Post by Nym Zeal on Oct 31, 2004 3:46:53 GMT -5
Sheerie
Hips sway with the gait of the horse, a walking gait, a continuous and fluid motion. The lights twinkle further out, blink on and off. A town, an inhabitance. The horse turns towards them, hooded rider slumped tiredly on his back. He raises proud hooves, click click click towards the trees. Leaves hang limply---droop over her head and brush the hood back. Tired, red rimmed eyes stare out, head swaying with the gait of the horse, a waking gait, a continuous and jarring motion.
The lights seem to move, stir in their spaces. The rider stares at them, staring so long that they begin to swim in the darkness. Loop upwards. Return to their places when she blinks, rubs her eyes. One hoof clinks, clatter slightly as the cobbles end and echo through the night. Rider's hands are youth, Rider's hair is silver in this light. Rider yawns, closing her eyes and shaking her head. The night is too long to ride through. Perhaps an Inn before they get to the marsh, a warm bed before she has to veer her horse through malleable, sunken land. The lights come closer. The lights always seeming so much closer, so much brighter. Shimmer, ever-changing lights.
Horse pulls back, rapid eyes. Rider coaxes, Rider coos, Rider cajoles. Horse will not listen though, the beast is suddenly senselessly panicked. The hooded rider dismounts and leads the creature, pulling hard at times and others walk companionably. Arms prickle with a chill, a shiver and then a quiet watching of breath rising. Her nose is cold and sniffly, wanting warm teas and then a blanket to pull over her face. She walks with that in mind, the mind of steam rising up her nose. The scent of chamomile lulling her to rest, rest even while waking.
Rider's eyes close, they shut and show long lashes gently tickling above her cheeks. She lifts them brickedly, her young hand letting slip the reins to horse. The creature backs up, one back hoof sinking into the marsh. He whinnies desperately, but the girl doesn't hear. Her eyes are rimming with light, the tiny jiggling lights now just ahead, swooping and cart wheeling. One cork screws and then leans in, veering off to the left in a blur, a tail of it's light following behind. Shrill sounds engulf Rider, the sounds doing strange things with her ears. They wiggled over the drum, driving into her brain and tugging, rearranging, snuggling deep within the cavities and bouncing off, shatter and multiply, split and fan out and then bounce back all at once, collide.
Her feet gradually become damper. The marsh isn't quite yet. Just past the city, just past the homely lights. Shrill sounds over and over, wearing hard on her. Young hands cover her ears, the lights overwhelming the sounds, the wet. The lights jerk her head this way and that. The lights demand her eyes, each of them over and over. She watches one and then another, starting to have to look up at the lights. Her legs are so wet, her hips are so wet. Water absorbs so quickly, but it's a thought they toss sideways, the lights. She follows the lights. So high---so high above her. She'd reach up, except, she won't. No, she'll watch, the shrill sound causing her to sway slightly and then step forward.
The cries say it's okay to breath in the water. To feel it filling her lungs, to watch what air is left leave in bubbles. They breathed in without air, in their mother's womb. Remember, Rider, remember the comfort of the womb. Rider curls up, the lights now bigger, stretched out in a softer glow. The light is so nurturing, the sound so beautiful. So intelligent. Breath in the water.
Nym Mun
(Just a little something in the Halloween spirit. It's an old prose poem of mine... still working out the kinks with the form. This is not an ideal example but prose poems themselves interest me still. Though my current voice in my work really wouldn't work with them. Mores the pity.)
Hips sway with the gait of the horse, a walking gait, a continuous and fluid motion. The lights twinkle further out, blink on and off. A town, an inhabitance. The horse turns towards them, hooded rider slumped tiredly on his back. He raises proud hooves, click click click towards the trees. Leaves hang limply---droop over her head and brush the hood back. Tired, red rimmed eyes stare out, head swaying with the gait of the horse, a waking gait, a continuous and jarring motion.
The lights seem to move, stir in their spaces. The rider stares at them, staring so long that they begin to swim in the darkness. Loop upwards. Return to their places when she blinks, rubs her eyes. One hoof clinks, clatter slightly as the cobbles end and echo through the night. Rider's hands are youth, Rider's hair is silver in this light. Rider yawns, closing her eyes and shaking her head. The night is too long to ride through. Perhaps an Inn before they get to the marsh, a warm bed before she has to veer her horse through malleable, sunken land. The lights come closer. The lights always seeming so much closer, so much brighter. Shimmer, ever-changing lights.
Horse pulls back, rapid eyes. Rider coaxes, Rider coos, Rider cajoles. Horse will not listen though, the beast is suddenly senselessly panicked. The hooded rider dismounts and leads the creature, pulling hard at times and others walk companionably. Arms prickle with a chill, a shiver and then a quiet watching of breath rising. Her nose is cold and sniffly, wanting warm teas and then a blanket to pull over her face. She walks with that in mind, the mind of steam rising up her nose. The scent of chamomile lulling her to rest, rest even while waking.
Rider's eyes close, they shut and show long lashes gently tickling above her cheeks. She lifts them brickedly, her young hand letting slip the reins to horse. The creature backs up, one back hoof sinking into the marsh. He whinnies desperately, but the girl doesn't hear. Her eyes are rimming with light, the tiny jiggling lights now just ahead, swooping and cart wheeling. One cork screws and then leans in, veering off to the left in a blur, a tail of it's light following behind. Shrill sounds engulf Rider, the sounds doing strange things with her ears. They wiggled over the drum, driving into her brain and tugging, rearranging, snuggling deep within the cavities and bouncing off, shatter and multiply, split and fan out and then bounce back all at once, collide.
Her feet gradually become damper. The marsh isn't quite yet. Just past the city, just past the homely lights. Shrill sounds over and over, wearing hard on her. Young hands cover her ears, the lights overwhelming the sounds, the wet. The lights jerk her head this way and that. The lights demand her eyes, each of them over and over. She watches one and then another, starting to have to look up at the lights. Her legs are so wet, her hips are so wet. Water absorbs so quickly, but it's a thought they toss sideways, the lights. She follows the lights. So high---so high above her. She'd reach up, except, she won't. No, she'll watch, the shrill sound causing her to sway slightly and then step forward.
The cries say it's okay to breath in the water. To feel it filling her lungs, to watch what air is left leave in bubbles. They breathed in without air, in their mother's womb. Remember, Rider, remember the comfort of the womb. Rider curls up, the lights now bigger, stretched out in a softer glow. The light is so nurturing, the sound so beautiful. So intelligent. Breath in the water.
Nym Mun
(Just a little something in the Halloween spirit. It's an old prose poem of mine... still working out the kinks with the form. This is not an ideal example but prose poems themselves interest me still. Though my current voice in my work really wouldn't work with them. Mores the pity.)
