She didn't open her eyes at first. She couldn't; she wasn't present enough to make those kinds of decisions. She was merely aware, and that only dimly, but brightening by slow degrees. Her first awareness was the coolness around her. The coolness was not unpleasant, but it was punctuated here and there with little icy pricks, like walking in tall thistle. The pricks of icy cold she did not care for, not one bit.
Her next awareness was that the cold prickles were wet. On the heals of this revelation was that the cool was also wet, not it a sopping way, but in a damp way, like walking in tall thistle in the early morning. This picture, this sense of walking in tall prickly thistle in the cool and damp, filled her awareness for a few moments. Then, as awareness began to solidify in to consciousness, the image began to harden into a memory. She remembered the walk, the thistles, the prickles, the cool and the damp, and she knew that they had happened. But what, she wondered, had happened next, and where was she now, that she still felt the same sensations as she had on that walk?
She decided that the only way to be sure was to open her eyes. She did so slowly. Anyone who has ever had to preform this task amid uncertain circumstances will understand why. There before her, sure as anything, was tall thistle. And it was damp and cool, and there were prickles on the leaves, and there were icy little dew drops dripping down from the leaves into her damp, but not sopping shirt.
Only, there was no shirt.
As she began to consider this new revelation, this absence of expected clothing, another awareness came sharply into focus. A small black eye was very, very close to her eye. It blinked in its feathered head. It belonged to a chicken.
Startled, she jerked back an inch, and the chicken did likewise. It regarded her coolly, first with one eye, and then with a quick twist of its long neck, it stared at her with the other. This went on for a few moments, the chicken staring, she not moving at all.
Then the chicken said, "You're stark naked, you are."
She could not at first, or even after a few moments of careful consideration, decide which was more shocking - that the chicken has spoken to her, or that it was absolutely correct. She was laying among grass and thistle in the morning dew without a stitch of cloth upon her person.
"This," Alice said, "is going to be one of those days."
eta I didn't proof it, so excuse my typos.
Hello everyone! Going to try to catch up some tonight. A big [COLOR=FF0000]WELCOME[/COLOR] to any new members to our thread I have missed! Also would like to thank atrueb00 who has graciously offered to be a contributor. Please forward any new events, ideas, or good links of value for our member page to atrueb00 to share.
really gonna do it!!!!
