I belted the fancy to my farce; you smiled, elven in the summer snows. Why couldn't we cinch our hips to the sun; why couldn't we play flutes on moons; why couldn't we sway under vellum stars, a thousand years old...
Do you remember when we had timid toes and dangerous desires? I remember hallowed hopes now fallowed fells. Today I frayed the belt centimeters more. I have notches and scratches and cuts and scuffs. And yet it clings to our wastes...
The weight of time grains into the leathers of years like wet cement and horsehairs I used to prance wearing, like feathered ladies. We no longer hold hands under slivers of moons and felt tip tents; I feel the missing space, the ache of addiction. I fear its satiation.
About the Creator
WOA
Just trying it out to see what its like.
Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
Love the imagery, so deep and rich.
Nice job!
The imagery in this is just wonderful. This idea of the belt is great and those last two lines are, I am not ashamed to say, epic.
I traveled a journey unaware of its necessity for my development as, at its end, it displayed what I pretended to ignore but could not abandon. Thank you for presenting your work.