Re: Mini-Grand 5106 [Round 2: The Graben]
09-03-2011, 03:58 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by XX.
ghosts don’t laugh
but this one does.
she is the ghost in winter, Winter’s ghost, she is stronger and faster than all of them and she spears the mice on her long long fangs, yesssss, and she flies when she hunts and no one escapes her now. she is swift and silent and Silent and no one will flee from her now, no, there is no use running from her, not now, not ever, she’ll find you and she’ll tear you to little bits for trying. he tried, the dead mouse, he squeaked and squeaked. squeak all you want, little mouse
I am the ghost that killed Death.
this ghost is in the trees, thick and green, they are not her trees. her trees are white and whiter still with the Silent webs and the spiders with their watching-eyes and their hunting-dance. tarantella! dance dance dance, spiders and mice! the mice could not make her dance. ghosts don’t dance and ghosts don’t laugh but she is no mere ghost, now, she is Death’s death, she is a white ghost death on white ghost wings
she hunts in the green forest.
death is a white ghost, laughing
death is the tarantella
______________
The High Chieftain of the Tribe of the Red Spider watched Naiima pass with a grin on his scarred face.
He was hidden high up in the branches of the largest tree on this side of the forest, clay-and-reed huts clinging to its ancient trunk like fat caterpillars. His own nut-brown skin was almost indistinguishable from the bark he rested his back against; if he stayed perfectly still, he could have blended in and become one with the forest as the Great Spider had decreed when he first formed Man from the fibers of his web. The crown of the Chieftain’s headdress was adorned with such webs, along with a number of their living inhabitants. It was the worst kind of sacrilege to displace one of the Spider’s children. No one in his tribe would even dare to think of such a thing. Even laying eyes on an arachnid was a lucky thing; harming one was a fast route to the eternal wrath of a vengeful god.
What was he to make, then, of a giant arachnid appearing in the forest just as his tribe’s war with their heathen neighbors was reaching its peak?
The Chieftain’s smile grew wider as he swung down from his perch with the nimbleness of a jungle cat and landed firmly in the spider’s path. The Great Spider was a kind god indeed, he thought, and swept a bow before the best of all omens.
___________
!!mouse
this ghost was careless, yes, she was laughing and the mouse surprised her. skinny mouse, quick mouse, more like a cat than the child of mice, yes. little cat. little cat-mouse with a hat full of webs. lazy cat, she thinks, to let a web catch on his head. perhaps not a threat for the death-of-Death but she rears up all the same to show her mouse-killer fangs
and the cat bows.
the ghost will speak with this cat, then.
a cat is no threat to a ghost, there are cats in her forest but they are skinny and big and have red spots on their heads. the Silent have no quarrel with cats and so she has none with this one, though it says strange things. a spider, a Spider, a sign. what use have ghosts for signs? but the cat is convinced. the cat purrs, sleek cat, sure cat, she had forgotten that cats always know when they win. the cats lifts a paw to its den in the trees (bad ghost, lazy ghost, should have seen, should have noticed) and there are more cats there, and kittens. the ghost is good, he says. the cats will conquer.
the ghost is quiet until now and the cat’s face is bright with surprise. he did not know this ghost could speak, he did not expect this ghost to laugh. good spider, good Spider, good signs. all good. he asks the ghost what she says, what she has been told from her web
the ghost remembers. squeaking mice, remember Winter? poor winter, poor Winter.
poor Death.
find the mice, she tells that cat. kill the mice that sing. you are good at this
and the cat is very happy to agree.
ghosts don’t laugh
but this one does.
she is the ghost in winter, Winter’s ghost, she is stronger and faster than all of them and she spears the mice on her long long fangs, yesssss, and she flies when she hunts and no one escapes her now. she is swift and silent and Silent and no one will flee from her now, no, there is no use running from her, not now, not ever, she’ll find you and she’ll tear you to little bits for trying. he tried, the dead mouse, he squeaked and squeaked. squeak all you want, little mouse
I am the ghost that killed Death.
this ghost is in the trees, thick and green, they are not her trees. her trees are white and whiter still with the Silent webs and the spiders with their watching-eyes and their hunting-dance. tarantella! dance dance dance, spiders and mice! the mice could not make her dance. ghosts don’t dance and ghosts don’t laugh but she is no mere ghost, now, she is Death’s death, she is a white ghost death on white ghost wings
she hunts in the green forest.
death is a white ghost, laughing
death is the tarantella
______________
The High Chieftain of the Tribe of the Red Spider watched Naiima pass with a grin on his scarred face.
He was hidden high up in the branches of the largest tree on this side of the forest, clay-and-reed huts clinging to its ancient trunk like fat caterpillars. His own nut-brown skin was almost indistinguishable from the bark he rested his back against; if he stayed perfectly still, he could have blended in and become one with the forest as the Great Spider had decreed when he first formed Man from the fibers of his web. The crown of the Chieftain’s headdress was adorned with such webs, along with a number of their living inhabitants. It was the worst kind of sacrilege to displace one of the Spider’s children. No one in his tribe would even dare to think of such a thing. Even laying eyes on an arachnid was a lucky thing; harming one was a fast route to the eternal wrath of a vengeful god.
What was he to make, then, of a giant arachnid appearing in the forest just as his tribe’s war with their heathen neighbors was reaching its peak?
The Chieftain’s smile grew wider as he swung down from his perch with the nimbleness of a jungle cat and landed firmly in the spider’s path. The Great Spider was a kind god indeed, he thought, and swept a bow before the best of all omens.
___________
!!mouse
this ghost was careless, yes, she was laughing and the mouse surprised her. skinny mouse, quick mouse, more like a cat than the child of mice, yes. little cat. little cat-mouse with a hat full of webs. lazy cat, she thinks, to let a web catch on his head. perhaps not a threat for the death-of-Death but she rears up all the same to show her mouse-killer fangs
and the cat bows.
the ghost will speak with this cat, then.
a cat is no threat to a ghost, there are cats in her forest but they are skinny and big and have red spots on their heads. the Silent have no quarrel with cats and so she has none with this one, though it says strange things. a spider, a Spider, a sign. what use have ghosts for signs? but the cat is convinced. the cat purrs, sleek cat, sure cat, she had forgotten that cats always know when they win. the cats lifts a paw to its den in the trees (bad ghost, lazy ghost, should have seen, should have noticed) and there are more cats there, and kittens. the ghost is good, he says. the cats will conquer.
the ghost is quiet until now and the cat’s face is bright with surprise. he did not know this ghost could speak, he did not expect this ghost to laugh. good spider, good Spider, good signs. all good. he asks the ghost what she says, what she has been told from her web
the ghost remembers. squeaking mice, remember Winter? poor winter, poor Winter.
poor Death.
find the mice, she tells that cat. kill the mice that sing. you are good at this
and the cat is very happy to agree.