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  • Meanwhile, Granola was doing her yearly assessment with Ailill, and it didn't go as planned. She'd hoped for recognition and an increase of responsibilities, but nothing of that sort was given. She'd felt like crying and had to pop in the little dog in the room to whine insistently and express her frustration. Ailill had said she ... · ID #5663 (continued)
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Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories

› Forums › Yurara Fameliki’s Stories › Circle of Eights, Stories › Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories

February 10, 2008 at 2:50 pm #692
TracyTracy
Participant
    Sanso's Party

    It was a perfect year for mushrooms in the mossy green fields of the Upper Ubzich regions, and gaily coloured clumps of them glistened in the morning dew. The weak sun felt deliciously warm to Zhanochka, after the interminable months of frost and ice. She pushed her sleeves up past her elbows, exposing the milk white flesh that she (or anyone else for that matter) rarely saw, clutched her grimy skirts up above the oozing mud, and ran across the field for no reason at all, other than it felt good to run.

    Zhanochka kept running. And running……something strange happened to Zhanochka that day, the day she ran and ran…..

    It was, in retrospect, as if she had run from one world, into another one, a completely different world, and she was glad.

    Daily Random Quote

    • Meanwhile, Granola was doing her yearly assessment with Ailill, and it didn't go as planned. She'd hoped for recognition and an increase of responsibilities, but nothing of that sort was given. She'd felt like crying and had to pop in the little dog in the room to whine insistently and express her frustration. Ailill had said she ... · ID #5663 (continued)
      (next in 02h 57min…)

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