one small girl

sweet as a eucalyptus, terrible as a tempest

the motime tales: almost second anniversary

almost two years ago, when i apparantly did little else than to read blogs, i wrote the motime tales starring some of the most celebrated motime personalities of the time.

aside from enjoying what i wrote, i still do not know what inspired me to write them in the first place. I never got past the eighth installment. i think i got too busy. lost my muse. maybe that was the time the blood was starting to get sucked out of me.

so here they are again.


Friday, 18 June 2004  

I.

It is almost midnight.

Gongli sits by the piano His fingers feel the familiar ivory keys and starts playing one of the more complicated exercises of John Hanon. His eyes are transfixed on the piece, but his mind was on Hemingway, women, and non-Euclidian geometry. Midway into the exercise his fingers segue to a familiar Christmas carol.

Haze, still elated from her new found economic freedom, abruptly stood up to provide vocal accompaniment to the song. "Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fahahahaha hahahaha..."

December breeze carried the music outside the house, to the aerie where Mictlan spends his midnight smoke. He ~grins~ at the firefly perched on his open palms. "'Tis the season to be jolly, liebchen."

"Whoa, somebody's happy," Banzai Descent called out from below. "Hay naku!" he cried emphatically, "I need a fifteen minute break!" and went into the house.

posted by: onesmallgirl at 18:35 | link | comments |
motime tales

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