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| Quinn Teraphal | May 2 2008, 02:33 AM |
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The sun is beginning to set, turning the sky a vibrant shade of pink. A lone child sits cross-legged under the large apple tree in the back yard. The light filters through the leaves, giving some patches of grass a slight reddish tint. The yard doesn't have much else in it, except a cardboard box and a green and blue bicycle. She appears to be unwatched; her babysitter is indoors, asleep. The sound of a radio can be heard faintly from the house. The gate opens slightly as a small breeze picks up. The child covers her ears, glaring at the box. She's completely unaware of the gate opening, only a little aware of the breeze. Some denim is hanging out of the side. As the little girl stlares intensely at the box, the denim moves, seemingly of its own accord, back into the box. The pair of jeans that the denim belongs to seems to fold itself neatly as a book floats above them. The book drops. Slowly, the whole container lifts off the ground. It resists the breeze, and hovers a few inches off of the ground until a ripe apple falls into the box. The girl jumps, startled by the apple, and then mutters a word she seems a little too young to use. As the breeze dies, another apple falls. Her eyes follow it, and as soon as it drops below the fence level, it moves to the left and lands next to the first apple. Her hands move back to her ears and she purses her lips, concentrating again. The box lifts again. She looks towards the bike, still thinking about the box, but it drops as soon as it leaves her line of vision. She brings a tiny fist down on the neatly mown grass, blowing air out of her nose, and starts the process over again. Evidently, she's not one to give up easily... |
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| Practice · Neighborhoods | |
12:14 AM Nov 27
