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<blockquote data-quote="Tonguez" data-source="post: 9651390" data-attributes="member: 1125">he found it half-buried in the black muck of the river, where the low tide drew the cities breath away, baring its ribs and detritus to the fingers of its most desperate scavengers. The boy felt it hard and cold in the silt, long as his forearm and carved from fine ivory, with holes drilled along its length and a sculpted mouthpeice at its end. The flute pulsed as he gripped it, as if remembering a heart that beat deep beneath the waves, his fingers spreading so naturally along its contours.That night, on his pallet of rags beneath the bridge, the boy dreamed of water — not the brown, sour stink of the river, but a black sea under a vault of stars swirling overhead as if tossed by an angry squall, and shapes vast and monstrous rising just beyond the edge of his vision.&quot;Blow, little root in the mud&quot; the voice was beautiful as a song, immense as the ocean, as it slid into his flesh &quot;give your breath to my bones and I will be your voice&quot;That is when the boy raised the flute to his lips, his hearting thumping as loud as a war drum, his fingers working the holes and his ribs aching as his entire soul strained to fill the notes, shrill and high as a scream....</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Tonguez, post: 9651390, member: 1125"] [I]he found it half-buried in the black muck of the river, where the low tide drew the cities breath away, baring its ribs and detritus to the fingers of its most desperate scavengers. The boy felt it hard and cold in the silt, long as his forearm and carved from fine ivory, with holes drilled along its length and a sculpted mouthpeice at its end. The flute pulsed as he gripped it, as if remembering a heart that beat deep beneath the waves, his fingers spreading so naturally along its contours. That night, on his pallet of rags beneath the bridge, the boy dreamed of water — not the brown, sour stink of the river, but a black sea under a vault of stars swirling overhead as if tossed by an angry squall, and shapes vast and monstrous rising just beyond the edge of his vision. "[B][COLOR=rgb(226, 80, 65)]Blow, little root in the mud[/COLOR][/B]" the voice was beautiful as a song, immense as the ocean, as it slid into his flesh "[B][COLOR=rgb(226, 80, 65)]give your breath to my bones and I will be your voice[/COLOR][/B]" That is when the boy raised the flute to his lips, his hearting thumping as loud as a war drum, his fingers working the holes and his ribs aching as his entire soul strained to fill the notes, shrill and high as a scream....[/I] [/QUOTE]

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