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 Posted: Sat Jun 04, 2011 8:44 pm
It was Bentley's first day out of the house--well, Vincent liked to think it was. He'd been to too many appointments already. It was Bentley's first day out of the house--without having to see a doctor of some sort. His father couldn't believe how many different doctors specialized in infants. Honestly! The young man had opted to take his son to the park while his fiancee rested--he hoped she was resting anyway. He was never quite sure with her. He was holding on to his small son with one arm, the boy had decided that riding on his father's shoulders was the best way to get a hold of the man's hair.
He'd been right. "Mine! Mine mine mine mine!" the infant crowed, tugging at strands of his father's hair. At first, at each tug, Vincent had winced, but the headache had progressed, and he had gotten to the point where he could ignore it, as long as he wasn't counting how many times his head throbbed. Who knew infants had such strength?
The park was a nice one, filled with modern art, with a field of flowers in the background. There was a cement artisan fountain in the center of the playground. The slide itself was a piece of art. It was in the shape of an old fashioned toy wagon. The slide had been fashioned so it was the handle. Not too far away from that, there was several cement blocks painted and shaped carefully so they resembled the type children played with, that when studied, spelled out; Barton Park.
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Posted: Wed Jul 20, 2011 10:17 am
Chick! Shhhk... Chick! Shhhk... Chick! Shhhk...
The sound was coming from the small form of a short brown child and the camera around her neck. Ever since the first time her mother had brought her here, this had been Chailai's favourite park ( at least, favourite one that was free ). It had all of the perfect places for the girl to take photographs, whether they were of herself, her feet, her hermit crabs, or anything else she had decided to take to the park that day. Inspired by dolls she had heard about on television, the girl had today brought with her a shabby porcelain doll that Trois had picked up for her at a thrift shop. The pictures she took with her polaroid camera were impressive for her age, but the amount of film she was going through was phenomenal.
She heard the sound of the babbling child from high above the pair, at the top of a stack of cement blocks that were painted to look like children's alphabet blocks. Her heart fluttered merely at the idea of infants, bouncing from her current place and ducking over the side of the cement block pile. Aiming her camera, she found the two of them, smiling brighter at the realization that they were, at the very least, members of the same experiment.
Chick! Shhhk... Chick! Shhhk...
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