Time heals all wounds, is that what they say? Perhaps. Time may heal wounds, physical ones, he might agree to that. It however did not relieve the mind of them, one did not forget, not wholly. Time seemed to stand still here, back home, if this were ever really home. It was nothing compared to the swift passing of days when he had spent them in the company of a certain fairy godfather, warm and content by a fire. Time was idle now, inching past the minutes of the hours but only just. It felt like an eternity to Fart, it felt like always and he was certain he was doomed to feel as this forever.
Perhaps that is why he could not keep himself from the common lands, the grazing areas where others clustered in groups while he watched from the sidelines. Never too close, just out of reach and certainly downwind.
For a long time he had not known the meaning of company or the joys of it, now he found it was something he longed for. Just as well it didn’t last, Fart wasn’t accustomed to the exclusivity of it, to the comfort in it. Once there had been hands, one’s that hurt when they touched, one’s that made pain. And while he could not paint the face of the pain maker he remembered that it had been, that he had felt it. Hands were not just for hurting though, they were for sweet touches, petting and they were accompanied by soft words. Hands could be kindness.
He missed kindness, feeling good about himself, feeling wanted and needed. That just wasn’t in the cards here, not yet but that didn’t keep him from thinking that it could be. Perhaps with time he could be kindness, soft words and touches. He could find the broken things, things unwanted or needed, he could need them, want them, and in return maybe he could get the same. It was a thought, an idea and one that was still quite out of his comfort zone. Broken things had to be sought, he had to search and that meant standing in crowded places- even if it were on the edge of them. That's when he saw her, sharp edges and talons.
Fart had always been different, always ugly and no one let him forget it. That’s why he notices her, her physical differences, the things that made her unique to the eye and perhaps (like himself) feared or unwanted. Shunned. Fart almost steps out from the borders, the front end of his limey green self moving forward before coming to an abrupt halt mid-motion. In that short stint of time he had thought better of it, became of unsure of himself within the blink of an eye and he looked up from his feet with uncertainty. His right foreleg that was raised, slowly lowered to the ground as he watched her approach the group of others just past himself.
Perhaps that is why he could not keep himself from the common lands, the grazing areas where others clustered in groups while he watched from the sidelines. Never too close, just out of reach and certainly downwind.
For a long time he had not known the meaning of company or the joys of it, now he found it was something he longed for. Just as well it didn’t last, Fart wasn’t accustomed to the exclusivity of it, to the comfort in it. Once there had been hands, one’s that hurt when they touched, one’s that made pain. And while he could not paint the face of the pain maker he remembered that it had been, that he had felt it. Hands were not just for hurting though, they were for sweet touches, petting and they were accompanied by soft words. Hands could be kindness.
He missed kindness, feeling good about himself, feeling wanted and needed. That just wasn’t in the cards here, not yet but that didn’t keep him from thinking that it could be. Perhaps with time he could be kindness, soft words and touches. He could find the broken things, things unwanted or needed, he could need them, want them, and in return maybe he could get the same. It was a thought, an idea and one that was still quite out of his comfort zone. Broken things had to be sought, he had to search and that meant standing in crowded places- even if it were on the edge of them. That's when he saw her, sharp edges and talons.
Fart had always been different, always ugly and no one let him forget it. That’s why he notices her, her physical differences, the things that made her unique to the eye and perhaps (like himself) feared or unwanted. Shunned. Fart almost steps out from the borders, the front end of his limey green self moving forward before coming to an abrupt halt mid-motion. In that short stint of time he had thought better of it, became of unsure of himself within the blink of an eye and he looked up from his feet with uncertainty. His right foreleg that was raised, slowly lowered to the ground as he watched her approach the group of others just past himself.
dont you know that youre toxic?
