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-   -   A small world... (three or four sentences at a time) (http://www.zefrank.com/bulletin_new/showthread.php?t=1050)

masterofNone 02-08-2003 09:51 PM

A small world... (three or four sentences at a time)
 
(inspired by elements of DaDa Too)

There, beneath the mattress and bedsprings discarded by the farmer, lay the whole of Wingnut's world. Rich powdery soil provided a fine and fertile environment for beetles and worms, rollie pollies and stink bugs. Today Wingnut could look down on it from high above the mattress on the wings of his very first flivver. His father circled nearby atop his own dragonfly, eyeing Wingnut with cautious pride.

voxpop 02-09-2003 01:09 PM

Fibrous elements, intermingled threads of spore dust, damp and sore, made the going tricky for wingnut. unusually bright air, repeatedly harsh sun, all were elements to contend with. father smiled.

amanda 02-10-2003 12:29 PM

Flash of sunlit emeralds and wing dust, Wingnut holds fast. Warm air lifts created in valleys between molehills, soaring high above blades of green and oceans of prismed mud.

Wingnut closes his eyes. Wind creates tears, wipes them away in the same instant.

masterofNone 02-10-2003 03:50 PM

In the distance, far to the south, Wingnut could just make out his friend Waxbean and his father practicing on their dragonflies as well. Waxbean had been in flight school for two months and was only just now preparing for his examination. Wingnut smiled at the thought of his slow witted but loveably persistant companion.

noxxville 02-10-2003 08:21 PM

Waxbean could feel wingnut's eyes on him. All of them. It felt coldy charming an a wingnut way.

voxpop 02-11-2003 01:25 AM

is there ever a moment, wonders wingnut, when large thinks are thought small? stretched against the currents, this flight takes me so high. but not nearly as high as the mountain of moss.

1kookykat 02-11-2003 01:51 AM

Nearby, hidden behind a clump of Nurkle-nernie plants, Gribbet the Warted watched them with keen intensity. He licked his toad lips stickily with his long gooey tongue. Waxbean was dipping and wobbling unsteadily. Gribbet started to chortle a croaky chortle, but caught himself in time.

voxpop 02-11-2003 09:46 AM

Sensing impending danger, Waxbean gathered the momentum needed to steady himself. Delicate balance, this, thought Waxbean. Need to be on my game!

masterofNone 02-11-2003 04:10 PM

Wingnut's father whistled sharply and cocked his head toward the horizon. His flivver was drying and he beckoned his son to dip over the next hill with him to the stream fed pond. Wingnut pulled gently on the fiber strap and his dragonfly responded by beginning a slow bank to the right. In moments father and son were flying side by side across the meadow at a satisfying clip.

Sri Rama 03-04-2003 11:46 AM

As they quivered away into the blushing shafts of sunlight oozing tentatively through the leaves of the Nurkle-nernies, Gribbet the Warted glared balefully at the scrumptious duo. So fervent was his gaze that he failed to notice the legion of fire ants steadily approaching his dripping tongue. Urging his troops onward, Captain Antsger raised his chelicerae and uttered the following battle cry:

masterofNone 03-08-2003 12:06 AM

"Snick-nick-nits-snit!"

In an instant the ground was a torrent of shiney red torsos seething toward Gribbet. Waxbean, concentrating madly on maintaining a two point hover, was thrown sideways as the corpulant toad body rocketed past him in a great ant trailing arc.

Sri Rama 03-13-2003 07:22 PM

Helpless and shocked, Waxbean's father could only look on as the chubby amphibian shot past. Gribbet boomeranged off a Nurkle-nernie branch, hit the ground, and bounced past Wingnut, spraying ants far and wide like a vengeful ex-wife hurling confetti at a wedding.

masterofNone 04-22-2003 11:28 PM

With strength and grace, Wingnut's father eased the flivver to the water's edge and let it hover. The air was still beneath the cat tails and a thin film of pollen lay on the mirror surface of the pond. His father reached down and splashed a clear spot so that the dragonfly would lower it's mouth tube and begin to drink. Wingnut's ride slowly dropped to their side.

Guido 06-29-2003 11:29 PM

There, beneath the mattress and bedsprings discarded by the farmer, lay the whole of Wingnut's world. Rich powdery soil provided a fine and fertile environment for beetles and worms, rollie pollies and stink bugs. Today Wingnut could look down on it from high above the mattress on the wings of his very first flivver. His father circled nearby atop his own dragonfly, eyeing Wingnut with cautious pride.

Fibrous elements, intermingled threads of spore dust, damp and sore, made the going tricky for wingnut. unusually bright air, repeatedly harsh sun, all were elements to contend with. father smiled.

Flash of sunlit emeralds and wing dust, Wingnut holds fast. Warm air lifts created in valleys between molehills, soaring high above blades of green and oceans of prismed mud.

Wingnut closes his eyes. Wind creates tears, wipes them away in the same instant.

In the distance, far to the south, Wingnut could just make out his friend Waxbean and his father practicing on their dragonflies as well. Waxbean had been in flight school for two months and was only just now preparing for his examination. Wingnut smiled at the thought of his slow witted but loveably persistant companion.

Waxbean could feel Wingnut's eyes on him. All of them. It felt coldy charming an a Wingnut way.

Is there ever a moment, wonders Wingnut, when large things are thought small? Stretched against the currents, this flight takes me so high, but not nearly as high as the mountain of moss.

Nearby, hidden behind a clump of Nurkle-nernie plants, Gribbet the Warted watched them with keen intensity. He licked his toad lips stickily with his long, gooey tongue. Waxbean was dipping and wobbling unsteadily. Gribbet started to chortle a croaky chortle, but caught himself.

Sensing impending danger, Waxbean gathered the momentum needed to steady himself. Delicate balance, this, thought Waxbean. Need to be on my game!

Wingnut's father whistled sharply and cocked his head toward the horizon. His flivver was drying and he beckoned his son to dip over the next hill with him to the stream fed pond. Wingnut pulled gently on the fiber strap and his dragonfly responded by beginning a slow bank to the right. In moments father and son were flying side by side across the meadow at a satisfying clip.

As they quivered away into the blushing shafts of sunlight oozing tentatively through the leaves of the Nurkle-nernies, Gribbet the Warted glared balefully at the scrumptious duo. So fervent was his gaze that he failed to notice the legion of fire ants steadily approaching his dripping tongue. Urging his troops onward, Captain Antsger raised his chelicerae and uttered the following battle cry:

"Snick-nick-nits-snit!"

In an instant the ground was a torrent of shiney red torsos seething toward Gribbet. Waxbean, concentrating madly on maintaining a two point hover, was thrown sideways as the corpulant toad body rocketed past him in a great ant-trailing arc.

Helpless and shocked, Waxbean's father could only look on as the chubby amphibian shot past. Gribbet boomeranged off a Nurkle-nernie branch, hit the ground, and bounced past Wingnut, spraying ants far and wide like a vengeful ex-wife hurling confetti at a wedding.

With strength and grace, Wingnut's father eased the flivver to the water's edge and let it hover. The air was still beneath the cat tails and a thin film of pollen lay on the mirror surface of the pond. His father reached down and splashed a clear spot so that the dragonfly would lower it's mouth tube and begin to drink. Wingnut's ride slowly dropped to their side.

"Mr. Gribbet seems to be up to no good once again, father," said Wingnut, "He has brought troubles to our land since I was wee. Do you know from what land he came?"

Gareon 07-22-2003 09:53 PM

There, beneath the mattress and bedsprings discarded by the farmer, lay the whole of Wingnut's world. Rich powdery soil provided a fine and fertile environment for beetles and worms, rollie pollies and stink bugs. Today Wingnut could look down on it from high above the mattress on the wings of his very first flivver. His father circled nearby atop his own dragonfly, eyeing Wingnut with cautious pride.

Fibrous elements, intermingled threads of spore dust, damp and sore, made the going tricky for wingnut. unusually bright air, repeatedly harsh sun, all were elements to contend with. father smiled.

Flash of sunlit emeralds and wing dust, Wingnut holds fast. Warm air lifts created in valleys between molehills, soaring high above blades of green and oceans of prismed mud.

Wingnut closes his eyes. Wind creates tears, wipes them away in the same instant.

In the distance, far to the south, Wingnut could just make out his friend Waxbean and his father practicing on their dragonflies as well. Waxbean had been in flight school for two months and was only just now preparing for his examination. Wingnut smiled at the thought of his slow witted but loveably persistant companion.

Waxbean could feel Wingnut's eyes on him. All of them. It felt coldy charming an a Wingnut way.

Is there ever a moment, wonders Wingnut, when large things are thought small? Stretched against the currents, this flight takes me so high, but not nearly as high as the mountain of moss.

Nearby, hidden behind a clump of Nurkle-nernie plants, Gribbet the Warted watched them with keen intensity. He licked his toad lips stickily with his long, gooey tongue. Waxbean was dipping and wobbling unsteadily. Gribbet started to chortle a croaky chortle, but caught himself.

Sensing impending danger, Waxbean gathered the momentum needed to steady himself. Delicate balance, this, thought Waxbean. Need to be on my game!

Wingnut's father whistled sharply and cocked his head toward the horizon. His flivver was drying and he beckoned his son to dip over the next hill with him to the stream fed pond. Wingnut pulled gently on the fiber strap and his dragonfly responded by beginning a slow bank to the right. In moments father and son were flying side by side across the meadow at a satisfying clip.

As they quivered away into the blushing shafts of sunlight oozing tentatively through the leaves of the Nurkle-nernies, Gribbet the Warted glared balefully at the scrumptious duo. So fervent was his gaze that he failed to notice the legion of fire ants steadily approaching his dripping tongue. Urging his troops onward, Captain Antsger raised his chelicerae and uttered the following battle cry:

"Snick-nick-nits-snit!"

In an instant the ground was a torrent of shiney red torsos seething toward Gribbet. Waxbean, concentrating madly on maintaining a two point hover, was thrown sideways as the corpulant toad body rocketed past him in a great ant-trailing arc.

Helpless and shocked, Waxbean's father could only look on as the chubby amphibian shot past. Gribbet boomeranged off a Nurkle-nernie branch, hit the ground, and bounced past Wingnut, spraying ants far and wide like a vengeful ex-wife hurling confetti at a wedding.

With strength and grace, Wingnut's father eased the flivver to the water's edge and let it hover. The air was still beneath the cat tails and a thin film of pollen lay on the mirror surface of the pond. His father reached down and splashed a clear spot so that the dragonfly would lower it's mouth tube and begin to drink. Wingnut's ride slowly dropped to their side.

"Mr. Gribbet seems to be up to no good once again, father," said Wingnut, "He has brought troubles to our land since I was wee. Do you know from what land he came?"

His father looked away into the distance, beyond their current time and place, to a time long before, when moss mountains hadn't yet been cloven from the earth, when the Nurkle-nernie did not bow before the breeze; when darkness and void was all there was in what was now emerald-meadow. When Wingnut was about to wonder aloud whether the reverie would last much longer and tie up tea, his father finally replied.


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