12-17-2018, 09:49 PM
[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]Upon surface of lips cracked and ruined, press of teeth felt a great many times within the past few days, it lingered, touched about corners drawn down. Half remembered words spun forth, found home within the idle twist of thought, gentle its weight about the edge of breath. Faint each memory contained within, dull had grown the colours of each until but shapes were each, features worn away and the shape of fingers, the crook of arm, the laughter spilling forth, all had become strange.
Disjointed the fragments upon surface of her mind. Darkness within the corners of the old barn, spaces between the wood permitting only faint shafts of light to find the ground strewn with soiled hay. Heavy the tone of yeast and grain drawn together, contained within heavy barrels, aroma tinged with what seemed almost like fruit, bread mixing within until pleasant had it been. Head swimming, enjoying the feeling of the wood beneath her fingers, looking into the mass that had become but a mash of various ingredients, parting about the smoothed piece of metal, his voice raising in song as he worked.
Breath caught in throat, sandpaper rubbing along the inner flesh, scraping and touching upon tips of teeth, arising with the touch of groan about its edges. Shift of head, lowering of the skull and faint the chuckle – oh how it hurts, feel the breath scraping and rubbing, the ache of it from disuse – pleasant the memory fading within the back of her mind. Different had that time been, younger the girl then, dirt upon her knees and spaces within her teeth, but then so too had such been a falsehood.
Attention moves, touches upon the bottles set by her side, small within comparison to the paw it leans against. She had entertained the idea of drinking for a time, wondering if the body she had come to inhabit may take well to such, the first time she had wrongly taken a drink of ale freshly taken from the barrel arising. Dark and rich the taste but so too had it been bitter, clinging to the surface of her throat, burning as it settled in her stomach, roiling and lurching, wanting to be rid of this thing it thought poison.
“Here goes,” cork easily removed, pop of it taken out, and press of glass to lips. Familiar the taste, near to half the bottle taken within the single swallow, displeased the groan. Different was the beer from what she had grown accustomed to, sweeter the tone of ales she had found a taste for, but enough was this, faint the buzz working into her mind, touching about thoughts grown quicker.
Disjointed the fragments upon surface of her mind. Darkness within the corners of the old barn, spaces between the wood permitting only faint shafts of light to find the ground strewn with soiled hay. Heavy the tone of yeast and grain drawn together, contained within heavy barrels, aroma tinged with what seemed almost like fruit, bread mixing within until pleasant had it been. Head swimming, enjoying the feeling of the wood beneath her fingers, looking into the mass that had become but a mash of various ingredients, parting about the smoothed piece of metal, his voice raising in song as he worked.
Breath caught in throat, sandpaper rubbing along the inner flesh, scraping and touching upon tips of teeth, arising with the touch of groan about its edges. Shift of head, lowering of the skull and faint the chuckle – oh how it hurts, feel the breath scraping and rubbing, the ache of it from disuse – pleasant the memory fading within the back of her mind. Different had that time been, younger the girl then, dirt upon her knees and spaces within her teeth, but then so too had such been a falsehood.
Attention moves, touches upon the bottles set by her side, small within comparison to the paw it leans against. She had entertained the idea of drinking for a time, wondering if the body she had come to inhabit may take well to such, the first time she had wrongly taken a drink of ale freshly taken from the barrel arising. Dark and rich the taste but so too had it been bitter, clinging to the surface of her throat, burning as it settled in her stomach, roiling and lurching, wanting to be rid of this thing it thought poison.
“Here goes,” cork easily removed, pop of it taken out, and press of glass to lips. Familiar the taste, near to half the bottle taken within the single swallow, displeased the groan. Different was the beer from what she had grown accustomed to, sweeter the tone of ales she had found a taste for, but enough was this, faint the buzz working into her mind, touching about thoughts grown quicker.