| i'm the polite girl who gets a werther's orignals from grandpa whenever i visit the family estate. brother is given the engraved shotgun to shoot the fox, but you can't eat a shotgun like you can a blessed werther's orignals. well, father did (ate a shotgun) (so to speak), after the nursemaid scandal, but we don't talk about that, and whenever i do grandpa gives me another werher's original and asks me to be a polite girl | |
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Feb 5, 2016 07:38
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i open the double doors in the forbidden south wing and discover what i falsely recollect as a mass of writhing aged bodies and masked faces, but grandpa qucikly pops a werther's originals into my gaping mouth and tells me that i didn't see anything, and i believe him. i saw a mouldy tapestry and got confused, as tends to happen in this house
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Feb 5, 2016 07:40
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descending into the cellar using the staircase i found behind the false wall in the pantry, i hear what sounds like faint moaning. "ohhhhh....please help me.... i don't want to die down here". i reach the bottom and light a match (i;m not allowed to touch matches but i recently learned how to use them). touching my hand to the damp mossy wall i creep forward slowly, approaching an ever stronger glow, until i happen upon what appears to be a naked man, his flesh flayed, a limb missing (is that a thigh cooking on a spit above the fire). as my jaw drops in shock a hand, that famous loving hand belonging to dear old gramps, pops a beloved werthers' originals in my mouth and the butterscotch melts over my tongue, mmm it's so good, i need to go tell rorick the gardener about this delicious treat. rorick is my special friend among the staff, he tells me he's going to tell me a great secret about grandpa once the time is right but he hasn't yet. we love to laugh and gambol, even though i sense a darkness behind his eyes. i can't find rorick in the gardens. rorick where did you go? dinner is delicious tonight. ---------------- |
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Feb 5, 2016 07:46
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being tutored by mr crookshank in the abattoir behind the hedge maze, i quickly unwrap another delightful werther's originals to help me stay focused on the nutrional properties of the human lymphatic system, which i can't remember why i'm studying that topic, and today of all days, and where did ms henry go off to, i did so love ms henry and her gentle mien?
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Feb 5, 2016 07:51
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a trip into the city (it's the middle of the night) (woken up by grnadpa carrying a strangely waxy and yellowed candle)and i'm about to ask granpda why we put all the orphans in the cage-cart in the back instead of up front in the carriage with us but he drops a small satchle in my lap. it's a dozen werther's originals, this polite girl will ask no more questions on this comfortingly tasty ride back to the manor.
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Feb 5, 2016 07:54
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coming above deck, i spy our mansion in the distance. the journey has taken such a long time (how long has it been? a month? a year?) and i eagerly await the smile of my dear clara. when we dock, however, she is nowhere to be found. father is there, and hands me one of those candies of his. i pop it in my mouth and father is telling me about all the wonderful treasures i found, including a golden ring he pulls from my finger. how amazing that i found treasure in my size. i must be a great explorer, as father says. i wonder if a woman would like an explorer like me. dinner tastes nostalgic and reminds me of fresh linens for some reason.
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Feb 5, 2016 07:57
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a wondrous and unsettling discovery in the attic today while exploring with langston, the stable boy. a quilt, with a center emblem of a screaming skull, and knit with gray stringy hair. remembering grandmother for some reason (the smell, it's the smell of her but it's different, it's the smell of fear, abject fear in the last moments of a miserable life) i call down to grandpa. he pops his head up through the trapdoor and his eyes flicker (did they blink sideways i've never seen them blink sideways before, or maybe i've just never remembered, they can't have blinked sideways, it's grandpa, this attic is dusty) before he invites us down for a scrumpious werther's originals, and if i finish my assignmetnts early i can have another later tonight as we sit in the great hall, oh thank you grandpa!
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Feb 5, 2016 08:02
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when i was staying during the summer in my grandpa's house as an young'un, i was exploring the his large house in the deep alabama. i too also remember my grandfather giving me werther's original. when he would catch me trying to go up to the attic, he would stop me and give me that sweet candy that shaped me into the adult i am today. what can i say? i will never forget the day when i accidentally read the papers one of his folders titled, "DESTROY". when he discovered me, he gave me a werther's original which i devoured instantly. that day he taught me the best lesson i've learned, how to keep a secret. the buttersweet taste of a werther's original will always be a taste i will never forget. as well as his list of war crimes committed and his acts of treason. |
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Feb 5, 2016 08:04
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an image in a children's book (the binding strange and fleshy), sitting on the shelf but unseen ever since the wetnurse left, of a child happily sucking on a werther's originals from granspa while a dozen demons shriek and gibber and dance and delight in the fiery background behind the unsuspecting child, so dear and so precious with the innocent visage.
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Feb 5, 2016 08:06
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approaching the sculpture of Laocoön in the gardens, i see a small burlap sack and a folded paper. i pick up the paper. " i give these you in undying affection. forever yours, langston, the stable boy" langston's handwriting has changed, it reminds me of a script i;ve seen scrawled in large dripping letters on the walls of the guest cottage, langston;s handwriting is not like this, it's tight and compact and belies the nervous earnestness of a lower class boy addressing a higher personality who nevertheless serves as a peer. langston hasn't been around come to think of it in weeks, but he knows how i love my wertthers originals, and as i open the small burlap sack and spy the treasure within, i whisper a silent thanks for his gift and know that i will see him soon, and ask how he changed his handwriting so aburptly.
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Feb 5, 2016 08:12
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goldmine. |
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Feb 5, 2016 08:47
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werther's originals are the poo poo, yo
Pizzatime fucked around with this message at 18:05 on Feb 5, 2016 |
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Feb 5, 2016 11:54
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grandpa only gives me 2 of them a year. when he is finished training me, i will be in charge and then grandpa will regret his thrift.
Somebody fucked around with this message at 15:01 on Feb 5, 2016 ---------------- |
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Feb 5, 2016 11:55
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as the moon aligns itself directly over our heads, shining through the bare, twisted tree that hides us, i slide the final brass piece into the grim statue. grandpa slips me a werther's original for a job well done. the world will be quiet now.
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Feb 5, 2016 14:59
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we walk, single file, down the stone corridor. i briefly turn my eyes upward in an unguarded moment, catching a glimpse of all that ever was and will be in the hearts of men. my head begins to seize until a strong, gnarled hand places itself over my eyes, shielding me from the forbidden knowledge. i feel another hand slip a candy into my mouth, and smell grandfather's aftershave. these robes are comfy! i wonder where we are going.
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Feb 5, 2016 15:11
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skipping merrily to the hound stables on this gray day (when did i last see the sun), i think about what grandpa said as he handed me a werther's originals. "take care that you suck on this, so that the hounds don't see your wagging tongue and mistake it for a treat" he joked. i reach the hound stables. "hullo archie" i call to the caretaker, "hounds sound hungry today" and pop the precious hard candy back in my mouth. he turns mutely towards me.
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Feb 5, 2016 15:13
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i could hear them behind me, gaining on me as i ran desperate through the foggy and dimly lit streets. shoes forgotten in my haste, my bare feet beat against the damp cobble as i fought to keep moving, each step a potential trip. i knew the village though, i rounded a corner and squeezed through a narrow gap into a dark alley, i lay there for a moment as my pursuer passed, trying to control my breathing, i knew they would return soon. i elected to double back on the way i'd come. as i emerged i darted around the corner and ran straight into a large figure, it was a local police officer, i was saved! "constable pemberton!" i exclaimed "you have to help me" he looked down at me with a smile which grew twisted as he sloshed something around in his mouth
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Feb 5, 2016 15:27
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i spent most mornings in the gardens, planting flowers on the various new mounds of dirt that dotted the landscape. When i was done i would hasten to the gazebo where mother was always waiting for me, her twisted hands gripping the old shovel that she would use to raise herself to greet me. From beneath her veil i would hear her voice cracking, croaking out something inaudible. She could always tell i couldn't hear her and so she would point the shovel at one of the mounds, towards hands trying desperately to claw their way from the earth. It was always then that she would give me those little hard candies. To this day the taste of werthers originals brings me back to those halcyon days of my youth spent on the family estate with mother and our ever changing cast of servants.
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Feb 5, 2016 15:41
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Grandpa was always highly egalitarian in the way he treated me and my younger brother, with one rather eccentric exception. His invitations for weekends at the manor were invariably extended to the both of us; he welcomed us both with the same dry, musty embrace; he was equally permissive--indeed, supportive--towards our penchants for playing and exploring in the catacombs beneath the family graveyard. Yet when it came time for a treat, he was most insistent that Devon be given one of the curious herbal lozenges from the antique urn secreted in his old armoire, whereas I was allotted a golden-caramel Werther's Original. At times I was rather jealous of my brother's apparent preferential treatment, but as we were expressly forbidden from trading I eventually grew used to this arrangement. It was explained to us that Devon who, unlike me, shared Grandpa's blood type, needed special care to ensure that his internal organs remained healthy and "nice and compatible," as Grandpa put it. And it did not hurt that the Werther's candies were ever so rich and satisfying--a sweet consolation, I thought, for being held ever so slightly lower in Grandpa's esteem.
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Feb 5, 2016 19:36
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My grandfather conducted himself in a highly questionable manner but was luckily able to counteract this with his knowledge of which sweet is traditionally marketed as being passed down by an older gentleman to a young relative. |
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Feb 6, 2016 15:35
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| # ? Apr 30, 2024 12:10 |
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barfdog posted:goldmine. |
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Feb 7, 2016 16:04
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