TogetherAgain; said:
Chapter Eleven
She woke up on some strange contraption known to some as a bed.
What are those for again? Someone remind me. I've been taking my extra long blinking sessions on the couch.
my beloved mentor said:
"Are you okay?" a young voice asked, carefully enunciating each word, trying to conquer his own accent.
Oh, I've been waiting for this kid for sooooo long. Such a sweetie.
My 'ittle sister said:
She blinked and persuaded her eyes to focus. A young boy was looking over her, his face bright and eager and helpful. ...Words... He was speaking... She could understand that... She could talk, too...
"You speak Een-glish. Yes?" The boy looked hopeful.
Yes! And fractured French! Isn't she talented? Also, she's alive! YAY! Words, Piggy! Aren't words fun? I like words.
one of the hostesses of Canerica... said:
Yes, but she hadn't spoken in a long time. She'd been far too busy listening. "...Wa-- ...water?" she croaked. Talking hurt.
Too busy listening... I really like that line. It's certainly true... annd it strikes me as special. If I were more awake, I'd elucidate.
6 days! said:
The boy's face lit up. "Water!" He vanished, and reappeared with a bowl in his hand. "Here is water," he said. He helped her sit up-- much to her chagrin, though she didn't bother show it-- and poured some water into her lips.
Water. Sweet, sweet water...
Water IS very sweet. I was just thinking of that today after my work out. It's sweet. And perfect.
5 days said:
He gave her little sips at a time until the bowl was empty, and then he set it aside. "Are you okay?" he asked again.
He's so sweet. I like that kid. what a wonderful person to be the first face she sees.
One half of one half of my other whole's half said:
She nodded and sat up a little more. Oh... So that was why the boy had helped her. She was weaker than she'd thought.
But this wasn't home. This wasn't her destination.
She would not stay here long.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Destination: home.... <sings along> She hasn't lost any of her drive to get home, and that is so wonderful and touchign and exciting to me.
You heard me said:
Kermit sighed a heavy sigh and stretched out on his log. Home sweet swamp.
He wondered what, exactly, had made him think that being away from the Muppet Boarding House would make tomorrow any easier.
Tomorrow, it would be exactly one year since he had seen her.
...Why hadn't he brought the gloves? Why had he left them under his pillow?
He missed those gloves.
...No. He didn't miss the gloves. He missed her.
Short, but very sweet scene! Great transition, Kermit in HIS swampy home... missing the gloves, missing her! I'm glad he knows that.
My principal source of amusement said:
The old man in the uniform looked at her passport.
He looked at her.
He looked at her passport.
He looked at her skin, tainted darker with all the dirt, and at her clothes, so baggy and filthy now, and at her hair, so matted and dirty and tied away, and at the way her bones seemed to stick out, with so very little between them and her skin...
<shiver> Wow... the difference in her phsically, AND emotionally. Very hard hitting way of showing it.
My principle source of literary anguish said:
She looked at her passport picture, and then looked up at him and smiled the way she had smiled for that picture.
He looked at her. He looked at her passport.
He picked up a stamp and stamped a page of the passport. He handed it back to her, and he put his hand on her shoulder. "Get yourself to a hospital," he whispered.
I'm so glad she's meeting kind people. That smile really gets to me... she's still herself, frightened and paranoid and put through the wringer. Same smile. She'll be alright.
My principal source of the word "Dude!" said:
It was remarkable. She was walking on the ground, and yet, there was sunlight. Bright, blinding sunlight. Flat, even, clear ground.
Still, she glanced around, eyes and ears at all times alert for any and all danger. Cars were very dangerous to pedestrians.
I like this... almost child-like perspective of the world now. It's new... and wonderful... and very dangerous.
my principle source of fun aggravation said:
Street. Street. Street. Street. That one.
House. House. House. House. House. House. Lots of houses.
...There. That one.
She stared at it.
She was tired. And weak. And probably in no shape to still be standing. But she wasn't there yet. Almost. Almost.
I can't remember anymore, but I bet all those houses made me CRAZY.
My principal source of "oy"s said:
She walked up to the porch. Steps. Now that was odd. She slowly walked up the steps. She crossed the porch. She opened the door. She stepped inside. She closed the door.
...Okay. She was here.
She's home! YIPPEE! And it's all over!
Not to be confused with my principal source of I's... although she might be. Whatever that is said:
She sat down, curled up into her usual ball, and instantly fell asleep.
Only...no. Not at all.
Keep a'goin'!
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