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May. 30th, 2005

The lizards dance in the dreamtime. They do not dance in the real world, but by their head-bobs, the quick flick of the tongue, one can tell they dance in the dreamtime. And they remember that they can dance. Their quick movements, the scuttle of feet from rock to sand... they remember when they could dance. She did not dance in the dreamtime. She refused the very idea of the dreamtime, did little Redhand. And so, she did not move like a lizard, although she was of the lizard clan. She got the most stubborn look on her face whenever other people mentioned dreamtime, in denial of all that it could be and all that it could mean. She loved lizards, though.


Inspiration: I was thinking of dreams, but really, no inspiration.
Story Potential: High.
Finished Length: Short story.
Notes: Fairytale structure. Some research on aboriginal culture necessary.

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penthius

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