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Jedi_on_Horseback
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Name: Becky
Gender: Female
Interests: dis, dat, and the other ting....Prince of Darkness, Duke of Doom, King of Terror....and other rotten things...(if you didn't get that, don't worry, it's a Gilligan's Island thing)
Expertise: scary looks, freaking out short people, doing stupid things (by accident), knowing obscure Star Wars trivia (and LOTR) if you couldn't guess that already!
Occupation: Padawan(student)horsecaretaker
Industry: Academy(college) and stables
Message: message me
Member Since:
11/16/2006
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| A sharp pang sprang from my lower abdomen upon contact with my tender,
probing fingers. After the pressure subsided, the pain did not but
continued, growing deeper into the inner tissues, like a fiery worm
wriggling its way to my spine.
A silent gasp erupted from me, my mouth agape, I probed again and
examined my smooth, mark-less skin. Again the same pain with greater
intensity came. This time I stood like a column, grimacing and waiting
for the imaginary worm to lay still. After the initial shock-like
intensity wore off, a dull warm, yet hollow ache replaced it. Throbbing
slowly, always present, a gentle warning to be still. | | |
| all alone. Like a pinnacle, an old ruin, a last standing column, the last survivor of a bygone age. Grass whispered between my knees, telling me secrets of the meadow in which I stood. Silent, cold, listening.
A courtyard it was, walled by living wood instead of dead stone. The trees danced and chanted in the wind, breathing thoughts of stories to each other.
A sudden sensation touched my face, icy and wet. Now the forest castle was a fountain, rain falling as tears from a wounded sky.
My eyes closed and I let the rhythm of nature lull me. Slowly, I moved forward, feet rustling a sweet tune in the misty-green ocean in which sailed.
There, the sound I heard before, a distant discord in the symphony of the outdoors. A sharp crack, magnified by the silence. Nothing could I see of the disturbance, but it's presence could I feel. I continued my voyage through my gray-green world. Again I heard the flatness in the music around me, but this time it continued as I did. I froze and again the forest was beautiful and cool. No sound out of place.
Still my eyes deceived me. My most used sense useless now. Again and again I tested my fears. Moving, pausing, appearing to asses my my direction, then continuing on, pausing to appraise an ornament of the field and continuing again. Every time I moved the sounds of discord followed, when I stopped everything was peacefully quiet. Perhaps too quiet.
Parts of the symphony were missing. No piccolo chirped in, high up in the fortress tower of the oak. No string section hummed as it flitted from heavily decorated throne to throne. The melody had died, drowned by the strange percussion that menaced its way through the wood.
I reached the edge of the empty field and entered the wall of dark green. But now instead of quiet secrets, the forest whispered hushed warnings. For I was no longer alone, I was followed.
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| Far ahead the corridor stretched; vacant, silent. Void of any life or light, cold to perception and touch. Along the endless space I walked, with each step the silence grew stronger, hungrier. Every footfall a hard tap, a tap that didn't dissipate but grew in proportions until the echoes clanged off the walls in a deafening cacophony of sound. The hallway was silent no longer, now there was no relief from the orchestra of vibrations. I screamed inside my head, desperate for the nightmare to end. The cold stone slabs that paved the way seemed to shiver. The length of the path itself grew in my mind until there was no end. No escape. I was trapped in an eternal onward tunnel. No doors sprang from the walls to lessen my despair. The steel, glassy stone blocks formed a perfect arch over my head; unbroken, unmovable, unbreakable. Far ahead the corridor stretched, unending.
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| I was bored.....
She sat alone, cocooned in a blanket as dark as her thoughts. Slowly, the chair rocked. Forward, backward, as evenly and meticulously as metronome. The gray world out the window was her eyes; stormy, with a lachrymose intent. She studied an old tree framed in the window. The bark, more green than gray, covered in a thin half-blanket of white purity. An invisible substance moved white specks between her vision of the cracked giant. A sudden gust of invisibility swirled the specks into a dance of cold fury. The bark on the tree; cracked, olive-green moss growing in between, as though it was a broken heart, trying to repair the damage, but never able to make it as it was before. The jostling snow as confused as her mind....
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| Ah, it's that time of year again; Walnut season: the time when hundreds of green golf balls fall from the sky onto lawns, porches, roofs, yards, decks and all sorts of places...including weddings.
It's also the time of year that means hours spent outside bending over the ground, filling plastic bags full of black-stained nuts. Then there's the matter of walking around in a yard covered in a bumpy, green carpet, which is hazardous to one's health and is similar to walking in a child's play pen that is full of lightweight, colorful, plastic balls.
Also, walking under a giant walnut tree should require wearing a hard-hat, as the green menaces fall from the tree with no provocation or preference of where the little grenades land and can very nearly hit anyone on the head with no concern with the health of the victim (I know from personal experience).
Never ever be outside near a heavy-laden walnut tree in the fall during windy weather or storm. The likelihood of being knocked unconscious is very high. The good thing about tons of walnuts is that after the back-breaking work of picking them up, they can be brought into town and sold or taken home after being shelled at a shelling facility and then enjoyed as a snack or in a scrumptious desert. That is, providing one actually likes walnuts.
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