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01/23/2021
Jo13579
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Jo13579
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A restful abduction
A dull, stale afternoon. The rain has washed out all energy from it. Not a rain that brings life, that is fragrant and washes away only the inessential. A cowardly rain that does not speak, but has washed away the contours of being to a pale outlined inertia. In such an afternoon our worthy Tagonist, for sympathy to himself rather prositively portrayed than unsympathetically antagonistic, finds himself caught. As he, melancholy and resigned, is about to bid farewell to the day with the fifth chime of the bell, a small branch, broken off in the nearby woods, snaps him out of his half-sleep. He opens the window, and a young green bung jumps in. The young green bastard, a Numro who has escaped from the Nimrod, loyally crosses the room, banishes our protagonist with his forest magic, and pulls him into another world. The house and the streets disappear in the swathes that escape the lead-heavy ground after the downright charmless rain. The lethargic wet gives way to lush grass and lightly glowing chamomile, and Numro and I roll through damp lavender that the homely humidness has stripped of its dry herbaceousness. We lie on our backs, gazing up at the sky, watching the agruminal aura of the gentle sun flash through the clouds as the aromatic drops from the indument of sage run into our mouths. As we continue to careen down the meadow, the grasses grow sturdier and more tart, less caressed by stems of flowers than punctuated by trunks of mossy trees. As we crash hollow-headed against the trunks, they burst open, releasing a gush of golden, sweet resins that flow into our bodies like an electrifying current, galbanizing the bracing rushes of the ethers onto our skin. The logs have taken a few scrapes as well, and we scramble to our feet, only to sink back into the soft green bed of the forest, and fall asleep with cramped limbs in the smoky mist of the dawning forest. Our lovable protagonist is sure to open his eyes happily the next morning, even if his friend Numro was just a product of someone else's fantasies, and feast on coffee, Spüngran, and other chemicals for breakfast.
With dear thanks to Susan for the restorative hijack. My first encounter with a thoroughly green scent, and it will not have been the last - Great.
With dear thanks to Susan for the restorative hijack. My first encounter with a thoroughly green scent, and it will not have been the last - Great.
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