02-09-2017, 09:31 PM
Atrani
Rhonen’s touch is gentle. Father’s is rough.
His voice is gentle. Father’s is grating.
He is inviting. Father is frightening.
A breath catches in her throat, thickening the lining until she has a lump forming. She doesn’t need eyes to sense the tension and to taste the ferocity that is swirling in the air around them. It permeates through her skin and suddenly her body quivers, not with fear, but with uncertainty. Atrani has no real fear of this black, unseen world, but she finds herself worried for Rhonen. Father can be cruel, but he can also be so loving – so possessive – to a fault. ”Don’t hurt him, daddy,” she pleas, but it’s late slipping from her mouth. Suddenly father has jerked away from her. There is a coldness where he abandoned her side, but he quickly returns after she hears the shuffling of hooves and bodies. Blindly, she rotates her head so that her ears may better drink in the noises, but it ends just as quickly as it began.
Father is leaning against her again, holding her, warming that chilled area he had abandoned. She knows it’s him because of his touch – so rough, so forceful – and finds her thoughts reaching out to wonder what Rhonen’s embrace would be like. But no, father wouldn’t allow that. Not now, not ever.
”Rhonen,” she enjoys the way his name rolls off her tongue and how it sends a child down the length of her spine. ”I hope you’re right,” because she wants to be beautiful; she doesn’t want to be the monster that she envisions herself to be. Grotesque, blind, scrawny (all due to her malnutrition now). Those are the few select adjectives she has chosen for herself, and so, to hear the term pretty directed toward her elates her.
A smile curves her small lips and her brows raise as she tries desperately to imagine where Rhonen is and what he looks like. ”I don’t want to go,” she affirms to both males while stepping away from father’s comfort and reassurance. She wanders to no one, instead slipping away from both of them until she takes pause and glances over her shoulder to where they may be. ”Please no fighting,” but it is too late, ”this world is bitter enough without fighting over a little creature like me.”
Because no matter how sweet Rhonen is, and how much she wants to believe she’s pretty, the eyeless image of herself is nothing short of horrifying.
His voice is gentle. Father’s is grating.
He is inviting. Father is frightening.
A breath catches in her throat, thickening the lining until she has a lump forming. She doesn’t need eyes to sense the tension and to taste the ferocity that is swirling in the air around them. It permeates through her skin and suddenly her body quivers, not with fear, but with uncertainty. Atrani has no real fear of this black, unseen world, but she finds herself worried for Rhonen. Father can be cruel, but he can also be so loving – so possessive – to a fault. ”Don’t hurt him, daddy,” she pleas, but it’s late slipping from her mouth. Suddenly father has jerked away from her. There is a coldness where he abandoned her side, but he quickly returns after she hears the shuffling of hooves and bodies. Blindly, she rotates her head so that her ears may better drink in the noises, but it ends just as quickly as it began.
Father is leaning against her again, holding her, warming that chilled area he had abandoned. She knows it’s him because of his touch – so rough, so forceful – and finds her thoughts reaching out to wonder what Rhonen’s embrace would be like. But no, father wouldn’t allow that. Not now, not ever.
”Rhonen,” she enjoys the way his name rolls off her tongue and how it sends a child down the length of her spine. ”I hope you’re right,” because she wants to be beautiful; she doesn’t want to be the monster that she envisions herself to be. Grotesque, blind, scrawny (all due to her malnutrition now). Those are the few select adjectives she has chosen for herself, and so, to hear the term pretty directed toward her elates her.
A smile curves her small lips and her brows raise as she tries desperately to imagine where Rhonen is and what he looks like. ”I don’t want to go,” she affirms to both males while stepping away from father’s comfort and reassurance. She wanders to no one, instead slipping away from both of them until she takes pause and glances over her shoulder to where they may be. ”Please no fighting,” but it is too late, ”this world is bitter enough without fighting over a little creature like me.”
Because no matter how sweet Rhonen is, and how much she wants to believe she’s pretty, the eyeless image of herself is nothing short of horrifying.
dove into her eyes and starved all the fears
picture by haenuli shin- HTML by Call - words: ________
[Image: callwolf_zpsasro4cel.png]