Physical. Emotional. However it happens, pain can be overcome.
Here is a vague introduction to those that work at 'Scratch' and their winnings, losses, triumphs and trials. It's the ink on the skin, the first blood, and those scars that lay deeper...
The Cap'n gone, the Vixen through the broomcloset, and all that was left was the grungy flower.
She sat up straight, alone in the Inn, and blinked a few times. The crickets and things,
chirping, things that go bump, and she seized the opportunity to leave her stool, close her eyes,
and spin, long swathe of velvet purple that was her skirt, spinning at her knees
Blue curls whipped and twirled in cyclone fancy as she moved, and then, like a thing of
the ether, she was gone.
Her walk on the sands of 'There' had been pleasant. She'd fallen asleep for some hours, dreams peaceful, lovely things, and when she awoke she was in a heap before a black iron door. Slowly she got to her feet, purple velvet skirt spreading out about her, undulating in the draught that came out of the darkness that surrounded, and she pulled the door open wide and stepped in.
There she was in the foyer of her parlour. The stripy black and white lino, reminding her of Beatlejuice, and the glass cabinets which showed nothing yet of her range of jewelery or aesthetic good. She slowly walked in, no sand at her feet, in her hair, just silence and the scraping of her heels along the thick, plastic covered floor.
She stood there, lost in space, in a zone of some sort, bemused by her journey to There and back. Shaking her head, she turned and wandered out the back to her granny flat shack, to a real bed, and to snuggle up warm, and hold herself tight, in a way no other person could but herself.
It was during that sleep, and consequently after her drinks and cigarettes with Charna <her possible sister-in-something if the past had been different, if she'd never slept with Mish, and Val had never left town> and the Cap'n Stephan <what label was that Port she nipped?! Did it dumb down the emotions?> that she forgot about Valcroix Alverra. For whatever reason the past dissolved, and her heart told her, like champagne bubbles by the ear, coaxing and blissful, to move on, dream harder, and forget.
Here is a vague introduction to those that work at 'Scratch' and their winnings, losses, triumphs and trials. It's the ink on the skin, the first blood, and those scars that lay deeper...
The Cap'n gone, the Vixen through the broomcloset, and all that was left was the grungy flower.
She sat up straight, alone in the Inn, and blinked a few times. The crickets and things,
chirping, things that go bump, and she seized the opportunity to leave her stool, close her eyes,
and spin, long swathe of velvet purple that was her skirt, spinning at her knees
Blue curls whipped and twirled in cyclone fancy as she moved, and then, like a thing of
the ether, she was gone.
Her walk on the sands of 'There' had been pleasant. She'd fallen asleep for some hours, dreams peaceful, lovely things, and when she awoke she was in a heap before a black iron door. Slowly she got to her feet, purple velvet skirt spreading out about her, undulating in the draught that came out of the darkness that surrounded, and she pulled the door open wide and stepped in.
There she was in the foyer of her parlour. The stripy black and white lino, reminding her of Beatlejuice, and the glass cabinets which showed nothing yet of her range of jewelery or aesthetic good. She slowly walked in, no sand at her feet, in her hair, just silence and the scraping of her heels along the thick, plastic covered floor.
She stood there, lost in space, in a zone of some sort, bemused by her journey to There and back. Shaking her head, she turned and wandered out the back to her granny flat shack, to a real bed, and to snuggle up warm, and hold herself tight, in a way no other person could but herself.
It was during that sleep, and consequently after her drinks and cigarettes with Charna <her possible sister-in-something if the past had been different, if she'd never slept with Mish, and Val had never left town> and the Cap'n Stephan <what label was that Port she nipped?! Did it dumb down the emotions?> that she forgot about Valcroix Alverra. For whatever reason the past dissolved, and her heart told her, like champagne bubbles by the ear, coaxing and blissful, to move on, dream harder, and forget.