Member
"...If Ih hahd words...to make uh day for you; Ih'd sihng you uh morn'ng, golden ahn' true..."
A dozen rays bespeckled the forest floor through its leafy thatch, lighting up the woods in a dazzling display of light and shadow seen only rarely outside of the realms of fairytails; and as the morning softly tarried on, all around could be heard the sounds of the green: of clever fox skulking quietly from shallows to shade, of the multifarious insectoid choir in their joyous accompaniment to the robin's sweet serenades or, oppositely, of the snake's subtle whispers rustling underfoot. In the warmth of every stone and branch and contented ripple of the brook could be felt the presence of the Great Mother, and softly did she speak. She spoke of the mouse abound 'neath thicket's edge, of the minute ant scaling the hedge...the fair wildcat peering its head out from atop the grassy ledge. With his six eyes, Ifor took it all in - two forward and two down, with two adjacent either side of his curly-haired crown; the unparalleled beauty of the grove lost nothing upon him - and as he took a final bite from the cob's stalk, the hunchbacked boy felt the miracle of song flow through him once more...
"...Ih wuld make, thihs day lahst, for all time...by fihll'ng the nihhhgt, deep ihmmm...moo-oommshymme."
With a bounce and several further pratfalls the cob rolled to a halt, just short of its haplessly piled brethren in their equally ravaged states. Ifor picked the final traces of his vandalism clean of his digits - he could already hear the distant calls of Father across the way, and it wasn't wise to leave traces of the evidence; Speaking of which...
He quickly turned, squatting down into the leafshed and hastily chucking the vegetable carcasses into the stream. A gleeful smile crept up between his cheeks as they fell in one by one: "....Plop...Plunk...Ca-Ploop..."
"...Ooh-un iht.........WHO DUD IHT - WHO STOLE 'UHM?! IFOR, LAD, IFHOR ONE MORE TIME IH FIND OUT 'TWUHS YOU 'GAHN...!&%*"
...Hmm...time to go.
.........
"...who dud it..."
The words rang like a mockingbird in the man's ears, causing him to turn in bewilderment upon that odd figure looming beneath the lustrous cobalt light. Its skin was pallid and thin - more like a sheet of parchment than any substance of flesh; and those...eyes - a fair few times had he seen that look; the look of a beast, of a sentient and hollow cruelty keen to sick its misfortune upon whatever happened to be unfortunate enough to pass astride of it. No sense of emotion or empathy would ever escape those forsaken orbs...no, only hunger sat on its brow, in the twitch of its flared nostrils and the starkly gaunt grin it kept plastered between its ears. Such a repulsive Thing was unworthy of the Great Mother's gifts, or of even the Old Lord's sand-dial; such a Thing could not be respected, could not be reasoned with...such a Burden upon the grieving air would not be Well Missed.
With a sudden lurch, Ifor's short legs ploughed him head-first into the mockery of flesh and bone - colliding with a hefty "WHUMP!" as skull met ribcage in a muted, turbulent clash of mettle.
A dozen rays bespeckled the forest floor through its leafy thatch, lighting up the woods in a dazzling display of light and shadow seen only rarely outside of the realms of fairytails; and as the morning softly tarried on, all around could be heard the sounds of the green: of clever fox skulking quietly from shallows to shade, of the multifarious insectoid choir in their joyous accompaniment to the robin's sweet serenades or, oppositely, of the snake's subtle whispers rustling underfoot. In the warmth of every stone and branch and contented ripple of the brook could be felt the presence of the Great Mother, and softly did she speak. She spoke of the mouse abound 'neath thicket's edge, of the minute ant scaling the hedge...the fair wildcat peering its head out from atop the grassy ledge. With his six eyes, Ifor took it all in - two forward and two down, with two adjacent either side of his curly-haired crown; the unparalleled beauty of the grove lost nothing upon him - and as he took a final bite from the cob's stalk, the hunchbacked boy felt the miracle of song flow through him once more...
"...Ih wuld make, thihs day lahst, for all time...by fihll'ng the nihhhgt, deep ihmmm...moo-oommshymme."
With a bounce and several further pratfalls the cob rolled to a halt, just short of its haplessly piled brethren in their equally ravaged states. Ifor picked the final traces of his vandalism clean of his digits - he could already hear the distant calls of Father across the way, and it wasn't wise to leave traces of the evidence; Speaking of which...
He quickly turned, squatting down into the leafshed and hastily chucking the vegetable carcasses into the stream. A gleeful smile crept up between his cheeks as they fell in one by one: "....Plop...Plunk...Ca-Ploop..."
"...Ooh-un iht.........WHO DUD IHT - WHO STOLE 'UHM?! IFOR, LAD, IFHOR ONE MORE TIME IH FIND OUT 'TWUHS YOU 'GAHN...!&%*"
...Hmm...time to go.
.........
"...who dud it..."
The words rang like a mockingbird in the man's ears, causing him to turn in bewilderment upon that odd figure looming beneath the lustrous cobalt light. Its skin was pallid and thin - more like a sheet of parchment than any substance of flesh; and those...eyes - a fair few times had he seen that look; the look of a beast, of a sentient and hollow cruelty keen to sick its misfortune upon whatever happened to be unfortunate enough to pass astride of it. No sense of emotion or empathy would ever escape those forsaken orbs...no, only hunger sat on its brow, in the twitch of its flared nostrils and the starkly gaunt grin it kept plastered between its ears. Such a repulsive Thing was unworthy of the Great Mother's gifts, or of even the Old Lord's sand-dial; such a Thing could not be respected, could not be reasoned with...such a Burden upon the grieving air would not be Well Missed.
With a sudden lurch, Ifor's short legs ploughed him head-first into the mockery of flesh and bone - colliding with a hefty "WHUMP!" as skull met ribcage in a muted, turbulent clash of mettle.