Silver Tongue
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
2,732
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
2,732
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Prologue
Prologue
Imagine there was this world full of stars and pretty, old houses. No, not just a world, a whole universe shimmering with life. Yes, imagine that! Food that would melt on your lips, drinks that would parch your thirst and candies that would sweeten your mind. Lights, parties, children playing around while their mothers nattered in an endless chit chat… and the dances, so many dances that could spin your mind and make your hips sore.
This kind of joy, this way of living, happened on a warm summer night when the sun was set to sleep and the crowd could enjoy the sky. It was the Independence Day, not the 4th of July since this city comes from your imagination alone. I’m sure the characters wouldn’t mind to be disturbed by our holidays, but it was a special day to celebrate, a day of pure air that fills the lungs with thousands of smells, perhaps some of them unpleasant and others subdued. Nonetheless, beautiful in their own concept.
The tables stretched in long lines at the town’s square, cringing under the weight of dishes and bowls and three fat pigs sizzling in the fire. Old clothes, top hats, maybe not as stylish as the ones from nowadays but good enough, made you feel the itch to try them on. People were meticulously dressed, a little handkerchief here or a rose there completed their looks. Women wore long dresses of multiple pinks and bobbing laces, white and yellow if they were less promiscuous, all of them made by hand.
But while I babble with details, our main character enjoys his own bowl of mashed potatoes, chicken soup and the hidden glass of beer. Most kids sneaked one under the parents’ inattentive gaze, or a bottle if they got lucky. He was no exception.
This boy of 13 young years had big laughing eyes of a murky green texture or a grass hoper color, as his mother used to say. His hair was black and unbrushed under the scruffy flat cap, his shirt white with plain brown pants. A commoner, all in all. Then again, he didn’t mind being the odd kid of the party, the one who knew the hottest gossips because he had every kind of jobs. Carry groceries, clean stables, sell newspapers, broom floors. He would do anything for a penny or two and smile in courtesy to his employer.
His name was Dae.
Dae really loved to admire things from different perspectives. While people commented on the market’s prices and new trends, he noted the silly hats, how many inches they had, how many flowers or naughty plums, and the daring ones that possessed eerie garments and a whole bird sewed on the side. He enjoyed counting the A’s in the newspaper first page and build little towers with the pennies he received.
But he wasn’t just a boy.
Because if he was, he would play with sticks, rocks and those wooden toys most kids had. Because if he was, he would receive a sneaky treat from the ice cream seller just around the corner. Because if he was…
He wouldn’t sleep at the farm, in piles of hay along the goats, horses and mice that sought shelter from the rain.
Because if he was, he would be ordinary like half of the world. But also happy, like half of the world.
Imagine there was this world full of stars and pretty, old houses. No, not just a world, a whole universe shimmering with life. Yes, imagine that! Food that would melt on your lips, drinks that would parch your thirst and candies that would sweeten your mind. Lights, parties, children playing around while their mothers nattered in an endless chit chat… and the dances, so many dances that could spin your mind and make your hips sore.
This kind of joy, this way of living, happened on a warm summer night when the sun was set to sleep and the crowd could enjoy the sky. It was the Independence Day, not the 4th of July since this city comes from your imagination alone. I’m sure the characters wouldn’t mind to be disturbed by our holidays, but it was a special day to celebrate, a day of pure air that fills the lungs with thousands of smells, perhaps some of them unpleasant and others subdued. Nonetheless, beautiful in their own concept.
The tables stretched in long lines at the town’s square, cringing under the weight of dishes and bowls and three fat pigs sizzling in the fire. Old clothes, top hats, maybe not as stylish as the ones from nowadays but good enough, made you feel the itch to try them on. People were meticulously dressed, a little handkerchief here or a rose there completed their looks. Women wore long dresses of multiple pinks and bobbing laces, white and yellow if they were less promiscuous, all of them made by hand.
But while I babble with details, our main character enjoys his own bowl of mashed potatoes, chicken soup and the hidden glass of beer. Most kids sneaked one under the parents’ inattentive gaze, or a bottle if they got lucky. He was no exception.
This boy of 13 young years had big laughing eyes of a murky green texture or a grass hoper color, as his mother used to say. His hair was black and unbrushed under the scruffy flat cap, his shirt white with plain brown pants. A commoner, all in all. Then again, he didn’t mind being the odd kid of the party, the one who knew the hottest gossips because he had every kind of jobs. Carry groceries, clean stables, sell newspapers, broom floors. He would do anything for a penny or two and smile in courtesy to his employer.
His name was Dae.
Dae really loved to admire things from different perspectives. While people commented on the market’s prices and new trends, he noted the silly hats, how many inches they had, how many flowers or naughty plums, and the daring ones that possessed eerie garments and a whole bird sewed on the side. He enjoyed counting the A’s in the newspaper first page and build little towers with the pennies he received.
But he wasn’t just a boy.
Because if he was, he would play with sticks, rocks and those wooden toys most kids had. Because if he was, he would receive a sneaky treat from the ice cream seller just around the corner. Because if he was…
He wouldn’t sleep at the farm, in piles of hay along the goats, horses and mice that sought shelter from the rain.
Because if he was, he would be ordinary like half of the world. But also happy, like half of the world.