11-25-2018, 06:03 PM
[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]Brush of hum upon surface of lips, delicate the tone of rose upon skin left flaking, well known the touch of points blunt though spacing separated each. Child were they, slight the time that had seen them wrapped within the soft touch of innocence written across the home of heart, hollow its beat within the spacing of small chest, yet upon them age bore mark. Dull the eyes grown darker, found within gentle brushes of blue tones of green as though the sea which bore with it the echoing cry of something, worked through until seized was each breath, scraping along the throat and slight that which escaped, had risen to touch upon them.
Fear. Dark a thing as it found its way within the cage of ribs slight in their curve, containing within the home of it all, gentle the beat though it fluttered and danced, curling until it touched upon each nerve. Spark of it trailing along ends, touching upon the complex lines drawn through structure of muscle, worked besides the veins, sparking tingle working into delicate paws. Stretch of toes, curl of them as gentle tune is broken, slight the sigh parting its notes. Well they knew the thing within, felt as though a space had been carved for it within the confinements of their chest, cut apart their heart until secondary beat was it behind the original. Familiar within many ways, companion though discomfort toned the uneasy edge of crackling breath. Delicate the shadow of it touching upon child, within the tense set of muscle though the posture spoke of faint comfort, stretch of limbs accompanying needed action.
Twist of dried material, gentle the curl of it about claws more suited to the descriptor of needle, fine the translucent points, care within their work. Upon the journey present between the secluded island caught within the roiling touch of waves toned in shadings of blue and green and the mountainous terrain with its lace of snow they had taken up the grass, grown brown and brittle, suited to such work. Now they stretched out, warmth where the tan of sun kissed sand brushed along the soft tones of cream about side and belly, back legs stretched out. Yet for one familiar they may find within the tense set, how legs draw up slightly with the passage of seconds, tremor about paws so slight, twist of lilac appendages – soft the sound of displeasure as touch grows all too rough. Paper beneath fine points, breaking away as into the thin structure of the dried plant they cut.
Aside it is left, grown large the discard. Sigh touches upon lips and downwards do those eyes trail, find the loose structure of thing. Difficult to identify, make sense of the structure of grass and twine drawn together, figure within mind broken apart until there is no hint of the one it is meant to portray. Touch of claw, wondering for brief moment. Surface of thought broken, latched upon voice familiar. Broken had it been, syllables bleeding together until cough had shattered it, weak the smile he had put in place, trying to make excuse for such odd behaviour. Promise made readily, speaking of leaving him be and residing in another home for a time, but such was not wanted. Apparent was their distaste in such, curl of want in the way they pleaded and sat outside his home, called softly until voice broke, sung the tunes he once did for them. Splash of tears, warmth as they grit teeth and pretended all was right, that their chest did not pulse and ache, pain within encircling their heart.
Surely this once may be alright, this moment in such assistance was needed, when the failing vision obscured by clouding particles offered nought but fire, heat within the twisting knot of stomach.
Together swept the unused, the small doll within its half finished state, gentle the placement of it within the satchel worn about cream toned side. Familiar the smell of it, the waft of herbs, bitter some though undertone of sweetness there, the tart tang of berries, soft the smile touching upon lips as they breathed it in. Home. Such reminded them of home, of the man toned in gentle shadings of white and cream, the wings adorning his back heavy and the weight upon heart just as difficult to bare, but wonder was he, courage in the shattered remnants. It mattered not the pain he felt love, found within another such a thing and shared with it these children they had made together, the youth but one of many, delicate construct bringing together them both – not the best nor the worst but some of equal measure, the beginning of the end one may think.
Easy the trek, familiar the shift of minuscule grains given the heat of morning bled into early afternoon into the loose soil, mixed within sand shed from others passage before hardening, snaking the roots pushing through the earthen crust. Voice rose, song of sorrow and pain, speaking of death they bore no knowledge of. “Bebi... Mama...” Shaking, breaking about edges touched with faint wheeze, lungs squeezing until restricted was each breath. The way they spoke, the words echoing with the throb of sorrow and pain, deep within the core of each that found a place within pale ears, easy was it to guess something had been happened. Heavy the tone of it, infection and death, bitterly sweet it as it touched upon nose, invaded senses made better for their lack of vision.
“No... NO!” Voice rose in a sudden cry, sharp the sound of it, refusal to believe. Reaching, touching upon them, seeking warmth. Slight was it bound within the shadings of them, blur within vision made worse as the tears rose, quiet their fall, gathering upon jaw until, with a gentle sound, they fell. Quick was the warmth robbed from them, leeched as their lives had been, nothing more of the men that had brought about this tiny thing, child pathetic and weak, innocence and kindness, a child of summer with the taste of honey soured until they knew only the harsh taste of winter.
Hitching, breaking in the presence of hiccup, difficult to draw once more breath into lungs, until all at once they are turning, running from a place once deemed home. It matters not the voices, the calls to return – or might it be within their own head, the echoing beat of thought wanting them to return to them, make sure they knew well they may never forget – stumbling and tripping, sharp the pain as leg twists. Why did they have to leave, why did they go, surely they knew Kai needed them still. “I... I love you...” Words touched for brief moment upon lips, found perch before upon soft exhale it rose, the first taste of such though within they never felt it, hollow the empty space of chest, quiet the beat of heart. There was nothing within the screaming void, in the heat which touched about cold, ragged edges, coiling and expanding, touching upon every crevice until the chill was all that was left.
Fear. Dark a thing as it found its way within the cage of ribs slight in their curve, containing within the home of it all, gentle the beat though it fluttered and danced, curling until it touched upon each nerve. Spark of it trailing along ends, touching upon the complex lines drawn through structure of muscle, worked besides the veins, sparking tingle working into delicate paws. Stretch of toes, curl of them as gentle tune is broken, slight the sigh parting its notes. Well they knew the thing within, felt as though a space had been carved for it within the confinements of their chest, cut apart their heart until secondary beat was it behind the original. Familiar within many ways, companion though discomfort toned the uneasy edge of crackling breath. Delicate the shadow of it touching upon child, within the tense set of muscle though the posture spoke of faint comfort, stretch of limbs accompanying needed action.
Twist of dried material, gentle the curl of it about claws more suited to the descriptor of needle, fine the translucent points, care within their work. Upon the journey present between the secluded island caught within the roiling touch of waves toned in shadings of blue and green and the mountainous terrain with its lace of snow they had taken up the grass, grown brown and brittle, suited to such work. Now they stretched out, warmth where the tan of sun kissed sand brushed along the soft tones of cream about side and belly, back legs stretched out. Yet for one familiar they may find within the tense set, how legs draw up slightly with the passage of seconds, tremor about paws so slight, twist of lilac appendages – soft the sound of displeasure as touch grows all too rough. Paper beneath fine points, breaking away as into the thin structure of the dried plant they cut.
Aside it is left, grown large the discard. Sigh touches upon lips and downwards do those eyes trail, find the loose structure of thing. Difficult to identify, make sense of the structure of grass and twine drawn together, figure within mind broken apart until there is no hint of the one it is meant to portray. Touch of claw, wondering for brief moment. Surface of thought broken, latched upon voice familiar. Broken had it been, syllables bleeding together until cough had shattered it, weak the smile he had put in place, trying to make excuse for such odd behaviour. Promise made readily, speaking of leaving him be and residing in another home for a time, but such was not wanted. Apparent was their distaste in such, curl of want in the way they pleaded and sat outside his home, called softly until voice broke, sung the tunes he once did for them. Splash of tears, warmth as they grit teeth and pretended all was right, that their chest did not pulse and ache, pain within encircling their heart.
Surely this once may be alright, this moment in such assistance was needed, when the failing vision obscured by clouding particles offered nought but fire, heat within the twisting knot of stomach.
Together swept the unused, the small doll within its half finished state, gentle the placement of it within the satchel worn about cream toned side. Familiar the smell of it, the waft of herbs, bitter some though undertone of sweetness there, the tart tang of berries, soft the smile touching upon lips as they breathed it in. Home. Such reminded them of home, of the man toned in gentle shadings of white and cream, the wings adorning his back heavy and the weight upon heart just as difficult to bare, but wonder was he, courage in the shattered remnants. It mattered not the pain he felt love, found within another such a thing and shared with it these children they had made together, the youth but one of many, delicate construct bringing together them both – not the best nor the worst but some of equal measure, the beginning of the end one may think.
Easy the trek, familiar the shift of minuscule grains given the heat of morning bled into early afternoon into the loose soil, mixed within sand shed from others passage before hardening, snaking the roots pushing through the earthen crust. Voice rose, song of sorrow and pain, speaking of death they bore no knowledge of. “Bebi... Mama...” Shaking, breaking about edges touched with faint wheeze, lungs squeezing until restricted was each breath. The way they spoke, the words echoing with the throb of sorrow and pain, deep within the core of each that found a place within pale ears, easy was it to guess something had been happened. Heavy the tone of it, infection and death, bitterly sweet it as it touched upon nose, invaded senses made better for their lack of vision.
“No... NO!” Voice rose in a sudden cry, sharp the sound of it, refusal to believe. Reaching, touching upon them, seeking warmth. Slight was it bound within the shadings of them, blur within vision made worse as the tears rose, quiet their fall, gathering upon jaw until, with a gentle sound, they fell. Quick was the warmth robbed from them, leeched as their lives had been, nothing more of the men that had brought about this tiny thing, child pathetic and weak, innocence and kindness, a child of summer with the taste of honey soured until they knew only the harsh taste of winter.
Hitching, breaking in the presence of hiccup, difficult to draw once more breath into lungs, until all at once they are turning, running from a place once deemed home. It matters not the voices, the calls to return – or might it be within their own head, the echoing beat of thought wanting them to return to them, make sure they knew well they may never forget – stumbling and tripping, sharp the pain as leg twists. Why did they have to leave, why did they go, surely they knew Kai needed them still. “I... I love you...” Words touched for brief moment upon lips, found perch before upon soft exhale it rose, the first taste of such though within they never felt it, hollow the empty space of chest, quiet the beat of heart. There was nothing within the screaming void, in the heat which touched about cold, ragged edges, coiling and expanding, touching upon every crevice until the chill was all that was left.