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A Golden Afternoon

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A Golden Afternoon Empty A Golden Afternoon

Post by Karimah Mon May 31, 2021 3:22 am

A Golden Afternoon Postytemp


---



At that moment a cry arose among the citizens and the travelers foreign to Engloria: “A ghost! A ghost! Run for your pitiful lives!”

A bizarre small ball of light flew ever faster through the ancient city, and left behind it a trail of blue exuberant smoke as the curious thing flitted towards a small turn to escape the bewildered and astonished pedestrians.

The following crowd noisily parted, and gave passage to the mystical and strange orb that had only just emerged from the aforementioned route to find a marketplace littered with the confused tittering of people.

It was the genie in her purest form. Others thought, however, that she might have been something else entirely like:

“A banshee! No! A poltergeist!” said a merchant, trembling in the sea of his fear.

This possibly rare creature appeared, even in all the consternation she was met with, to fear the scrambling mass more than they did her. Her panic snowballed, wondering if they acknowledged her as a sort of monster or if there truly was a ghost tailing her. Everything in this plane of existence put her mind in a constant pandemonium; her kind were known to possess magic in a world solely dominated by humans and otherworldly laws but there was nothing of higher power than the jinn and yet such a concept didn’t apply to this peculiar side of the cosmos. Magical diversity existed here and as such unpredictability did not go unrecognized and it made her question things.

She did not show any signs of stopping; she zipped past fine architecture she might have marveled over had she not been in such a rush and arrived at a narrow path, squeezed through the tight valley, discovered a lush wonderland that was positively filled to the brim with flowers, and indulged in a desperate thought of where a glowing smoke bomb like her could hide.

Why could they have not confused her for an unsightly cloud of flatulence and leave well enough alone? That was quite gross to think about, but it had potential. Too much potential. That would be a very good plan B. At last she came across a lovely setup that reminded her of home and seated herself hurriedly upon a plush pillow, and Karimah was able to materialize a body that blossomed from a generous plume of smoke. At that very moment, one of her golden bracelets unfastened and fell. It rolled vicariously and dropped on its side; when it stopped rolling the charming reveal of a fine collection had captured her eye. But before she could get carried away and start touching everything, Karimah realized that upon her lap was the lamp.

She blinked as she might have seen another of a similar likeness to it in that pretty display. How she looked at her lamp and then the other like a deer caught in the headlights. Oh, what if they had more of these? They could have mistaken her for a thief!

“I can understand how this might appear to you,” she nearly stammered with an embarrassed smile, “but I didn’t steal this one from you.” She revealed the glossy exterior of her home, but then cursed her wording. This one? Really. Had she stolen another?

“No, that isn’t right. Please, don’t misunderstand me. I am a very simple-minded cloud of sparkling flatulence! ” Blurted the stressed genie, not even taking a second of her time to notice if the person was still listening. She wrung at her green dress and fell forward with the lamp still in her arms, her long silvery hair sprawled about as she awkwardly pressed her face into the ground and murmured into it like it was the kindest thing in her universe.




Word Count; 624
made bycapt. meows
Karimah
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A Golden Afternoon Empty Re: A Golden Afternoon

Post by Saeven Mon Jun 07, 2021 11:05 pm

730 words
an image in my head
calling for blue skies
Not many were aware of the little shop of fortunes which frequented Engloria’s beautiful gardens and those who did cited their fateful encounter through curious and often exaggerated tales. Throughout what seemed like nearly half a century the stories would begin to stray from their origins at a ludicrous pace. By word of mouth the people had begun calling him a shaman, an exorcist, and even a devil in disguise. The latter being the most confusing and offensive of them all. It had caused the already recluse elf to resign himself – defeated by all the misunderstandings and rumors, yet never choosing to clear his name – to the more inconspicuous areas of the Royal Rose Park.

Surrounding himself by all sorts of greenery, his colorful makeshift shop was nothing more than a plush carpet and wooden trunk tucked away in some unnamed flower-filled nook. Yet to those who would accidentally stumble upon it their eyes would be welcomed with a trove of glittering treasures and trinkets displayed upon the eclectic mash of colors and fabrics. At its center, a man with pointed ears and pale skin wearing robes of equally colorful design would sit perched on his cushion ready to serve the ever-curious eye. He would tell them to take a seat and the rest would be history.

For Saeven, this had been his life. Monotone. Routine. Safe.

He reminisced. The thoughts of his life prior to this afternoon brought upon by a distant commotion. Silly, as always. Humans could be so silly sometimes. A light smile graced his face as he entertained the thought, his slender fingers instinctively clutching the red book he had been reading prior to the screams and shouts closer to his face in an embarrassed fit. What if it truly WAS a ghost?

Before he could be lost in his even sillier musings, the wind drew his attention to the swaying bushes and flowers causing him to completely dismiss the ball of light zipping through the air and materializing before him. Saeven had caught but a glimpse of it before the ball had burst into a cloud of smoke. He recoiled on sight, bringing the book to his to chest in a sprawled mess. He froze. Maybe the humans had held some truth to their cries and for that second did his heart skip a fearful beat. Yet sitting before him was no ghost – only a girl. A very scared girl and a lamp very similar to one of his own.

Hesitantly did he lean forward, stopping only a few inches away from her face. The girl’s doe-eyed glances at his collection and stammering, nervous speech had been enough to calm his still-beating heart. She meant no harm, it seemed. She had been as surprised as he and for a second it seemed the both parties basked in the sentiment before the silence was broken by the silver-haired stranger.

“Ah,” dropping the book it bounced off his lap, then landed flat on her head, before its contents spilled open next to her bowing form against the ground. Depicted on it were small scenes of men and women entangled in sometimes suggestive and otherwise implicit acts, contrasted only by the heaps of text that served as a simple but useless censor. He had brought his hands up as a means to stop her from apologizing, but as the dreaded book bonked her, he found himself apologizing in her stead.

“Ah! Forgive me, I was–”

His soft-spoken outburst had been drowned out by her much louder one as she called herself a sparkling cloud of flatulence, completely shifting his thought process.

“What?” a nervous chuckle escaped him, and then he had to cover his mouth to stifle a laugh. “A sparkling cloud of flatulence, you say? Did the wind carry you in my direction? I must say that the flowers well mask the smell,” Saeven joked, finding the situation much too amusing as it had been a rather slow day for his little shop. A small glint caught his attention, and he noted a golden bracelet that had somehow found its way onto his shop’s carpet. Carefully did he pick it up with one hand and cupped it in the other.

“You can rise, you know,” he continued, his voice offering a calm tone as he inspected the shiny accessory. “I’m well aware you haven’t stolen anything.”
<3
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A Golden Afternoon Empty Re: A Golden Afternoon

Post by Karimah Wed Jun 09, 2021 1:26 pm

A Golden Afternoon Postytemp


---



Bonk.

Stifling her own laughter, she fixed upon the ground her bulging brown eyes, cheeks puffing dangerously, quite so repeatedly as the comical being painted a picture in her mind with his polite mannerisms and mildly cheeky sense of humor. But her resilience crumbled and from the ashes of her burning shame emerged a most unflattering sound, one that fell from her lips in a sputtering: “Pbffttt! Pbbbrrtt!”

The woman resembled more of a deer being consumed by rabies than an actual person, then she reddened as though a bonfire had scorched her cheeks and, sitting up with such questionable haste, she tried to make proper sentences through the assorted ‘prrrts’ and the varying failed attempts at clarifying things for him; nothing truly understandable could escape her lips.

Through all the wheezing she was horrified! How could she have laughed like that knowing he could have easily mistaken her for a bonafide butt trumpet? With that peculiar description in mind, she mentally pleaded with the deities of her homeland to give her the strength to retain whatever dignity she had in her and adversely fell to the side with a graceless sigh of defeat.  “I am not really a traveling butt spore nor am I a scary little poltergeist,” she finally squeaked through the ragged breaths of her earlier chortling, enjoying the endearing pain in her tummy as she clawed at the air pathetically  to demonstrate that she was anything but a danger.

She turned her head as the lamp fell on the book that was once in the fellow’s possession. She pushed the shiny object to the side and with adorable curiosity spotted the small text, the questionable art, and the sheer filth. She perused through it briefly, snuck him a shy glance and a raised bushy brow, then back to the page she was on.

Saucy.

Karimah quivered, an invisible fog merged over her oddly glazed eyes, every pulse hammered violently in that mortal shell, the rosy flowers rustled and the silky petals whirled around her; she no longer saw nor heard anything except all of her innermost desires stored in one book, complete with naughty depictions for her viewing pleasure.

When she failed to keep herself in check, Karimah and the merchant were alone beside the colorful stand which made these two youthful figures stand out strangely and more so as she cupped the sides of her blushing face and erupted into a shapeless mass of blue smoke that practically consumed his little shop of wonders. It grew, expanded, contorted itself until it resembled a pink heart that could be seen from a mile away.

“Oh, my!” moaned Karimah, not so softly, in a voice that was not her own. It was deep, teasing and quite husky. In fact, it sounded alarmingly masculine and it might have grazed more than a few ears in the area with all that extra boom. Such a fragrance of ecstasy, such a stench of perversion pervaded the magical servant that she recognized the brilliance of this creature and spiraled downward to greet him with a pleased whine: “I want you,” she was only a few mere inches away from his face , “to rub my lamp. Three wishes if you let me borrow that book.” She wasn’t the fearsome cloud of pink but the same woman from before.

And then she saw them. Those pointed ears! What a blessed feature he had! She marveled at them, she marveled at him! What were those strange markings on his face? She was fascinated already! As though under a spell, she wiggled her fingers merrily and reached out to touch them until she recalled one of her first interactions in this world. She brought her hands to her neck and then cupped her face once more.

She would not touch him.

“Are you an elf?” she asked softly, closing her eyes as she quite tuckered herself out.





Word Count; 639
made bycapt. meows
Karimah
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