Useless LXG banter from Ash De Brie 3
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They sat in the highest hills, overlooking the long pastures of bamboo sticks and forest. She would pluck her harp, harshly as to give the tune of a banjo, and he would fiddle his fingers over the holes, creating the wispful windy sounds of his own instrument. A bamboo flute, she had made him. It's bright yellowish color was distracting, just as the tune he played through it's thick bone. Over the clouds and the air, it could be heard, no walls or boundries pursuing or disrupting it's course. She kept her eyes closed, flicking her hands across the strings, keeping it soft, as to not waken the spirit of the flute. He would make it amusing by repeating constant notes, badgering her into being a bit softer, or a little louder. Despite any note played, he kept it to his mood, lonely, but the sort of lonliness that you knew someone else was watching with you. She would speak through her tricks, through the nylon and metal pieces of rope, and he would reply with his own rhythm.
There was no one around to hear them play the wonderful music, there was no one around to give a clap of their hands, a yell of congrats. There was the grass to push their sound along, there was the flowers to dance to his solo and her duet. There was the wind to smile with a whisper, there was the sun to watch with a glow. In the valley below, thick bamboo sticks would clunk heavily together as a panda bear would heave himself amongst the forest, gnawing hungrily on his lunch and intently watching the two at the top of the hill. In the hills beside them, pastures of cows would raise their heads to the toots, the flickering of melody, while mustering their strength to continue chewing their food of the year. In the ocean behind them, the whales would spy hop, glancing around for the source of the rhythm, before diving below the depths to hear it echo under the legs of krill and fins of their young. It was a piece of heaven, a piece of paradise for the two. One only came to support the other, even though there was no need, as he was usually alone anyway. There were few words spoken between the duo, though if she took the chance to talk to him, it would be nothing but riddles for him to solve.
" If you want to be free, then live." How can life bring you freedom? He would ask her. She would simply shake her head. He would not understand easily, so she would take him here. To let him have a chance to create his own tune. She would tell him his own tune, each note, was a step forward in his life. Sometimes he would change notes, to create a better tune. He would think twice before moving. He had the chance to live, therefore he was free to make his own steps. He was not chained as his recent memories would tell him. He had the choice to come here. He had the choice to see this part, the steps he had yet to take.
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He opened his eyes, and gazed upon the pitch black room. A Dream. He leaned over, instinctively feeling for the small knob, and upon grasping it, turned it, and a warmth filled the area as light shown in the dark cabin. He looked over at the desk he had set up, and the letter of sins he had patched up with dried ink. Next to the dirtied envelope, was a knife. The knife he had supposedly known was to be the death of him. He stood up, not bothering for the ocean chill that crept through his room. He walked over to the desk and gazed at the knife, a gift he had gotten from an old friend. He looked at it's handle, which sparkled in it's glory of polished oak, then gazed along it's slim fine blade of steel. He picked it up, and spun it slowly in his hand, grasping as if to strike, then loosely as if to drop. He stopped for a moment, and raised his head, his ears catching the hint of the very song he would play in his dreams. He looked around, and saw her, her eyes smiling warmly at him, while she plucked the rhythm of his flute, before going back to her normal original tune. Her satin pearl dress hid her silk-like white skin, but it did not deplete her appearance. She crossed her leg over her other, slightly nudging a broken piece of wood, that he had removed earlier from the closet door as it had gotten in his way. He looked at the knife in his hand, then at the wood, before going over to her. Taking a seat next to the "angel", he picked up the piece of wood, and whistled the tune in his dreams, while she played her background songs. He took the knife, and slowly began to carve the wooden piece. He wished to be free, but he didn't think life would of brought freedom. He wished to step somewhere, but he didn't know where to step. Until now. She had shown him that it takes time to get where he wanted to be, the panda had to step through the thick forest to fetch his snack. The whale had to swim to glance at the hills. The wind had to blow in order to fill it's next position. Everything took time, and a little effort to be free. She stayed beside him while he worked, and she remained beside him as he worked, while he whistled, and she twinged upon the harp...
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"Mr. Skinner, for the last---" Mina barged the door open, but her voice caught. She stared at the view, unsure of whether to be impressed, or rather disgusted the thief had found a new way to amuse himself. She gazed at his bed, where she could tell he still rested, hidden underneath the blankets. However, the closet to the right of his bed had been...mauled, in an unlikely way. Large pieces of wood had been torn and cut out from the mantels and framework. A knife laid on the floor, along side a sheet of paper which held many splinters and small specks of blood. But it wasn't the closet, moreso or less that had caught her attention, but it had been his desk. She stepped across the messy room, and looked at the small sancutuary. The desk held a large landscape of wood, carved beautifully into things she believed could never be in the same place. Four hills decorated and surrounded a beautiful valley of bamboo forests. A panda bear chewed hungrily inside, his head up turned towards a certain hill. An ocean beyond the hills had wooden whales leaping out to glance at such scenery. Pastures of cows filled two of the hills, but all of the living creatures, plant and animal, moved towards a particular mountain. Mina leaned over, and squinted slightly, picking up one of the figures upon the sighted grassy mount. It was Skinner himself, if he was visible to his own eye. He was holding up a small flute-like object, his eyes watching the panda bear, while he blew through it's mouth piece. She was slightly amazed at the texture, and placed it back where it came, gazing at the last remaining object. It was his angel, and picking it up, she saw that the girl was holding a harp, and plucking it with graceful fingers, her eyes closed as her ears seemed to be the sense she was using to listen to Skinner. The wings on her back were spread wide, but seemed to relax in the wind that was being imagined on the hill. Carved onto the top of the harp, a design spelt out, "If you want to be free, then live". Mina sat it back down, before turning to leave. She stopped in the doorway, and looked towards the floor as she shut his door. Yesterday's argument with him had caused her to say such a phrase, and he had left, whether in tears or anger she couldn't tell. However, she had never once suspected he would believe her an angel, let alone an angel with a harp. She walked away, heading to the bridge, still imagining the view she had seen in his room, and the thick, but graceful cursive words that spelt her name out on the bottom of the female figure.
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I had trouble deciding what I was going to call this one. Woodwork or Oriental Garden. Oriental Garden was the name of the song used, and for some reason, it still didn't seem to fit. So I chose Bamboo Walls since it's technically a wall of bamboo that holds Skinner back from choosing suicide over living xX . I've told Raven the same saying, as well as many others. Changed their mind on Suicide alot, plus I was listening to this song, so I decided, "oh well." It's useless babble, don't even worry if you don't understand it 3
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They sat in the highest hills, overlooking the long pastures of bamboo sticks and forest. She would pluck her harp, harshly as to give the tune of a banjo, and he would fiddle his fingers over the holes, creating the wispful windy sounds of his own instrument. A bamboo flute, she had made him. It's bright yellowish color was distracting, just as the tune he played through it's thick bone. Over the clouds and the air, it could be heard, no walls or boundries pursuing or disrupting it's course. She kept her eyes closed, flicking her hands across the strings, keeping it soft, as to not waken the spirit of the flute. He would make it amusing by repeating constant notes, badgering her into being a bit softer, or a little louder. Despite any note played, he kept it to his mood, lonely, but the sort of lonliness that you knew someone else was watching with you. She would speak through her tricks, through the nylon and metal pieces of rope, and he would reply with his own rhythm.
There was no one around to hear them play the wonderful music, there was no one around to give a clap of their hands, a yell of congrats. There was the grass to push their sound along, there was the flowers to dance to his solo and her duet. There was the wind to smile with a whisper, there was the sun to watch with a glow. In the valley below, thick bamboo sticks would clunk heavily together as a panda bear would heave himself amongst the forest, gnawing hungrily on his lunch and intently watching the two at the top of the hill. In the hills beside them, pastures of cows would raise their heads to the toots, the flickering of melody, while mustering their strength to continue chewing their food of the year. In the ocean behind them, the whales would spy hop, glancing around for the source of the rhythm, before diving below the depths to hear it echo under the legs of krill and fins of their young. It was a piece of heaven, a piece of paradise for the two. One only came to support the other, even though there was no need, as he was usually alone anyway. There were few words spoken between the duo, though if she took the chance to talk to him, it would be nothing but riddles for him to solve.
" If you want to be free, then live." How can life bring you freedom? He would ask her. She would simply shake her head. He would not understand easily, so she would take him here. To let him have a chance to create his own tune. She would tell him his own tune, each note, was a step forward in his life. Sometimes he would change notes, to create a better tune. He would think twice before moving. He had the chance to live, therefore he was free to make his own steps. He was not chained as his recent memories would tell him. He had the choice to come here. He had the choice to see this part, the steps he had yet to take.
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He opened his eyes, and gazed upon the pitch black room. A Dream. He leaned over, instinctively feeling for the small knob, and upon grasping it, turned it, and a warmth filled the area as light shown in the dark cabin. He looked over at the desk he had set up, and the letter of sins he had patched up with dried ink. Next to the dirtied envelope, was a knife. The knife he had supposedly known was to be the death of him. He stood up, not bothering for the ocean chill that crept through his room. He walked over to the desk and gazed at the knife, a gift he had gotten from an old friend. He looked at it's handle, which sparkled in it's glory of polished oak, then gazed along it's slim fine blade of steel. He picked it up, and spun it slowly in his hand, grasping as if to strike, then loosely as if to drop. He stopped for a moment, and raised his head, his ears catching the hint of the very song he would play in his dreams. He looked around, and saw her, her eyes smiling warmly at him, while she plucked the rhythm of his flute, before going back to her normal original tune. Her satin pearl dress hid her silk-like white skin, but it did not deplete her appearance. She crossed her leg over her other, slightly nudging a broken piece of wood, that he had removed earlier from the closet door as it had gotten in his way. He looked at the knife in his hand, then at the wood, before going over to her. Taking a seat next to the "angel", he picked up the piece of wood, and whistled the tune in his dreams, while she played her background songs. He took the knife, and slowly began to carve the wooden piece. He wished to be free, but he didn't think life would of brought freedom. He wished to step somewhere, but he didn't know where to step. Until now. She had shown him that it takes time to get where he wanted to be, the panda had to step through the thick forest to fetch his snack. The whale had to swim to glance at the hills. The wind had to blow in order to fill it's next position. Everything took time, and a little effort to be free. She stayed beside him while he worked, and she remained beside him as he worked, while he whistled, and she twinged upon the harp...
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"Mr. Skinner, for the last---" Mina barged the door open, but her voice caught. She stared at the view, unsure of whether to be impressed, or rather disgusted the thief had found a new way to amuse himself. She gazed at his bed, where she could tell he still rested, hidden underneath the blankets. However, the closet to the right of his bed had been...mauled, in an unlikely way. Large pieces of wood had been torn and cut out from the mantels and framework. A knife laid on the floor, along side a sheet of paper which held many splinters and small specks of blood. But it wasn't the closet, moreso or less that had caught her attention, but it had been his desk. She stepped across the messy room, and looked at the small sancutuary. The desk held a large landscape of wood, carved beautifully into things she believed could never be in the same place. Four hills decorated and surrounded a beautiful valley of bamboo forests. A panda bear chewed hungrily inside, his head up turned towards a certain hill. An ocean beyond the hills had wooden whales leaping out to glance at such scenery. Pastures of cows filled two of the hills, but all of the living creatures, plant and animal, moved towards a particular mountain. Mina leaned over, and squinted slightly, picking up one of the figures upon the sighted grassy mount. It was Skinner himself, if he was visible to his own eye. He was holding up a small flute-like object, his eyes watching the panda bear, while he blew through it's mouth piece. She was slightly amazed at the texture, and placed it back where it came, gazing at the last remaining object. It was his angel, and picking it up, she saw that the girl was holding a harp, and plucking it with graceful fingers, her eyes closed as her ears seemed to be the sense she was using to listen to Skinner. The wings on her back were spread wide, but seemed to relax in the wind that was being imagined on the hill. Carved onto the top of the harp, a design spelt out, "If you want to be free, then live". Mina sat it back down, before turning to leave. She stopped in the doorway, and looked towards the floor as she shut his door. Yesterday's argument with him had caused her to say such a phrase, and he had left, whether in tears or anger she couldn't tell. However, she had never once suspected he would believe her an angel, let alone an angel with a harp. She walked away, heading to the bridge, still imagining the view she had seen in his room, and the thick, but graceful cursive words that spelt her name out on the bottom of the female figure.
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I had trouble deciding what I was going to call this one. Woodwork or Oriental Garden. Oriental Garden was the name of the song used, and for some reason, it still didn't seem to fit. So I chose Bamboo Walls since it's technically a wall of bamboo that holds Skinner back from choosing suicide over living xX . I've told Raven the same saying, as well as many others. Changed their mind on Suicide alot, plus I was listening to this song, so I decided, "oh well." It's useless babble, don't even worry if you don't understand it 3