I hope this means that you had a good evening playing with the boys, and not that people at work were driving you to distraction :) I've wandered over the character limit again, but I think you won't mind. At least, I hope you won't :)
Tomfoolery The hippos were unsummoned, fading away back to wherever they’d been. Their memories would steadily fade too, over the course of the next eight hours, until they’d think that their trip with Hilda was little more than an afternoon dream. Raka had rowed away, and as War had concentrated, pulling a World War II A-24 Banshee out of the air to replace the hippos. There had been a scream off in the distance after a short while, which they all understood to mean that Raka had found someone for Rijbka to eat, and then Death had spoken to Famine and the grass beneath his feet had turned black and died and a creeping chill had formed a thin layer of crackling ice at the edge of the reservoir. “News?” Pestilence was the first to speak. Scuffles was walking around the airplane making noises of appreciation and stroking the bullet-holes in the fuselage, and War was watching him with a paternal eye and slight aura of concern. Hilda had demanded that Pestilence pick her up again now that the hippos had departed and was curled up in the crook of his elbow pretending to sleep. “A job,” said Famine. He shivered and ice so fine it was like dust sparkled in the air around him. “Mercy has given Death some documents and he thinks there’s a trap. So I get to go and spring it. I’ll be back as soon as it’s done.” He looked at the Banshee. “Though I think I’m missing out, dudebros,” he said. “Who’s flying that thing?” “ME,” said War as Pestilence’s hand shot up, bumping Hilda and making her lift her head and glare at him with furnace-red eyes, and Scuffles started climbing into the pilot’s seat. “I’ll let you sort that out between you then,” said Famine. He grinned, already twisting the real world away from him, which had the effect of making it look as though the flesh was sloughing off his face like soft dough pulled downwards under gravity, leaving behind leathery brown sinew and dried red flesh over oddly-silvery bone. “Laters, gators.”
Death’s residence in the outer world was palatial. It looked like the Palace of Versailles, a long porticoed building that towered upwards until it cast everyone approaching the three-storey high entrance doors in shadows that chilled both the flesh and the spirit. In front of it was a wide river, turbulent with black water and white-capped waves, that was crossed by a single bridge and a single ferry-boat. Behind it, gardens that matches those of the Palace of Versailles down to the tiniest detail were laid out, and even from a distance Famine could make out the pale blue shades of the dead wandering around, lost in the verdant foliage. The sky was deep purple, cloudless, and the warmth of the sun was an almost physical pressure, but the closer you got to Death’s residence the colder you felt. Famine let himself be drawn to the Palace, ignoring the ferryman (who just sneered) and the bridge, passing through the air like a ghost, and then passing through the walls into the residence as though they were just memories in his mind. He and the other Horsemen could do this, but no other Incarnates were so privileged. “Tomfoolery!” snarled a tall, near-skeletal being as Famine approached. It had four arms, two on each side, and a prominent ribcage. Over its shoulders hung tatters of a white shirt and a black jacket, and its legs were similarly clad. Its knees bent backwards like a bird’s, and it moved with a shuffling hopping gait. “Demezen,” said Famine. Here in Death’s house his mind worked clearly and uninhibitedly. “How’s the office?” Four arms spread out, gesturing eloquently to encompass the entire domain. “Full,” said Demezen. It sounded like he had too many teeth in his mouth and was trying to spit them out. “People keep dying. It’s messy.” Famine nodded. “Would be messy if they stopped too,” he said. “But that wouldn’t be my problem, would it?” Famine forced a smile. “I’m off to the Library,” he said. “To see the new arrival.” “It’s on the desk,” said Demezen. “Don’t touch it though, there’s some kind of enchantment on it.”
Honestly, with an entire classroom filled with 6 and 7 year olds...when is tomfoolery not on the table! My favorite has arrived in the form of an adorable little man we will call Dave. Dave likes to shine his smile at me and then proceed to get himself in trouble on a daily basis. But his latest joke is to ask me how I am doing and ending his sentence with, "Grandma". He has decided that my glasses must make me old enough to be a grandma as I am the only teacher on the hall with glasses. So, daily I get the grandma jokes until last week I through him off his game, I wore my contacts. Grandma no more!
4 comments:
I hope this means that you had a good evening playing with the boys, and not that people at work were driving you to distraction :)
I've wandered over the character limit again, but I think you won't mind. At least, I hope you won't :)
Tomfoolery
The hippos were unsummoned, fading away back to wherever they’d been. Their memories would steadily fade too, over the course of the next eight hours, until they’d think that their trip with Hilda was little more than an afternoon dream. Raka had rowed away, and as War had concentrated, pulling a World War II A-24 Banshee out of the air to replace the hippos. There had been a scream off in the distance after a short while, which they all understood to mean that Raka had found someone for Rijbka to eat, and then Death had spoken to Famine and the grass beneath his feet had turned black and died and a creeping chill had formed a thin layer of crackling ice at the edge of the reservoir.
“News?” Pestilence was the first to speak. Scuffles was walking around the airplane making noises of appreciation and stroking the bullet-holes in the fuselage, and War was watching him with a paternal eye and slight aura of concern. Hilda had demanded that Pestilence pick her up again now that the hippos had departed and was curled up in the crook of his elbow pretending to sleep.
“A job,” said Famine. He shivered and ice so fine it was like dust sparkled in the air around him. “Mercy has given Death some documents and he thinks there’s a trap. So I get to go and spring it. I’ll be back as soon as it’s done.” He looked at the Banshee. “Though I think I’m missing out, dudebros,” he said. “Who’s flying that thing?”
“ME,” said War as Pestilence’s hand shot up, bumping Hilda and making her lift her head and glare at him with furnace-red eyes, and Scuffles started climbing into the pilot’s seat.
“I’ll let you sort that out between you then,” said Famine. He grinned, already twisting the real world away from him, which had the effect of making it look as though the flesh was sloughing off his face like soft dough pulled downwards under gravity, leaving behind leathery brown sinew and dried red flesh over oddly-silvery bone. “Laters, gators.”
Death’s residence in the outer world was palatial. It looked like the Palace of Versailles, a long porticoed building that towered upwards until it cast everyone approaching the three-storey high entrance doors in shadows that chilled both the flesh and the spirit. In front of it was a wide river, turbulent with black water and white-capped waves, that was crossed by a single bridge and a single ferry-boat. Behind it, gardens that matches those of the Palace of Versailles down to the tiniest detail were laid out, and even from a distance Famine could make out the pale blue shades of the dead wandering around, lost in the verdant foliage. The sky was deep purple, cloudless, and the warmth of the sun was an almost physical pressure, but the closer you got to Death’s residence the colder you felt. Famine let himself be drawn to the Palace, ignoring the ferryman (who just sneered) and the bridge, passing through the air like a ghost, and then passing through the walls into the residence as though they were just memories in his mind. He and the other Horsemen could do this, but no other Incarnates were so privileged.
“Tomfoolery!” snarled a tall, near-skeletal being as Famine approached. It had four arms, two on each side, and a prominent ribcage. Over its shoulders hung tatters of a white shirt and a black jacket, and its legs were similarly clad. Its knees bent backwards like a bird’s, and it moved with a shuffling hopping gait.
“Demezen,” said Famine. Here in Death’s house his mind worked clearly and uninhibitedly. “How’s the office?”
Four arms spread out, gesturing eloquently to encompass the entire domain. “Full,” said Demezen. It sounded like he had too many teeth in his mouth and was trying to spit them out. “People keep dying. It’s messy.”
Famine nodded. “Would be messy if they stopped too,” he said.
“But that wouldn’t be my problem, would it?”
Famine forced a smile. “I’m off to the Library,” he said. “To see the new arrival.”
“It’s on the desk,” said Demezen. “Don’t touch it though, there’s some kind of enchantment on it.”
Honestly, with an entire classroom filled with 6 and 7 year olds...when is tomfoolery not on the table! My favorite has arrived in the form of an adorable little man we will call Dave. Dave likes to shine his smile at me and then proceed to get himself in trouble on a daily basis. But his latest joke is to ask me how I am doing and ending his sentence with, "Grandma". He has decided that my glasses must make me old enough to be a grandma as I am the only teacher on the hall with glasses. So, daily I get the grandma jokes until last week I through him off his game, I wore my contacts. Grandma no more!
Jerri Howard
Greg - no, I just like the word and was pleased to discover i hadn't used it as a prompt before :)
Enjoyed these transitions. Excited by the arrival of the plane. Curious to see what awaits Famine in the library.
Kim - haha, that's lovely. Thank you for sharing this :)
Post a Comment