I want to gloat a little

karltown_veteran · 2019-05-20 02:57:09

I want to gloat, and I'm going to do it in the fanciest language possible.

O, in this past life of mine, a burden I did bear. 'Twas I that was borne into a torn town, whereupon birh a pale blue blood I did woo. She had golden curls and eyes like stars. As we sat by the fire, but babes, our hearts fluttered above our heads and our eyes locked. Although we must have both preferred it be our lips, such naive sprouts as we.

Her golden hair crawled down her waist, and so I hitched up my own hair and was sent off by my mother. I burnt my hands on scalding pies by day, by night I was a dancer and I danced among the garden beds, painting the roses with water. And when they bloomed I plucked one for my love, for I knew she would forever be mine own.

Alas and alack, our love was pruned and yanked before it bloomed. My brother with his bow came rushing, seeking to make us bleed like horses bitten by a snake. With all that I had I fought him, and his yew bow clattered to the ground. I rushed at him. With passion in mine eyes and fury in mine heart, the arrow flew and tore his soul apart. It was then I knew that I could not stay too long, in this broken little clay town.

I kissed my love goodbye, and stole a horse. I rode away, listening to the wind chimes, pulling me westward. A bell, gold and brimming with opportunity. Of course I did not think of golden bells, I did weep only for my love's fine golden hair, a crown upon a queen.

I heard the wind chimes getting louder and my horse suddenly stopped. I heard a man whistling. 'Twas he that was co'ered in dust and charcoal, toiling at the forge. I hitched my horse and ambled over, and our eyes locked. We knew not of each other's tongue but when he whispered "ena" my cheeks pinked like ripening grapes, and his followed suit obediently. Of course I would have children, as it was impossible to resist the curl of his beard and the shimmer of his eyes.

Many children were borne by a fire, and I used them to mark the years passing. My hands grew coarse with work as my children ambled thru the town, free and happy and not yet knowledgeable of how it felt to lose a love. I knew not what had become of the auburn beard, nor the golden hair. I thought of home sometimes, when I had a chance to catch my breath.

Time passed. My hair turned grey and was pinned back in a bun. Grandchildren began popping up like butterflies, and eating like vultures. I became so dedicated to my duties, for duties have a way of distracting thy heart that is useful in such situations as I was in.

Lines folded into my skin, each line another memory. In my final years I sought to pour each line upon my grandchildren, my blood and flesh, bestow upon their souls a fragment of mine own.. but it was too much, and not enough time, and each grain of sand could have stored a thousand words if only I knew what to say.

I went for wood to light the fire, but my old sandpaper hands had toiled for far too many a grain of sand. I slipped and fell down dead at my daughter's feet. And in my final moments as my breath slipped from her throat, I imagined her horror at having to clean me up, bone by bone.

But I knew that I would die happy, for I had restored the bell town. It was vibrant and blooming, shiny and golden.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whoot whoot! My line has been kept alive for 18 generations and still going on strong, a while after everyone in my old town died!
That's it. I just wanted to gloat about how I created a bustling town. That's what this whole monologue lead up to.
I was Tiara
Edit: I guess I shouldn't have rung the bell so much. These darned Eves keep showing up and killing my great great great great great gr... grandkids.
http://lineage.onehouronelife.com/serve … id=4522476

Last edited by karltown_veteran (2019-05-20 02:59:40)

Solbusaur · 2019-05-20 14:14:41

That was so beautiful and deep, ;(

ThatGuyWhoDoesThings · 2019-05-21 09:33:41

yond wast valorous, very much valorous. i did cry at which hour i readeth it

karltown_veteran · 2019-05-21 22:06:34

ThatGuyWhoDoesThings wrote:

yond wast valorous, very much valorous. i did cry at which hour i readeth it

Why, I thanketh thee kindly, kind gentleman. I tippeth my hat to thee.

One Hour One Life Forums

#1 2019-05-20 02:57:09

I want to gloat a little

#2 2019-05-20 14:14:41

Re: I want to gloat a little

#3 2019-05-21 09:33:41

Re: I want to gloat a little

#4 2019-05-21 22:06:34

Re: I want to gloat a little

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