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03-30-2013, 01:49 PM
 Being as young as I was, it didn’t take much for the simple quiet life to cause innumerable amounts of fun. Momma kept things relatively easy, she sheltered me from gossiping ears and made sure that all my needs were well met. I had gotten lucky, my existence wouldn’t be shortened by lack of nourishment or the luster of hate. No, she cherished me as if I was her beloved treasure; and in a way it felt like I was. Through her I was already learning valuable lessons, how to love and show affection. When to be silent, and when to speak. How to speak. More often than not I spoke before thinking, and often confused words and images together. One quiet evening, I heard a sound. A cry in the dark, spinning tales of woo. Children had a way of slipping past their guardians without notice. I wasn’t a disobedient youth, but when the shrill call came rising through the trees and mother didn’t stir, my limbs found themselves silently removed from her side and trailing toward the direction of said voice. She was deep in slumber, those silver eyes closed in peaceful dreams that I didn’t have the heart pry open. Plum appendages stumbled across the rocky terrain. Walking had become easier over the past week, my body felt stronger, less encumbered by the weakness of infancy. Yet with all my practice, every so often a stone would hit my soft shoes, causing balance to fail and me to trip a little. After walking for a few minutes, I paused, testing all the new scents that had arisen on my little adventure. I searched the scattering of trees with face lifted, and little dual eyes peering through the darkening space ahead. Near the mountains face I noticed something odd; or well…odd to me. A shape flickered once, picked up by the valley wind. My eyes followed the silky tendrils realizing that the shape was hair, and attached to the hair was another creature standing upon the edge of a cliff. Instantly curious I stood by, gazing up at the shadow thing without fear or worry. I watched her as I might have watched a grasshopper or butterfly, all the while wondering what might happen next. |
