Post by Mercyheart on Apr 25, 2010 18:58:34 GMT -5
A few posts I have made that are close to my heart.
My Terrier character, Bellatrix, relives painful memories of her past:
Trix had a bad feeling about tonight.
Being a small dog, Trix wasn't to enthusiastic about being alone in the middle of any night, but tonight especially. 'You are just being silly.' She told herself firmly. 'Absolutely loco' However, Trix could not shake off the feeling that bad things were going to happen. Why was she outside by herself again? Oh yeah, it was all because of a stupid walk. She had started on her merry way in the late evening and when she returned it was late at night. Trix had sighed, she knew how rude it would be to wake others by going inside so instead she decided to wait on the porch.
It was a nice night, despite the face that it was cold. The moon was bright and the Winter trees made pretty shapes in the night sky. Bellatrix tried to let her mind wander. She wanted a distraction from the fact that she was afraid. 'Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez...' Counting always calmed her. Soon enough her thoughts were far away from the troubling setting around her.
The air was cold, a chill that made her think of times long forgotten...
"Arrastre de mi hija" Trix's mother had long since given up speaking perfect Spanish, she preferred to string words together, grammatically correct or not. Trix could tell the difference, but she knew what her mother meant. "I'm not tired!" She yipped impatiently. Her mother chuckled softly and began to groom her daughter slowly and thoroughly. "Sleep now, and when you wake your father will be home." Trix's mother crooned in heavily accented English.
"I DON'T CARE!" Trix's mother exploded, she spoke so fast that her words sounded more like gibberish that English. That was something Trix remembered about her mother, her voice was very accented when she was angry. Trix's father looked stunned, "I'm sorry madam." He began stiffly, perfect posture and perfectly polite as always. The only trace of his anger was the dangerous glint in his eyes. "But I merely meant to point out that you have failed, once again, to recognize common courtesy." Trix's mother exploded at him, "I DON'T CARE, I DON'T CARE!" Trix stared, wide eyed from her nest of bracken, hidden among the brambles. Her mother had been angry before, but never so enraged. Her father, Miz, did not even respond, he simply condescendingly sniffed and turned his back on her.
Trix yanked herself out of the memory, she did not want to remember anymore! She did not want to remember her mothers shriek of rage, or her fathers cold glances. She did not want to remember her parents at all. "Nothing but misery." She whimpered, nothing but sorrow.
My Blind serpent, Coriolus, tries her hand at speaking:
It is said that an inquisitive spirit and a eager mind are the tools for greatness. However, what if you have neither? Rio, dazzled as she was, was vaguely aware that she was not beautiful, talented, or smart, by any normal standards. She could only guess that this was why wolves did not often stray to close to her. Even this simple theory had taken Rio quite a while to piece together, and she wasn't sure how to apply it yet.
Although she had the dim perception that there was still much more to understand, Rio was happy, or at least, a much watered down version of happiness.
It was in this state that Rio drifted into a certain cove. It being so early in the morning, a mist was still settled over the ocean and beach. Rio could not see this of course, but she had learned to recognize the signs. The dampness on her face, and the chilliness of the air. Wolves would not walk on these beaches for at least an hour more, she reasoned.
Rio made slow progress along the shore line. She meandered along, just past the surf, looking for a meal. From the smell of things it seemed that nothing but small, silver flying fish were to be had at this hour.
So what to do? It was quiet, Rio did not like it. Then break the silence! The idea came out of no where, much clearer than the ones that Rio usually had. She knew of only one way to make the still air feel more like home, "Rio." A horrible strangled sound came from her throat. Anyone who did not know better would think she was in pain. However, if you listened closely, you could hear a distinctive R, follow by a strangled I, then ending with a reverberating O. Rio could not say what that word meant, but she liked it well enough, and she had heard it often in her youth.
Rio was pleased with her little achievement, but she could not help but wonder, 'What else was there to say?'
I will add more.
My Terrier character, Bellatrix, relives painful memories of her past:
Trix had a bad feeling about tonight.
Being a small dog, Trix wasn't to enthusiastic about being alone in the middle of any night, but tonight especially. 'You are just being silly.' She told herself firmly. 'Absolutely loco' However, Trix could not shake off the feeling that bad things were going to happen. Why was she outside by herself again? Oh yeah, it was all because of a stupid walk. She had started on her merry way in the late evening and when she returned it was late at night. Trix had sighed, she knew how rude it would be to wake others by going inside so instead she decided to wait on the porch.
It was a nice night, despite the face that it was cold. The moon was bright and the Winter trees made pretty shapes in the night sky. Bellatrix tried to let her mind wander. She wanted a distraction from the fact that she was afraid. 'Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez...' Counting always calmed her. Soon enough her thoughts were far away from the troubling setting around her.
The air was cold, a chill that made her think of times long forgotten...
"Arrastre de mi hija" Trix's mother had long since given up speaking perfect Spanish, she preferred to string words together, grammatically correct or not. Trix could tell the difference, but she knew what her mother meant. "I'm not tired!" She yipped impatiently. Her mother chuckled softly and began to groom her daughter slowly and thoroughly. "Sleep now, and when you wake your father will be home." Trix's mother crooned in heavily accented English.
"I DON'T CARE!" Trix's mother exploded, she spoke so fast that her words sounded more like gibberish that English. That was something Trix remembered about her mother, her voice was very accented when she was angry. Trix's father looked stunned, "I'm sorry madam." He began stiffly, perfect posture and perfectly polite as always. The only trace of his anger was the dangerous glint in his eyes. "But I merely meant to point out that you have failed, once again, to recognize common courtesy." Trix's mother exploded at him, "I DON'T CARE, I DON'T CARE!" Trix stared, wide eyed from her nest of bracken, hidden among the brambles. Her mother had been angry before, but never so enraged. Her father, Miz, did not even respond, he simply condescendingly sniffed and turned his back on her.
Trix yanked herself out of the memory, she did not want to remember anymore! She did not want to remember her mothers shriek of rage, or her fathers cold glances. She did not want to remember her parents at all. "Nothing but misery." She whimpered, nothing but sorrow.
My Blind serpent, Coriolus, tries her hand at speaking:
It is said that an inquisitive spirit and a eager mind are the tools for greatness. However, what if you have neither? Rio, dazzled as she was, was vaguely aware that she was not beautiful, talented, or smart, by any normal standards. She could only guess that this was why wolves did not often stray to close to her. Even this simple theory had taken Rio quite a while to piece together, and she wasn't sure how to apply it yet.
Although she had the dim perception that there was still much more to understand, Rio was happy, or at least, a much watered down version of happiness.
It was in this state that Rio drifted into a certain cove. It being so early in the morning, a mist was still settled over the ocean and beach. Rio could not see this of course, but she had learned to recognize the signs. The dampness on her face, and the chilliness of the air. Wolves would not walk on these beaches for at least an hour more, she reasoned.
Rio made slow progress along the shore line. She meandered along, just past the surf, looking for a meal. From the smell of things it seemed that nothing but small, silver flying fish were to be had at this hour.
So what to do? It was quiet, Rio did not like it. Then break the silence! The idea came out of no where, much clearer than the ones that Rio usually had. She knew of only one way to make the still air feel more like home, "Rio." A horrible strangled sound came from her throat. Anyone who did not know better would think she was in pain. However, if you listened closely, you could hear a distinctive R, follow by a strangled I, then ending with a reverberating O. Rio could not say what that word meant, but she liked it well enough, and she had heard it often in her youth.
Rio was pleased with her little achievement, but she could not help but wonder, 'What else was there to say?'
I will add more.
