12-07-2020, 05:01 AM
WHEN I WAS ONLY TWELVE YEARS OLD
MY PARENTS WENT WALKING
I HATE THOSE WICKED WORDS THEY'D SAY
Respite found submerged among golden grains disturbed beneath passage tide wore against shifting edge, taken for a time that left his heart stone, weight encased in ribs that ached with want. Discouraged from such endeavour, however, recovery not assured and prolonged exposure may only worsen his condition. No longer may he heed the good advice, abandoned his placement among the sick. Familiar the creaking boards he tread, though comfortable the hollow forgein had it grown in a frame of time that was rather short, hesitation briefly halting his progression upon reconstructed stairs.
Hushed the sound, repetitive murmur, drag against sodden grains imparted with an imagined longing. Down did he step, bolstered by freedom plucked from unwilling hands, solitary his presence on the stretch of beach. Too soon disruption, proximity to that ringing cliff shaded hollow bringing quiet conversations, stilted as they were, concern pressed into wandering thought. Quickened his pace, mild the note made of those who had halted and looked within singular direction. Towards central focus child moved, steadily replaced the calm song of the tide, split the air by raucous cries, whipped into frenzy a small portion of sand, aloft on breeze unnatural.
About a scream his throat closed, grating the particles that lodged within nostrils, harsh the coughing fit forcing head down, alike ears pressed hard against his head. Soon gradual decline is staged, dull the ringing present in aftermath, confusion arising even as fear gently tugged, exhaustion present on outer rim of frantic thought. Closer did Foam stumble, lips shifting, framed words he might give no voice to. Almost seemed robbed the child, the air once held within his lungs taken, yet apparent how he took in tentative little breaths.
"Bad wind," quiet the remark finally spoken, harsh the lowered voice, tone imbued with apparent contempt. Had it been for that which had unconsciously been brought about within a moment of need or the one who wielded it one may only formulate a guess. Brief his regard of Rhine, swallowed want to be close with the other as he may have freely been in prior instances, rather he moved to lightly press against Dovah, lighter his voice as he spoke once more. "Bad wind gone."
Hushed the sound, repetitive murmur, drag against sodden grains imparted with an imagined longing. Down did he step, bolstered by freedom plucked from unwilling hands, solitary his presence on the stretch of beach. Too soon disruption, proximity to that ringing cliff shaded hollow bringing quiet conversations, stilted as they were, concern pressed into wandering thought. Quickened his pace, mild the note made of those who had halted and looked within singular direction. Towards central focus child moved, steadily replaced the calm song of the tide, split the air by raucous cries, whipped into frenzy a small portion of sand, aloft on breeze unnatural.
About a scream his throat closed, grating the particles that lodged within nostrils, harsh the coughing fit forcing head down, alike ears pressed hard against his head. Soon gradual decline is staged, dull the ringing present in aftermath, confusion arising even as fear gently tugged, exhaustion present on outer rim of frantic thought. Closer did Foam stumble, lips shifting, framed words he might give no voice to. Almost seemed robbed the child, the air once held within his lungs taken, yet apparent how he took in tentative little breaths.
"Bad wind," quiet the remark finally spoken, harsh the lowered voice, tone imbued with apparent contempt. Had it been for that which had unconsciously been brought about within a moment of need or the one who wielded it one may only formulate a guess. Brief his regard of Rhine, swallowed want to be close with the other as he may have freely been in prior instances, rather he moved to lightly press against Dovah, lighter his voice as he spoke once more. "Bad wind gone."
code by Reggan