12-03-2020, 06:50 PM
WHEN I WAS ONLY TWELVE YEARS OLD
MY PARENTS WENT WALKING
I HATE THOSE WICKED WORDS THEY'D SAY
Balance derived from endless cycle.
Among suspended points carded against the dark belly of the sky they may draw tentative lines, deem them thrones for those who crafted all and guided with sure hands, alive kept such by belief. But felt the shift, how seasons arose and fell, at times a gentle sweeping presence noticed with deliberate minute change, others a raucous and dangerous affair. Unprepared and thus off guard, onslaught the raging snow tiny paws worked through, frigid chill penetrating thin covering.
Worry touched lightly against vision that seemed incapable of shift, yet performed it at times, from child to the wider world moving before back drawn as though she were at his whim. Helpful thought a simple walk with her acting as support, too long had he been left alone within for necessary those capable, tended by others until stranger the denmother he looked to with an empty expression. Gentle the press, nose beneath belly guiding him to stand. Apparent now the improvements she had seen were imagined, her fear weighing against quickened heart, her movement stilling as silence broke.
Known identity before attention departing ailing charge, relief adorned tense smile, words falling from lips that trembled not with cold but something else. "I had hoped it was just a cold," hushed murmur fell from growing frown, fault her own even as blame shifted in mind of other, rolling hitch breaking uneven breath. "I should have known better." She did, had seen the signs yet ignored each, untempered the spirit simmering low, brought down by sickness that drew child deeper beneath his covering.
Slight the jolt, weight barely present, all the same coarse the fabric that dragged against short strands. Lips contour, voiceless words arising before pressure is built, parting about dry cough and not reprimand. Dark the narrowed eyes that peered through crack, smoothed those edges with realisation, however, strained the squeak he voiced. Together joined words, coalesced into a ceaseless hum of noise, adrift left Foam as looked to Rhine with evident confusion. "No go back." Harsh voice tumbling forth, to unsteady paws child once more standing yet collapse imminent, flakes sticking to nose that twitches with each sniff.
Denial stronger than anything his body wished to confirm, again struggle, upwards surging. Alone did he stand and lumenous the grin he turned towards Rhine, it seemed he accepts this as enough proof he was well. Disagreement from others as each approached in turn, over head conversation conducted. Quiet the anger that built as each took their turns, spoken of the best method to sooth throat that indeed ached, grown raw from the numerous coughing fits he had been subjected to. To Cottontuft vision turned, yet no respite found there, silent as she merely listened, hope present in tentative smile as handled that she was incapable of tending alone.
Annoyance built, lip caught and ground between teeth. Behind left once prior covering and between did he slip without care for response that may be caused by his sudden departure, left them to continue talking as he wandered the snow laced divet. He would not get far, particularly loud the sneeze that knocked his paws from under him, upon his hindquarters Foam left to fall, groaning as sodden paws rubbed at his nose. He was not sick, contrary to all the evidence that was continuing to pile up, and he shuffled about until his back was turned to the onlookers who deemed him such.
Among suspended points carded against the dark belly of the sky they may draw tentative lines, deem them thrones for those who crafted all and guided with sure hands, alive kept such by belief. But felt the shift, how seasons arose and fell, at times a gentle sweeping presence noticed with deliberate minute change, others a raucous and dangerous affair. Unprepared and thus off guard, onslaught the raging snow tiny paws worked through, frigid chill penetrating thin covering.
Worry touched lightly against vision that seemed incapable of shift, yet performed it at times, from child to the wider world moving before back drawn as though she were at his whim. Helpful thought a simple walk with her acting as support, too long had he been left alone within for necessary those capable, tended by others until stranger the denmother he looked to with an empty expression. Gentle the press, nose beneath belly guiding him to stand. Apparent now the improvements she had seen were imagined, her fear weighing against quickened heart, her movement stilling as silence broke.
Known identity before attention departing ailing charge, relief adorned tense smile, words falling from lips that trembled not with cold but something else. "I had hoped it was just a cold," hushed murmur fell from growing frown, fault her own even as blame shifted in mind of other, rolling hitch breaking uneven breath. "I should have known better." She did, had seen the signs yet ignored each, untempered the spirit simmering low, brought down by sickness that drew child deeper beneath his covering.
Slight the jolt, weight barely present, all the same coarse the fabric that dragged against short strands. Lips contour, voiceless words arising before pressure is built, parting about dry cough and not reprimand. Dark the narrowed eyes that peered through crack, smoothed those edges with realisation, however, strained the squeak he voiced. Together joined words, coalesced into a ceaseless hum of noise, adrift left Foam as looked to Rhine with evident confusion. "No go back." Harsh voice tumbling forth, to unsteady paws child once more standing yet collapse imminent, flakes sticking to nose that twitches with each sniff.
Denial stronger than anything his body wished to confirm, again struggle, upwards surging. Alone did he stand and lumenous the grin he turned towards Rhine, it seemed he accepts this as enough proof he was well. Disagreement from others as each approached in turn, over head conversation conducted. Quiet the anger that built as each took their turns, spoken of the best method to sooth throat that indeed ached, grown raw from the numerous coughing fits he had been subjected to. To Cottontuft vision turned, yet no respite found there, silent as she merely listened, hope present in tentative smile as handled that she was incapable of tending alone.
Annoyance built, lip caught and ground between teeth. Behind left once prior covering and between did he slip without care for response that may be caused by his sudden departure, left them to continue talking as he wandered the snow laced divet. He would not get far, particularly loud the sneeze that knocked his paws from under him, upon his hindquarters Foam left to fall, groaning as sodden paws rubbed at his nose. He was not sick, contrary to all the evidence that was continuing to pile up, and he shuffled about until his back was turned to the onlookers who deemed him such.
code by Reggan