gencharming
Blue blouse, light material, pale skin. 27 freckles in varying shades of lightest brown.
You spy the tent from a few yards away, the low sunset framing it perfectly. You glance around, but nobody else seems to pay it any mind. The carnival music and smell and light fades; all of your attention has been wholly captured by this new object of curiosity. Its rich purple hue seems to shimmer and pulse, calling to mind the shifting shadow show you briefly viewed last night when you visited. You walk toward it, jostling through a noisy, joyous crowd of lissome teenagers dressed as the acrobats they undoubtedly have come to see. The tent entrance parts just as you step up to it, revealing a wide-eyed woman who looks to be in her mid-forties. Her long, auburn curls are just beginning to be tinged with gray at the temples. Her dress, a golden and flowing affair, is girdled by a wide blue sash. Her arms are ornamented with bangles that drip with strange charms. She looks at you, and in a brief moment your mind rapidly flashes through fantasies of being called to a great destiny, of facing terrible foes, of defeating enemies greater than any hero has ever faced before. She opens her mouth, you tense as you ready yourself for the magnificent prophecies that will surely tumble from her lips.
"Sorry sweetheart, you just missed the last performance, and -- oh, I'm sorry, are you lost? Here, we'll help you find your mum, don't you fret."
She takes you by your arm and leads you into the crowd, and your small, twelve-year-old brain reels in shock as you try to recover.
I was sitting underneath a tree, staring up at its dead, black, cracked branches. Tears stremed down my face. They made clean paths down through the grit that covered my whole body. I reached out longingly, hoping that it might still have a spark of life inside, buried, treasured away. It had been a few years since the attack. They sprayed everything and everyone they could find with a sickly, slimy oil. No one knew what it was exactly. I'd been hiding. I should have saved them. Oh, I should have saved them.
Was it all in vain?
-- a fairy godmother's dying thought
She was a princess and he the prince, but they'd never really got on very well, you see. They were supposed to be married one day, but that was rather problematic seeing as they couldn't stand each other for an afternoon, let alone the rest of their lives. It was a silly thing, she thought, and so she resolved to run away.
Elephants, and how in the world can giraffes still manage to look so graceful while they're bending over, they never fall, they just stay there and look ridiculous and beautiful and strong.
Whistling hungry wind
Shaping my hair
Shaping your feelings
You wanted me so bad
So violently, so ardently.
It was so frightenening
What was I supposed to do about it?
I just wanted to be friends
And when you tried to kiss me?
Why?