Redsonga
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- Joined
- Feb 7, 2008
- Messages
- 4,167
- Reaction score
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He asked me on a date.
The storyteller sat in the glow of her bedroom lamp, its' central candle ,bathing the small space with a golden glow that matched her sunny mood.
..A mood that, at the moment, her age old habit of talking to herself was trying to undo tirelessly bit by bit.
Why wouldn't he have?
Harriet paused, replacing her quill into its' small gourd of ink and a shutting the book she had been writing in.
Well...no one ever has before..in my whole life.
She sighed, lifting the large volume to the top of a nearby pile that represented her lifes' work, where it wobbled dangerously before settling down.
What about your date for the end of month school?
That was cousin Clark. The one with the twitch that saw invisible spiders remember?
The storyteller sat back down in a huff, blowing a stray piece of hair out of her eyes as she looked into her tall magic mirror.
Oh...
None of that matters now..Fredrick is perfect...Fredrick is perfect and he wants me..He makes me feel...pretty.
She reached for her brush and hair ribbons, that like most of the items that had anything to do with her appearance had long ago taken on a lite mask of dust.
Is he perfect?
Of course he is, he can be anything I want him to be and knows me even better than..better than...
The small yellow fraggle paused mid-brush to glance upward at the painting above her head, the one of a brave young explorer posing heroically..the one she had made the day of his job choosing...
If that is perfect love why do you still think about...?
The room was filled with a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob as the only truly living creature within it finally spoke aloud to no one.
"Only forty years old and already an old fool..."
The gold colored head built into the top molding of the magic mirror shook off the edge of sleep, beganing to hum as the storytellers' low voice rose to meet it.
Lately when I'm in my room all by myself... in the solitary gloom I call to myself...
A pair of bookworms stopped their chewing near the fraggles' elbow, rearing up to add another layer if humming to the song as she went back to brushing her hair.
Hey there, you with the stars in your eyes,
love never made a fool of you, you use to be too wise.
She pulled her hair up, fastening it with a fancy clip before shaking it out into a messy pile of fuzz again, stopping to gaze with wide eyes at the painting.
Hey there, you on that high flying cloud,
Though he won't throw a crumb to you, you think one day he'll come to you...
She took the painting from its' wall hook, hugging it tightly as she began to spin in lazy dance like circles in the small room.
Better forget him, him with his nose in the air,
He has you dancing on a string, brake it and he won't care...
She gave the painting a last tight hug before replacing it on the wall, tracing it's outline with a finger slowly.
Will you take this advice, I give to you like a mother?
Or am I not getting through too clear?
Am I too much in love to hear?
Is it all going in one ear and out the other?
Harriet sat back down at her desk with a thump, burying her head in her arms when the face of her magic mirror head began to join in.
Hey there, you with the stars in your eyes?
She peeped out of her fingers meekly.
"Are you talking to me?"
The mirror nodded.
Love never made a fool of you...
She sighed, reaching for the fancy hair-clip again.
"Not untill now..."
You use to be too wise. The mirror finished.
"Yes, I was once..."
The storyteller agreed, fiddling with the clips' clasp with hands that were starting to tremble slightly as she picked up the song again.
Will you take this advice I give to you like a mother?
Or are you not seeing things too clear?
Am I just too far gone to hear?
She fixed herself with a serious stare in the mirror as she twisted her hair upward again, draping her best robe with a necklace of tiny pearls that caught the candlelight.
Is it all going in one ear and out the other?
The storyteller sat in the glow of her bedroom lamp, its' central candle ,bathing the small space with a golden glow that matched her sunny mood.
..A mood that, at the moment, her age old habit of talking to herself was trying to undo tirelessly bit by bit.
Why wouldn't he have?
Harriet paused, replacing her quill into its' small gourd of ink and a shutting the book she had been writing in.
Well...no one ever has before..in my whole life.
She sighed, lifting the large volume to the top of a nearby pile that represented her lifes' work, where it wobbled dangerously before settling down.
What about your date for the end of month school?
That was cousin Clark. The one with the twitch that saw invisible spiders remember?
The storyteller sat back down in a huff, blowing a stray piece of hair out of her eyes as she looked into her tall magic mirror.
Oh...
None of that matters now..Fredrick is perfect...Fredrick is perfect and he wants me..He makes me feel...pretty.
She reached for her brush and hair ribbons, that like most of the items that had anything to do with her appearance had long ago taken on a lite mask of dust.
Is he perfect?
Of course he is, he can be anything I want him to be and knows me even better than..better than...
The small yellow fraggle paused mid-brush to glance upward at the painting above her head, the one of a brave young explorer posing heroically..the one she had made the day of his job choosing...
If that is perfect love why do you still think about...?
The room was filled with a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob as the only truly living creature within it finally spoke aloud to no one.
"Only forty years old and already an old fool..."
The gold colored head built into the top molding of the magic mirror shook off the edge of sleep, beganing to hum as the storytellers' low voice rose to meet it.
Lately when I'm in my room all by myself... in the solitary gloom I call to myself...
A pair of bookworms stopped their chewing near the fraggles' elbow, rearing up to add another layer if humming to the song as she went back to brushing her hair.
Hey there, you with the stars in your eyes,
love never made a fool of you, you use to be too wise.
She pulled her hair up, fastening it with a fancy clip before shaking it out into a messy pile of fuzz again, stopping to gaze with wide eyes at the painting.
Hey there, you on that high flying cloud,
Though he won't throw a crumb to you, you think one day he'll come to you...
She took the painting from its' wall hook, hugging it tightly as she began to spin in lazy dance like circles in the small room.
Better forget him, him with his nose in the air,
He has you dancing on a string, brake it and he won't care...
She gave the painting a last tight hug before replacing it on the wall, tracing it's outline with a finger slowly.
Will you take this advice, I give to you like a mother?
Or am I not getting through too clear?
Am I too much in love to hear?
Is it all going in one ear and out the other?
Harriet sat back down at her desk with a thump, burying her head in her arms when the face of her magic mirror head began to join in.
Hey there, you with the stars in your eyes?
She peeped out of her fingers meekly.
"Are you talking to me?"
The mirror nodded.
Love never made a fool of you...
She sighed, reaching for the fancy hair-clip again.
"Not untill now..."
You use to be too wise. The mirror finished.
"Yes, I was once..."
The storyteller agreed, fiddling with the clips' clasp with hands that were starting to tremble slightly as she picked up the song again.
Will you take this advice I give to you like a mother?
Or are you not seeing things too clear?
Am I just too far gone to hear?
She fixed herself with a serious stare in the mirror as she twisted her hair upward again, draping her best robe with a necklace of tiny pearls that caught the candlelight.
Is it all going in one ear and out the other?