soft smiles - private

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

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    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 5px;height: 100px; padding: 0px; font-size: 25px; line-height: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-top:5px; margin-right: 10px][font=georgia][i][b]I[/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 416px; height: 200px; padding: 0px;overflow: auto][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 400px; height: 200px; padding: 0px; font-size: 9px; line-height: 10px; text-align: justify;]It was always the same, each night passing them by with no sleep, their mind occupied by nightmares and yet each melted away as sleep did, always fading before coherent memory could be formed, leaving only shadows of what happened. Time had allowed them to become used to this constant, unwelcome, intruder and they found no fear when they awoke upon that night, their lips parting with a groan, rubbing small circles into their temples, trying to keep the headache that threatened at bay. All around the mess strewn about the small bedroom was outlined by soft silver light, a spill of illumination that irritated their eyes, taking in the books and blankets heaped about the place, seeking volumes of their organizational skills. Mere days had passed since they had come to claim the little house and yet things had begun to build up already, once neat piles of books becoming a mess of ink splattered pages, ruined as they had made attempts to get around it all, others simply sitting where they had landed, thrown against the wall in a fit of rage.




    It was within silence that they took this sight in, looking over the books until they came across one, easily identified by it's size for it was much smaller than any other that they had gathered, it's leather covered split and curling at the corners, speaking of hard use. The mattress squeaked its protest as their weight was shifted, settling with a final groan when they came to slip from it, taking this small book before they moved through the house. It took only a few minutes for them to set them self upon the verandah that encircled the small building, a blanket cast over their shoulders, flicking through the pages yet not registering the words spread out over the yellowing surface.