When you have a dog with a long nose
Its quite funny to see what they might do with it
Needless to say half the time its to get into trouble
Dodging reprimands with a happy face
(Hey, you’ll still be punished for that, I don’t care how cute you are)
Other times putting their nose out of joint
Unified not with the lines of their face
Never forgetting that you are indeed sometimes as smart as them
Depending, of course, on a subject where they never could be the one in the wrong
At the very least there was the possibility to change the subject. Tim knew he couldn’t ask Irish to do this now. Even if she could talk to Heherson about it, it wouldn’t be fair to her and who knew how long it would take Heherson to get beyond the whole “take me back” routine he’d likely start up the moment Irish arrived. Very quickly, Tim checked his phone to see if he had somehow missed a call. Gotten a message. Anything. But no, his father had not responded in any form.
Time to bite the bullet. “Speaking of the dead, have you noticed outside? The zombie apocalypse is starting.”
Heherson was still smiling, though his cheeks flushed slightly. “Yeah, I’d noticed. I was actually going to ask you about that, since you showed up and all.”
Tim wasn’t going to take that. “Why do you look embarrassed.”
“Well…” Heherson shifted uncomfortably, his smile still there despite it clearly resonating his discomfort rather than any other emotion. “Because it had been on my mind for the last couple weeks, you know? Something that would impress Irish.”
“You know she’s had some big meetings coming up, right? It wouldn’t matter whether it impressed her or not, she would still be too upset over how it messed up her work to think well of it.”
“I know! And I certainly thought of that after, but…”
Tim put up a hand. “After what? Start at the beginning, Heherson. Did you or did you not actually take the idea on your mind and put it in reality?”
As always at the end of her shift, Azzah began to feel tired. She could just taste the drink from town already, something that always came at the end of their day to quench the thirst that grew at the same rate as the sunlight slanting through the distant forest’s treetops.
They were at a prime location, here in Hirka. The forest lay right down the way, a great expanse of trees for everything the people might need to take from it. In the other direction lay the waters, for anyone who wanted to make the few day trip. Everything within their reach. The only better place to live in the entire land had to be the Emperor’s Lake. Even then, Hirka was better. Azzah might have held a little bias.
“The Lel’ul should be back soon,” Reem said.
Azzah glanced back at the Lel’ul’s private home. Doing his bidding was their top priority and this was what he wanted of them. Defend this strange house. He had told them once that the idea for it came from some far off land. It fascinated Azzah, though she wasn’t sure she would ever want to live in it. It looked to have more space than anyone needed.
“He went to see the emperor, right?” Azzah asked.
“Do you know what it was about?”
Her spear-sister shrugged. “Probably the usual. You know how it is.”
Azzah did, but it didn’t mean she understood. Politics were above her. All she knew was how to fit into the position Reem had led her to. She knew how to be a spearwoman and that was all.
Irish had been completely right. Already Heherson had started in on it. There was no way that bringing her here would let Heherson focus on anything else. On the other hand, would he then stop raising the dead if Irish asked him to? Tim was here, so it wasn’t like he could do anything else. It wasn’t as if Heherson had tried doing anything to Irish anyway, since they had broken up. He might seem a bit obsessed, but other than being a bit of a creep while talking about it Heherson hadn’t done anything.
“I haven’t. You know why? Not because there’s anything wrong with Irish. Not because there is anything wrong with me. I’ve never been interested in that at all. Being a necromancer seems to make you want to have a lot more interaction with the living, Heherson. But the things even we untrained necromancers can tell about the body creeps me out more than anything. I’ve never been interested in touching anyone ever.”
Heherson scratched at his short cropped beard. “If you aren’t interested in the living, did you think that you might be more interested in the dead maybe?”
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t heard that before. “No, I don’t think that would do it for me either. Just because we’re born necromancers doesn’t automatically make us necrophiliacs.”
“Sure doesn’t make me one. The cold doesn’t do it for me, you know?”
“Cold sure bites.”
Captivated, one may describe the
Helpless feeling from an
Acceptance that is brought from another’s smile
Relishing in the moment they
Make you feel special
I don’t say it either, but I don’t know why. February is a strange word. So I went and looked it up. One thing I read said apparently people have dropped that first “r” for about a hundred a fifty years. Another mentioned it is because that combination of sounds doesn’t come naturally in the English language. I’ll admit, it is easier for me to say fevrier than it is for me to pronounce February correctly.
And I am wrong. Some people do pronounce it as it is spelled. Props to you. (I am being sincere.) It helps with spelling if you can say words properly.
Oh, wait. There is the word colonel. And if you pronounce that first “l” as an “l” and not an “r”, people will look at you strangely (at least, where I live). I did that once, when I was younger, after I first saw how the word was spelled. Very confusing. The “ei” in eight and the “ei” in height are completely different. So forget my own previous point and let me make the only one that I think really matters.
Can people understand you? Good. That’s all that matters. If someone pronounces something strangely, but you know what they have said, then what? You understand them. That’s all that needs to be said.
Same thing with Writing. What is a wrong way to Write? The right way?
If it is clear, it is right. Not to say that the story can’t be vague, but as long as the reader can follow the words along, some concepts, some actions, some character… something. Writing can be anything. Sometimes it isn’t even a story. Sometimes words for the words’ sake is just as important. Whatever you want to Write.
Maybe there isn’t an audience for whatever, but sometimes there is. Even if that only audience member is yourself. Clarity in expression, even if that expression is confusion.