"You Know, The Rain May Blow..."
Aug. 10th, 2005 12:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
psalm_onethirtyoneFreewrote with Nanni with the Westmark/Les Mis generator.
Time: Twenty minutes
Keyword: consume
Cosette wants to go somewhere. She wants to go walking. Her little garden is pretty, has always been pretty, has benches and roses and is tall and secret and cool, but it's little, and she's lonely. There are laughing people outside her gate, and she's only a girl, and she wants to go somewhere, go walking.
She can't go outside her gate; her gate is between her and the laughing people. Instead, she wanders inside her garden until she is quite lost, although it is only a little garden, and she turns around in circles as she looks at the sky, and wonders whether she shall ever find her way home. The sky could consume her. The world inside her little garden could hide her away from her father for-ever. She could never go home. She could live cloaked in secret roses and sleep on benches, and spend every day wandering further and getting more lost, and she believes she would never tire of walking. She's only a girl.
But the sky turns grey and blue and shaded, and from out of no where clouds turn grey and thick and trembling, and the wind picks up. Cosette turns around in circles as she looks at the sky, and wishes it were not quite so grey. The air is still suddenly, and hot.
She turns around and looks away from the sky and sees a man who isn't grey walking in the same world inside her little garden. She runs to him, her pretty little shoes thudding on the ground and kicking through leaves.
"Hello! Hello! Oh, please, do stop!"
She's only a girl.
The man who isn't grey turns. "Hello."
"I'm lost. I was in my garden, and I got lost. I don't want it to rain."
He smiles an odd smile, and she notices pockmarks on his nose. Pockmarks, to Cosette, come from illness. She wonders when he was ill. She wonders how it was. A girl was ill in the convent once. A girl would cry all through the night when she was ill, and her tears were hot, and her face was hot, and her dreams were hot and aching and sticky and all the same. Cosette wonders whether his dreams were all the same.
"Don't let it."
"But I don't know how to stop it." She trembles.
"Tell it to promenade off."
"Will that stop it?"
He smiles an odd smile, and his mouth quirks. He has a mouth made for smiling wryly. Cosette has never smiled wryly in her life. She does smile, though. She likes to smile. She doesn't remember that there were years when she didn't.
"You can only try."
She's only a girl. Cosette closes her eyes and whispers to the rain please to go to-day. To-day she is getting lost. To-day she is walking and wandering in her garden, because she cannot get away through her gate. Suddenly she feels him take her hands. The wind is picking up again, soft and kind to the sky. She opens her eyes.
"Good work, youngster."
Cosette wants to kiss him, wants to kiss his odd smile, but she's only a girl and she doesn't understand. She smiles. She likes to smile.
"Thank you! Oh, thank you!"
"Now walk home again. You'll worry somebody."
"All right," she whispers to the man. She turns around in circles until she faces back the way she came. She can't help looking over her shoulder, though, looking back at the man. He smiles an odd smile, and she notices pockmarks on his nose. She wonders if he cried all night, and whether his tears were hot. She can't help looking back, but he smiles, and she smiles too, and then she runs, back the way she came.
In a moment she is back in her little pretty garden, and there is a gate between her and the laughing people. Cosette laughs. Cosette spins around. She met somebody who smiled, and it is better than a thousand laughing people.
She stopped the rain.
She wanted to kiss him, but she doesn't understand.
She doesn't need a name. She laughs. She spins around. She sees his smile everywhere she looks, every time she looks at the cloudless sky.
Time: Twenty minutes
Keyword: consume
Cosette wants to go somewhere. She wants to go walking. Her little garden is pretty, has always been pretty, has benches and roses and is tall and secret and cool, but it's little, and she's lonely. There are laughing people outside her gate, and she's only a girl, and she wants to go somewhere, go walking.
She can't go outside her gate; her gate is between her and the laughing people. Instead, she wanders inside her garden until she is quite lost, although it is only a little garden, and she turns around in circles as she looks at the sky, and wonders whether she shall ever find her way home. The sky could consume her. The world inside her little garden could hide her away from her father for-ever. She could never go home. She could live cloaked in secret roses and sleep on benches, and spend every day wandering further and getting more lost, and she believes she would never tire of walking. She's only a girl.
But the sky turns grey and blue and shaded, and from out of no where clouds turn grey and thick and trembling, and the wind picks up. Cosette turns around in circles as she looks at the sky, and wishes it were not quite so grey. The air is still suddenly, and hot.
She turns around and looks away from the sky and sees a man who isn't grey walking in the same world inside her little garden. She runs to him, her pretty little shoes thudding on the ground and kicking through leaves.
"Hello! Hello! Oh, please, do stop!"
She's only a girl.
The man who isn't grey turns. "Hello."
"I'm lost. I was in my garden, and I got lost. I don't want it to rain."
He smiles an odd smile, and she notices pockmarks on his nose. Pockmarks, to Cosette, come from illness. She wonders when he was ill. She wonders how it was. A girl was ill in the convent once. A girl would cry all through the night when she was ill, and her tears were hot, and her face was hot, and her dreams were hot and aching and sticky and all the same. Cosette wonders whether his dreams were all the same.
"Don't let it."
"But I don't know how to stop it." She trembles.
"Tell it to promenade off."
"Will that stop it?"
He smiles an odd smile, and his mouth quirks. He has a mouth made for smiling wryly. Cosette has never smiled wryly in her life. She does smile, though. She likes to smile. She doesn't remember that there were years when she didn't.
"You can only try."
She's only a girl. Cosette closes her eyes and whispers to the rain please to go to-day. To-day she is getting lost. To-day she is walking and wandering in her garden, because she cannot get away through her gate. Suddenly she feels him take her hands. The wind is picking up again, soft and kind to the sky. She opens her eyes.
"Good work, youngster."
Cosette wants to kiss him, wants to kiss his odd smile, but she's only a girl and she doesn't understand. She smiles. She likes to smile.
"Thank you! Oh, thank you!"
"Now walk home again. You'll worry somebody."
"All right," she whispers to the man. She turns around in circles until she faces back the way she came. She can't help looking over her shoulder, though, looking back at the man. He smiles an odd smile, and she notices pockmarks on his nose. She wonders if he cried all night, and whether his tears were hot. She can't help looking back, but he smiles, and she smiles too, and then she runs, back the way she came.
In a moment she is back in her little pretty garden, and there is a gate between her and the laughing people. Cosette laughs. Cosette spins around. She met somebody who smiled, and it is better than a thousand laughing people.
She stopped the rain.
She wanted to kiss him, but she doesn't understand.
She doesn't need a name. She laughs. She spins around. She sees his smile everywhere she looks, every time she looks at the cloudless sky.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-10 08:16 am (UTC)That line, sheer poetry.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-10 03:31 pm (UTC)Thank you.