The sun has just risen.
The horizon melts away into a bulbous form that takes on the shape of a large semi-sphere just beginning to ascend into the sky. Green bleeds back into a whitish sky-blue, and then further up, an indigo. Cirrus clouds streak the heavens, awed and sitting next to her on a slope of a hill, backs to the way they have traversed. Molten colors begin to shiver with the haze of the early morning mist beginning to burn off. It will be a few hours until that eventually happens; it is always a pleasure to watch until the sun is fully in the sky. Then, and only then can the day begin.
Impatience is nonexistent. On the grassy hill, the scenario unfolds for those youthful faces full of hope and quiet awe, while staring off into the distance, captivated. The bare tip of the sun breaks away from the horizon like a retrogressive teardrop; an invert bead of gold. The edge of the horizon shakes, ripples, and then separates mint-green from the copper base of the star. Liquefied air quivers before settling. Already the shadows are retreating, awaiting night once more. The paper thin clouds drift by lethargically, airbrushed onto the canvas of perpetual blue.
Dark eyes find green ones, and she smiles with love and unbound passion. Soft, heart-shaped thoughts budding from a river of sighs. Leaning in, she offers a kiss as languid and soft as the morning dew. She draws back to open eyes of sincerity, but there's a darkness lining the edge of her countenance.
Pain like sliding down a razor's edge fills her eyes, mouth peeling back as lips melt into the haze of a deteriorating backdrop. Teeth shimmer in the sun and laughter fills the air, but it's source isn't from her, yet it is a yawning hollow at the crest of the sun's form that twitches and slyly curves up at the newly budded corners.
Her, life as it has always been known, dies in all but reality as skin slides like wax over bone growing from her cheeks and brow and shoulders. Empty sound emits, she hunches over, quaking and jerking as hands grasp at the voided air before her. She reaches.
Reaches.
Golden hair, once so beautiful, crowns an ashen skull that grins; agony turns to emptiness in her eyes, while the smile bears more empathy, desire. Reaching. Reaching.
Running, breathing hot and thick. Suffocating. Tears burning through the darkness that infests everything it touches.
Grass slithers and withers as tiny horns spiral from green stalks. Gnarled hands spread from branches of trees, opening dormant eyes and jagged teeth of bark, speaking with voices from within the recesses of blistering red, furnaces once hollow and quiet. Great behemoths with unsteady gaits lope in the distance, corporeal body parts joined together in a melting pot, limbs protruding from its bulbous body; its eyes, thousands of them upon its husk, twitch and stare all around its form as it walks. They raise their heads, one after another, and cry a deep, mournful sound full of tears and pain and despair.
The carcasses of the dying still moving drag uncooperative limbs behind them as they dawdle, trying to bite the air. A mockery of a kitten nipping at bugs. Others were humping each other or rocks or trees. The latter would coil fingered branches around the violators and drag them into hungry mouths, roots rising to shove the foodstuff greedily into their orifices. Smoke plumes from between the teeth of crunching jaws smiling like the sun.
Distance needs screaming, haunting. Home. Through the door and past remains of one parent being eaten by the other, and into the nursery...
The horizon melts away into a bulbous form that takes on the shape of a large semi-sphere just beginning to ascend into the sky. Green bleeds back into a whitish sky-blue, and then further up, an indigo. Cirrus clouds streak the heavens, awed and sitting next to her on a slope of a hill, backs to the way they have traversed. Molten colors begin to shiver with the haze of the early morning mist beginning to burn off. It will be a few hours until that eventually happens; it is always a pleasure to watch until the sun is fully in the sky. Then, and only then can the day begin.
Impatience is nonexistent. On the grassy hill, the scenario unfolds for those youthful faces full of hope and quiet awe, while staring off into the distance, captivated. The bare tip of the sun breaks away from the horizon like a retrogressive teardrop; an invert bead of gold. The edge of the horizon shakes, ripples, and then separates mint-green from the copper base of the star. Liquefied air quivers before settling. Already the shadows are retreating, awaiting night once more. The paper thin clouds drift by lethargically, airbrushed onto the canvas of perpetual blue.
Dark eyes find green ones, and she smiles with love and unbound passion. Soft, heart-shaped thoughts budding from a river of sighs. Leaning in, she offers a kiss as languid and soft as the morning dew. She draws back to open eyes of sincerity, but there's a darkness lining the edge of her countenance.
Pain like sliding down a razor's edge fills her eyes, mouth peeling back as lips melt into the haze of a deteriorating backdrop. Teeth shimmer in the sun and laughter fills the air, but it's source isn't from her, yet it is a yawning hollow at the crest of the sun's form that twitches and slyly curves up at the newly budded corners.
Her, life as it has always been known, dies in all but reality as skin slides like wax over bone growing from her cheeks and brow and shoulders. Empty sound emits, she hunches over, quaking and jerking as hands grasp at the voided air before her. She reaches.
Reaches.
Golden hair, once so beautiful, crowns an ashen skull that grins; agony turns to emptiness in her eyes, while the smile bears more empathy, desire. Reaching. Reaching.
Running, breathing hot and thick. Suffocating. Tears burning through the darkness that infests everything it touches.
Grass slithers and withers as tiny horns spiral from green stalks. Gnarled hands spread from branches of trees, opening dormant eyes and jagged teeth of bark, speaking with voices from within the recesses of blistering red, furnaces once hollow and quiet. Great behemoths with unsteady gaits lope in the distance, corporeal body parts joined together in a melting pot, limbs protruding from its bulbous body; its eyes, thousands of them upon its husk, twitch and stare all around its form as it walks. They raise their heads, one after another, and cry a deep, mournful sound full of tears and pain and despair.
The carcasses of the dying still moving drag uncooperative limbs behind them as they dawdle, trying to bite the air. A mockery of a kitten nipping at bugs. Others were humping each other or rocks or trees. The latter would coil fingered branches around the violators and drag them into hungry mouths, roots rising to shove the foodstuff greedily into their orifices. Smoke plumes from between the teeth of crunching jaws smiling like the sun.
Distance needs screaming, haunting. Home. Through the door and past remains of one parent being eaten by the other, and into the nursery...
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