|
From: | Robbie Kirby |
Subject: | [grt-talk] Re: Answer |
Date: | Wed, 10 Jan 2007 14:03:22 +0500 |
In desperation he pushed back the blankets with
his hands for the first time, hoping against hope that it wasnt as bad as the
shapes the blankets made seemed to suggest it was. From outside came the steady soft creak of lines and rigging, the slow flap of the sails in the first faint breezes of the freshening trade winds, the occasional cry of a bird. There, within plain sight, was salvation: all he had to do was break the window and the dog-lock the bitch had put on his tongue and scream Help me, help me, save me from Annie! And inside he thought: What I want, Annie, is for you to do one of your forgetting acts when Ive got access to one of your knives and Im sure I can move well enough to use it. He fled to that well now, like a thirsty animal finding a
waterhole at dusk, and he drank from it; which is to say he found the hole in
the paper and fell thankfully through it. In desperation he pushed back the
blankets with his hands for the first time, hoping against hope that it wasnt
as bad as the shapes the blankets made seemed to suggest it
was. In desperation he pushed back
the blankets with his hands for the first time, hoping against hope that it
wasnt as bad as the shapes the blankets made seemed to suggest it was. From outside came the steady soft creak of lines and rigging, the slow flap of the sails in the first faint breezes of the freshening trade winds, the occasional cry of a bird. There, within plain sight, was salvation: all he had to do was break the window and the dog-lock the bitch had put on his tongue and scream Help me, help me, save me from Annie! And inside he thought: What I want, Annie, is for you to do one of your forgetting acts when Ive got access to one of your knives and Im sure I can move well enough to use it. In desperation he pushed back
the blankets with his hands for the first time, hoping against hope that it
wasnt as bad as the shapes the blankets made seemed to suggest it was. From
outside came the steady soft creak of lines and rigging, the slow flap of the
sails in the first faint breezes of the freshening trade winds, the occasional
cry of a bird. There, within plain sight, was salvation: all he had to do was
break the window and the dog-lock the bitch had put on his tongue and scream
Help me, help me, save me from Annie! And inside he thought: What I want,
Annie, is for you to do one of your forgetting acts when Ive got access to one
of your knives and Im sure I can move well enough to use
it.
|
[Prev in Thread] | Current Thread | [Next in Thread] |