04-23-2015, 02:17 PM
all things are possible
even the worst of things
even the worst of things
He can only listen with complete fascination as she describes her life amongst the heavens, of her mother the star and her father the nebula. He has little concept of what she says. To him, stars are the faint white lights that twinkle high up in the night sky. He has never seen a nebula before. Only the faint imitations that hang in the atmosphere once in a very great while. To him, everything she says sounds beautiful and fascinating. And it is all so different and foreign that he cannot help the sparks of imagination that run away with him. And though the pictures in his mind do little justice to what she is truly talking of, his imagination makes them large and fantastic in a way she had probably never dreamed. In his mind, he can see her, see himself, running amongst a field of white stars, laughing and gamboling about in delight. And though he knows his imaginings are just that, a fantasy, he cannot help the small smile that touches his dark lips.
When she states that she does not know how she ended up here, he nearly asks if it matters. But he does not. Because, to him, it would matter. His ever curious mind would want to know, would need to know. It would be like a song, with one discordant note that you can’t quite catch or fix. It would be maddening. At least to him it would be. So he does not ask.
You must miss it there.
A touch of sympathy enters his dark gaze. He knows only that if he could never see his mother or father again, he would miss them terribly. And for that his young heart goes out to her. He can only imagine what it would be like to be ripped from the only home you have ever known. And it is not a pleasant imagining.
Do you like it here at least?
When she asks about his missing tail, he flicks a brief glance at his decidedly bare behind. He has never known what it’s like to have a tail. Is it possible to miss something you have never known? It was not something he had ever really given much thought to. To him, it just is.
I was born without one.
When she states that she does not know how she ended up here, he nearly asks if it matters. But he does not. Because, to him, it would matter. His ever curious mind would want to know, would need to know. It would be like a song, with one discordant note that you can’t quite catch or fix. It would be maddening. At least to him it would be. So he does not ask.
You must miss it there.
A touch of sympathy enters his dark gaze. He knows only that if he could never see his mother or father again, he would miss them terribly. And for that his young heart goes out to her. He can only imagine what it would be like to be ripped from the only home you have ever known. And it is not a pleasant imagining.
Do you like it here at least?
When she asks about his missing tail, he flicks a brief glance at his decidedly bare behind. He has never known what it’s like to have a tail. Is it possible to miss something you have never known? It was not something he had ever really given much thought to. To him, it just is.
I was born without one.
shahrizai