Her medieval fortifications were not enough
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Her medieval fortifications were not enough to withstand the onslaught of his
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18th cent. steam powered love machine. He stoked the firebox of love with select anthracite. "Give me all your lovin'," he crooned through his tin speaking trumpet. Her portcullis
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was what we called it. In our part of town you just didn't talk about such things in public. But you couldn't ignore hers. No sir, everyone in the town had a hankein' for her porti
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co, for they knew it would eventually lead them inside. As they stood near the front door, they realized it wasn't just a façade. "Nice pillars," one of them remarked.
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"And the arch is quite spectacular." A cold breeze blew from the front door, beckoning them to retreat from the scorching heat outside. As soon as they stepped in, a granite wall
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met their gaze.
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My attention was then redirected to an unexpected visitor. "Elsa, do you wanna build a snowman?" she cheerily sang. :D
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Id I think so? Yes. Our snowman was special indeed, because he sang. Nobody taught him, he naturally could sing! The Singing Snowman toured and somehow avoided melting. Amazing how
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that period of my life had completely slipped my mind. It was like looking in on somebody else's life, being there when they had to make the hard decisions, but you're there as you
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turn the pages of your own history. My eyes brimmed with tars as I thought about what a twit I had been. So obnoxious when I thought I was funny. I hoped that I would be forgiven.
3
- Started
- 2014-08-27 23:24:34
- Finished
- 2017-03-07 16:23:02
1 Comments
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Woab Mar 07 2017 @ 16:23
Tars and nicotine. I had been a heavy smoker. That's what killed me in the end.