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Thistles are pretty ‘n all but by then I had a bitch of an itch on my right ass cheek so I just had to sit down for a while. Well, not actually sitting. More like standing in the shallows of the creek that ran through this place, letting the water whizz passed me, the coolness of it feeling great against my frogs, soothing me. Like some asshole was massaging my feet, just for me, as though someone would be brave enough to touch them bastards. Really, though, I was starting to learn that it was a good thing to let myself sit down every once in a while, cool off from all the fighting and the screaming and the running around in circles and just… let myself think for a little while. Somehow that was a good idea. I mean, I dunno man. Not like I knew exactly what to think, or how to think, or anything of that sort. Like my thoughts were anything soothing or righteous or whatever. Children keep dying was one thought I kept having, which was far as hell from any sort of tranquility I could be getting. Darkness is all over the place, and I don’t know what to do. Thistles are terrible, they’re almost like sand on stilts. Jeez Pa, couldn’t you make your instructions even a little more vague? I wonder what Ma’s doing right now. I wonder if she’s thinking of me. I’ve got a bitch of an itch on my left ass cheek, goddamn. I sighed a ragged sigh, backing into a tree and rubbing my itchy cheek against it. Fuck me that felt great. But then I was moving and once I got moving I needed something to do and soothing foot-water wasn’t gonna stop that. Okay, fights, fights, I thought, but there was no one to fight and it seemed counterproductive to fight myself. Or…was it? Have I ever really practiced before? Well yeah, against a bunch of different bastards, or maybe like….two, three, or something. But had I ever really taken time for myself to discover…welp, myself? The point was that I needed something to do and I was bullshitting my way into doing it and when I ended up launching a searing-hot bolt of blue lightning from my horn into the trunk of another tree across the creek, my reasoning was that I was practicing and that was enough of an excuse for me. So I shot another one at the tree, at the black, sooty target I had made with my previous shot. I made another and there was a deep C R A C K from the center of the wood that made several birds titter and fly away from me (probably muttering “crazy bitch” as they did). It took one more shot to finally obliterate that piece of trunk, sending the tree falling to the ground (okay, okay, technically it was still sort of a sapling and it was pretty thin anyway but come on lemme just get that VP, ‘kay?). @[Shida] first--then others welcome! |
the Rift
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[OPEN] Nostalgia Critic
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 Please tag ROSKULD in every reply! | |||
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| Messages In This Thread |
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Nostalgia Critic - by Roskuld - 01-06-2015, 03:19 PM
RE: Nostalgia Critic - by Shida - 01-06-2015, 03:38 PM
RE: Nostalgia Critic - by Roskuld - 01-08-2015, 04:07 PM
RE: Nostalgia Critic - by Shida - 02-01-2015, 07:03 PM
RE: Nostalgia Critic - by Roskuld - 02-15-2015, 01:25 PM
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