{"Reading in no way obliges us to understand" - Jacques Lacan... This post have three three-hundred-mono-paragraphs for @vermillionfox's FoxTales contest. This drawing-sketch is rather interesting to say the least, just wanna say that before I move on... Contemplated putting Weather Girl's "It's raining Men" for today's music-aide, but decided to limit myself for now... Hallelujah... Today's music-aide: Barophobia from Spooky's Jumpscare Heaven OST.}

Drawing by the lovely @vermillionfox

- Haze -

Ladder rungs each irk with the pressing feet, but ultimately supporting the weight given. Hands reaching out to the cold breezing air that whistles alone, it gracefully enjoyed every sway going through the chasms between the fingers. Yet finally grasping upon the ladder's platform, her mouth grunted but the body managed to reach out to the surface. Slouching forward and legs firmly planted on the last ladder rung, her eyes fixated on the sights around her - tracking every little detail. Over towards a great distance lie the undying wall of smoke, a haze that was firmly planted despite nauseously floating about, ever-moving together in the self-same motions and proudly still despite the odds. Hands stacked upon each other, the head found comfort in the new position and so a smile cracked on those lips. A long day spent alone in the perpetual gust of the haze, enough to make the rags of her body to sink down hard! But for the eyes to see the stubbornness of the erring haze, front-row seats almost, and see it still standing still soundly resolute was something for her lips to perk even wider. Yet her lips perked up for a differing reason, a differing reason that would banish the haze to place away from here - perhaps its own death as it must suffer moving. And as her lips perked up, the sunlight finally breached through multiple weak spots and made holes in these spots thought once impossible. However, disbelief destroyed beyond care as a ray of sunshine graced her face as she continued to watch the haze simmer away without a single mumble. So, the ladder began irking its metallic coughs with each rung being stomped on in tight pace with heavily tough love following suit from her boots - another spectacle.

- Raining! -

"It's raining life, hallelujah!... Ah, the sweet sweet christening of water upon my flaky ærs skin. Where art thou been, good liquid that all life universally have adored without a care in why they have done so? Thou been stuck in the prison-esque clouds way up and up in the skies, yet what makes a cloud tick that your view of it makes it a good ally to be with? Thou been stuck up there in the sky and waiting to make a sweet love to a dried up field, that certainly is a romantic reason but not one human can afford - surely thee can foresee that? Yet maybe thou been around the World to see the very other beings that occupy the pale blue dot along with us, certainty of an even more romantic reason to finally fall on us and not anywhere else. But, o my beautiful rain, do not fret as I mean not to judge your direction nor autonomy in life, for why should I control what cannot be in my control - thus why worry about i at all. O my beautiful rain, with the million collective pellets that makes up your family along with the careful procedure to wet the dry grounds without flooding it is a perfect one. But not impenetrable as I even don't want to admit but must sadly comment upon, yet only a rare occurrence do I dare even see you fail at times and or times when you overdo an area with it feeling muddy or slippery to step upon. However, I am above these petty concerns my beautiful rain; the one and only sparkling wetness sourced from the skies above that bless me with your undying love. For now, must I leave this post for my terminals..."

- Barophobia -

Off somewhere across the great concrete jungle with the high rises scraping the skies in their monotone fashion lied something which her eyes just couldn't pick up on. Perhaps the dot so contrasting with the monotone drab colours that paints the landscape that it is worthy of not only her attention but the rest of the city if they were to humour a look outside for once in their city-life. Maybe the staring down on the ground is insincere and devilish than practice so purports out to the rest of the World who haven't seen our low hung face of which we lack a reason to hung them so low. Yet maybe the looking down aspect is a mere distraction that results of long cruelties left unchallenged or slowly unveiled to the suffering head that it must now burden knowing it has been there all along but now chose the day its grand opportunity to them. But in another way could they be all slumped for a conscious reason other than the modern alienation from even their own species that seeing another face is too mesmerizing and life-frightening when the looks of each other sever. So tell the World below that marches about the street with their legs dragged and arms slumped; tell the lady who so eagerly chases and tracks your motion about town with her eyes alone; or maybe even scurry off elsewhere as to finally lift off the pressure from such a sight from their shoulders and be able to not fear flight above. Whatever you shall do, surely for the better of all of us; as nobody can fathom wanting to float above the ground despite their infatuation with comic-book heroes nor even a struggle for constant eating due to the energy lost in flying about.

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Two things:Whoa, slept in the middle of writing this and the procrastination monkey took its sweet time this entire weekend. Couldn't get stuff done despite me having such great rewards for doing o so little! So I give thanks and grace to Fortuna, giving me a rest truly deserving and something to lull me back to the life of activities - for she ain't no dumb Mother of mothers.

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