaker was soft enough on the inside. She found them, both girls. The target was older than her tormentor, but young enough to satisfy. The woman was kind, and dedicated, and just soft enough, she hoped.

She stalked the pair, coming closer, daily to their home. She harassed her target, shedding all fear of the larger, stupider creature. It had teeth but no bite. Her weapons were her claws, her wretchedness. The first for her target, the second for the woman.

The woman protected the target, and yet she seemed to weaken. She gave out small tokens of love, while keeping the target out of harm’s way. She left their home open…

But the target remained.

Maybe this one was soft enough for two loves?

The cat backed off to consider.

The writing exercise for today played nicely into what I have planned for the last bit of Shadows 10, so I figured what the heck! Here it is :) I have 10.3 written as well, and just need to find time to ype it up. We'll see - maybe later this afternoon.

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“I don’t think you’re very good at this,” the woman’s voice taunted in a sing-song tone. Marla shrank down into the b hollow between the tree roots, wishing she didn’t agree so fully with her pursuer’s assessment. She also wished that her back-up from the fort would arrive. It was weeks overdue, and at this point the situation had far exceeded the bounds of her training. The other woman stopped to chant the words of a spell, and a feeling of dread washed over Marla.

“I can see your terror, little spy. You’re not good enough to hide from me!” The footsteps drew closer, crunching ominously against the forest’s dry underbrush. Marla tensed, ready to bolt. “Ahh, there you are.”

The voice was filled with a malice incongruously matched to the woman’s appearance. She looked like any other refugee: dirty, scrawny, and tired. But there were other details which cloaked her evil in an aura of innocence. Laugh lines. Greying hair and sparkling, merry, eyes. The months of travel had left her thin, but Marla had no trouble imagining her with a little extra weight. It rounded out, so to speak, the image of a friendly matron, always with a cookie or a sweet in hand for a hungry or lonely child. It would have been all too easy for such a creature to lure in the abandoned children who’d followed this band out of the city. No one else cared enough about them to do more than notice when they fell silent and turned into automatons, waiting for her command to release the demons she’d bound into their shells. Most had barely even noticed until it was too late.

Marla looked up into the sorceress’s face, noting how cruelly her lips twisted downward into a sneer, distorting her otherwise friendly features. Springing forward, Marla swung a kick upward, landing it firmly between her pursuer’s legs. The woman doubled over in pain, and Marla was off, scrambling to her feet and tearing back through the trees towards the safety of the other camp.

DELICATE DREAMS PRINCESS W/HOR

My wallet (black fake fur with a glow in the dark skull in crossbones – it Is worn out but surely you can understand why I am loathe to part with it!) currently contains generic things. Credit and bank cards, some money. An old copy of my birth certificate. Various punch hole cards for free food and ice cream. Some other id, and so forth. Loose change. Lots of lint. Not much special. Except for two little tags I’ve been carrying around for years now.

They’re pretty innocuous, in theory. One if from Toys R Us, the other from a toy display at some grocery store – I can’t remember where I grabbed it. Maybe the Superstore in Fredericton.

My little cousin (well technically my cousin’s son, whatever that makes him to me) went through my wallet once, and asked me why I had them – why I’d felt the need to steal these price stickers. I told him they were funny. He disagreed. I told him he wasn’t old enough o understand. I think maybe I just have an intensely dirty mind. Maybe it’s both.

Barbie Nibbles Horse, $19.98.

What does that bring to mind for you? A perfect plastic princess, sprawled in sexless nudity on her hands and knees, looking up shyly, or maybe slyly, at the camera as she advances towards a rearing plastic stallion who is maybe a little more anatomically correct? Is this a toy store or something you might find on the top shelf of the seediest x-rated film stores? Barbie Nibbles Horse. Marked down from $29.99.

No one wants to shell out to watch you debase yourself in such bestiality, Delicate Dreams Princess…. Is that ‘with horse’ or just whore less an ‘e’? Only $19.99!