#168: The seeds of greater things.
Oct. 16th, 2006 04:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreDone in fifteen minutes, for once. Original.
. . .
It was Persia who started it. She had a little black disk with two eyes carved on the front that she said her dad brought back from Egypt, and she wore it on a hemp string around her neck. It was cold in the summer and hot when it snowed, or that's what she told us, but no one else got to touch it while it was around her neck.
"I think it's creepy," I told her once.
She glanced at me in that annoying way that seemed like she was looking down her nose. "Why? You can't even see it, anyway."
"But it has eyes on it!"
"So?" She pulled it out from onder her shirt and stretched the string out so the disk glared out at me. "It scares away evil."
"Nobody believes in evil," I scoffed. But the eyes looked sinister, and I might've changed my mind if she hadn't dropped the thing beneath her shirt again.
It was true that she didn't get sick that year, and we couldn't ignore that. My sister caught the flu twice, and I had a cold that lingered for months in the form of a dry cough that came in fits. That went away eventually, but I couldn't play as long as running made me sick.
Persia was out every day. Even in the rain. And she waved her pendant at me every time she came over to ask me out. "I told you so," she'd say, bouncing it on its string.
I didn't like those eyes staring out at me though. While I was stuck inside sick, I pulled out my mother's old coffee table book on Egypt and found another symbol I liked better. There were so many I couldn't keep track. I liked the jackal god in particular, and when my mom wasn't home I cut the page out and tacked it on the back of my bedroom door. He'd protect me. He looked like a majestic dog, standing guard over my room.
It's funny how the bigger, important things in life start out small like that.
. . .
. . .
Word: memory
Note: half-inspired by that children's story I can't recall the title of. The one with the eyes. :P Also, Ctesiphon. Don't ask.
. . .
It was Persia who started it. She had a little black disk with two eyes carved on the front that she said her dad brought back from Egypt, and she wore it on a hemp string around her neck. It was cold in the summer and hot when it snowed, or that's what she told us, but no one else got to touch it while it was around her neck.
"I think it's creepy," I told her once.
She glanced at me in that annoying way that seemed like she was looking down her nose. "Why? You can't even see it, anyway."
"But it has eyes on it!"
"So?" She pulled it out from onder her shirt and stretched the string out so the disk glared out at me. "It scares away evil."
"Nobody believes in evil," I scoffed. But the eyes looked sinister, and I might've changed my mind if she hadn't dropped the thing beneath her shirt again.
It was true that she didn't get sick that year, and we couldn't ignore that. My sister caught the flu twice, and I had a cold that lingered for months in the form of a dry cough that came in fits. That went away eventually, but I couldn't play as long as running made me sick.
Persia was out every day. Even in the rain. And she waved her pendant at me every time she came over to ask me out. "I told you so," she'd say, bouncing it on its string.
I didn't like those eyes staring out at me though. While I was stuck inside sick, I pulled out my mother's old coffee table book on Egypt and found another symbol I liked better. There were so many I couldn't keep track. I liked the jackal god in particular, and when my mom wasn't home I cut the page out and tacked it on the back of my bedroom door. He'd protect me. He looked like a majestic dog, standing guard over my room.
It's funny how the bigger, important things in life start out small like that.
. . .
. . .
Word: memory
Note: half-inspired by that children's story I can't recall the title of. The one with the eyes. :P Also, Ctesiphon. Don't ask.