06-11-2021, 03:59 PM
i’m some sick hound, digging for bones
if it weren’t for second chances, we’d all be alone
if it weren’t for second chances, we’d all be alone
The sound of the river disguises the sound of her approach, so when she speaks he cannot be certain if she’s a living thing or a dead thing.
He turns his head in the direction of her voice, blinking his unseeing eyes and tilting his golden head. He sucks in a sharp breath, testing the air, though he is too young for this to be effective. The dead thing laughs at his attempts.
“Are you an alive thing or a dead thing?” he asks the voice.
The dead thing howls! Such a foul mood the dead thing is in today. Wildly unhelpful and vengeful. Teasing and mocking. Dead thing, the soul tells the boy and the boy sighs. Not that it makes a difference, really. Although maybe an alive thing could help guide him away from the river if the dead things were only going to make fun of him and try to drown him all day.
He takes a series of shuffling steps backwards away from the edge of the river until the female voice sounds again, says ‘don’t’ and he stops.
“Why?” he asks, frustration brewing in the cage of his chest.
She will drown you, the soul tells the boy and gives him a phantom nudge in the ribs and the boy gives a little kick and shouts, “stop it!” at the soul, who gives another spectacular howl of laughter. And the boy, who must look to be having some kind of fit, stomps a front hoof and slaps his small tail against his flank and bares his little teeth, says, “I just want to go home!”
He tells it to both the dead things, nostrils flaring. “So one of you better tell me how to get there!” He doesn’t care which dead thing guides him, just so long as one of them gets him there safely.
He turns his head in the direction of her voice, blinking his unseeing eyes and tilting his golden head. He sucks in a sharp breath, testing the air, though he is too young for this to be effective. The dead thing laughs at his attempts.
“Are you an alive thing or a dead thing?” he asks the voice.
The dead thing howls! Such a foul mood the dead thing is in today. Wildly unhelpful and vengeful. Teasing and mocking. Dead thing, the soul tells the boy and the boy sighs. Not that it makes a difference, really. Although maybe an alive thing could help guide him away from the river if the dead things were only going to make fun of him and try to drown him all day.
He takes a series of shuffling steps backwards away from the edge of the river until the female voice sounds again, says ‘don’t’ and he stops.
“Why?” he asks, frustration brewing in the cage of his chest.
She will drown you, the soul tells the boy and gives him a phantom nudge in the ribs and the boy gives a little kick and shouts, “stop it!” at the soul, who gives another spectacular howl of laughter. And the boy, who must look to be having some kind of fit, stomps a front hoof and slaps his small tail against his flank and bares his little teeth, says, “I just want to go home!”
He tells it to both the dead things, nostrils flaring. “So one of you better tell me how to get there!” He doesn’t care which dead thing guides him, just so long as one of them gets him there safely.
orson
@[kota] oreo had a lil mood swing