Redsonga
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Feb 7, 2008
- Messages
- 4,167
- Reaction score
- 82
With a grunt of effort Boober lifted an old, worn, dirty looking length of ivory carpet up to drape it over a ridge of stalagmates, and began to thump it with a rug beater.
As he hit it he started to hum to the beat:
"A place for everything, and everything in its place"
A tiny troop of dusty looking bunnies appeared from under the carpet, giving an angry chatter before running out of the hole.
"That's what makes a home just so."
The bunnies made a sharp u-turn farther down the passageway, away from the telltale crashing sounds that told that Red to was cleaning in her own way.
"No one telling you what to do, having your own space…"
She wiped her brow after tossing barbells, books, and assorted swim-wear junk over her shoulder and into the closet in a flurry of movement.
"That's what makes home the place beee!"
Red shrieked seeing a leftover plate of something that use to be food sprout legs and walk bold as brass across the floor.
Boober paused lost in thought as the two sang in unison.
"At least that's what I use to think, but now I'm not so sure,"
Red flopped down exhausted into her hammock.
"..could home not be just a place, but a little more?
"Home might be feeling." Red sang softly, gazing at the letter.
"It might only be a wishful memory…" Boober added sadly.
"Could he be home to me?" She sang to the photo.
"Could she be home to me?" He asked the drawings upon the wall.
"Does he know… that he is home… to me?" Red ended the song, still with the letter in hand.
The last section was written very neatly and carefully.
"Red, I think about you everyday. I really miss you."
As he hit it he started to hum to the beat:
"A place for everything, and everything in its place"
A tiny troop of dusty looking bunnies appeared from under the carpet, giving an angry chatter before running out of the hole.
"That's what makes a home just so."
The bunnies made a sharp u-turn farther down the passageway, away from the telltale crashing sounds that told that Red to was cleaning in her own way.
"No one telling you what to do, having your own space…"
She wiped her brow after tossing barbells, books, and assorted swim-wear junk over her shoulder and into the closet in a flurry of movement.
"That's what makes home the place beee!"
Red shrieked seeing a leftover plate of something that use to be food sprout legs and walk bold as brass across the floor.
Boober paused lost in thought as the two sang in unison.
"At least that's what I use to think, but now I'm not so sure,"
Red flopped down exhausted into her hammock.
"..could home not be just a place, but a little more?
"Home might be feeling." Red sang softly, gazing at the letter.
"It might only be a wishful memory…" Boober added sadly.
"Could he be home to me?" She sang to the photo.
"Could she be home to me?" He asked the drawings upon the wall.
"Does he know… that he is home… to me?" Red ended the song, still with the letter in hand.
The last section was written very neatly and carefully.
"Red, I think about you everyday. I really miss you."