We don't go at it alone. You don't walk home. You don't stay out late. You don't disobey the laws, the rules, the iron fist of your Father.
And this isn't the way it works.
Footsteps don't come up on you. They don't hail from nowhere, they don't go everywhere. They obey the rules of logic, litany, gravity.
Until the very end, until tomorrow, that perfect sunset that turns the sky golden blush, like new maidens. That's gravity. There until the end.
But gravity doesn't work this way. You can only walk for so long, when there's something behind you. Something vast, endless, that blots out that perfect sunset, that turns the sky dark. Something that smells like the good topsoil his father's plow turned up; something dank and earthy, like rot. Good corn came out of that soil.
This wasn't the way the world worked, and for the first time in his life, he'd wished he'd listened to his parents. He wished he'd stayed home and not slipped out his window in the middle of the night. He wished--
Dominos fall
so slow
onto wood.
Clack. clack CLACK
Fingers curled around his ankle and like a horse out of the racing shoot, he was gone, tearing down the dirt road in the middle of the night, like he had Hell's hounds on him.
With great slowness, Bylah drew himself up out of the mud, dripping off of him like honey off the comb - though a great deal of it stuck to him, making his fur stand out in jagged, ragged spikes. The fires of his eyes watched the quickly retreating form..before he snorted, quietly.
Boy shouldn't be out this late. Life just doesn't work that way.
He sure is.
The perspective is amazing,
I wish to eat your talent for dinner >(
He's so filthy that he's
this is full of win
That's not the way this
He told himself that, over and over again.
That's not the way this works.
Litany, a cosmic karma mantra.
That's not the way this works.
We don't go at it alone. You don't walk home. You don't stay out late. You don't disobey the laws, the rules, the iron fist of your Father.
And this isn't the way it works.
Footsteps don't come up on you. They don't hail from nowhere, they don't go everywhere. They obey the rules of logic, litany, gravity.
Until the very end, until tomorrow, that perfect sunset that turns the sky golden blush, like new maidens. That's gravity. There until the end.
But gravity doesn't work this way. You can only walk for so long, when there's something behind you. Something vast, endless, that blots out that perfect sunset, that turns the sky dark. Something that smells like the good topsoil his father's plow turned up; something dank and earthy, like rot. Good corn came out of that soil.
This wasn't the way the world worked, and for the first time in his life, he'd wished he'd listened to his parents. He wished he'd stayed home and not slipped out his window in the middle of the night. He wished--
Dominos fall
so slow
onto wood.
Clack.
clack
CLACK
Fingers curled around his ankle and like a horse out of the racing shoot, he was gone, tearing down the dirt road in the middle of the night, like he had Hell's hounds on him.
With great slowness, Bylah drew himself up out of the mud, dripping off of him like honey off the comb - though a great deal of it stuck to him, making his fur stand out in jagged, ragged spikes. The fires of his eyes watched the quickly retreating form..before he snorted, quietly.
Boy shouldn't be out this late. Life just doesn't work that way.
Mffffhhhhhffhhhhfh...
III
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