quote:Growlery growl'er-ee, n (English; cf. Dutch grollen, to grumble)
A retreat for times of ill humour. This term has largely become obsolete, which is strange, given that so many people seem to have a place to go when they are in a bad mood - a place to be alone and think. It's similar in meaning to the Latin-derived sanctum sanctorum, with the added connotation that the individual in question is going to the place to be alone while upset.
[This message has been edited by mikemunsil (edited August 07, 2006).]
Posted by TMan1969 (Member # 3552) on :
Her bedroom was dark and the only source of light formed a halo around the dark curtains. When Graham walked opened her door, the light from the hallway flooded in. She sheilded her eyes, and took a drag from her cigarette. She sat up slowly, and hoarsely demanded why Graham had interrupted her, "What do you want?" "Well, I thought I'd see of your okay," Graham shuffled his feet,"and I am getting hungry, when's supper"
"So that was it, your hungry" Lela took another drag, and a stream of smoke escaped her nostrils,"I'm thinking, and all I needed was some snot nosed son of mine to disturb me. Go make a sandwich, or something."
Graham sighed, and turned red. He should have realized not to disturb his mother while she was in her cave. She had alot to think on since his father was late paying the alimony and welfare was threatening to lower her cheque. Sometimes she worried so much, she cried herself to sleep and really Graham wanted to make sure she was still alive.
Posted by The Colonel (Member # 4136) on :
The smell of old books coaxed it's way into her nostrils as she stepped out of the rain into the soft light of the small bookstore. The old brass bell jingled as the door swung closed, shutting out the cold dankness of the outside and she was transported to a different place entirely. The tension began to melt off her shoulders as the cold left her. As she strolled into the maze of shelves, not so much reading titles as drawing comfort from the old tomes, her worries and stresses faded under the power of this sanctuary.
She plucked a book at random from a nearby shelf and retreated to the back corner of the store and fell into a lumpy, dustfilled armchair. A sigh of relief passed her lips as she plunged into whatever story fate had chosen for her that day.
Posted by swimmingatlast (Member # 4187) on :
She fells the water's warmth enveloping her as she makes her way to the deep end of the pool. Pushing off the side of the pool, she feels the water move across her body washing away the cares of her day. Soon the rhythmic splash of legs and arms colliding with water drown out the demands of deadlines met, and appointments kept. Back and forth she glides gaining speed and serenity. Swimming to the edge, she lifts herself out of this welcoming womb, leaving behind the worries that brought here.
Posted by trailmix (Member # 4440) on :
Half an hour ago the shed was filled with stale air and a thin layer of dust. Its been a while. Things were going good for a bit. Sean thought it would work out this time. He attended the AA meetings twice a week like the judge ordered. But things unraveled as soon as he got comfortable like they always did.
Stupid. Should have just walked away. At least I didnt hit her.
His gear was on the shelf in the box marked "Boxing," like he left it. He had to kick aside an empty trunk and put the lawnmower on the side of the house to make room to hang the heavy bag. Its heavier than he remembered. Maybe he was just getting old. The duct tape around the middle of the bag was still holding up. His body, well, that was a different story. The hand wraps were white once, long ago. Now they held a potent musk and a dingy grey tan color. He checked his watch one last time before he strapped on the gloves. A couple stiff jabs and a right bomb sent the bag swinging. It jerked and heaved with every impact as he produced a flurry of hammering blows. His punches have lost speed but not power and form. 45 seconds later Sean sat against the shed wall gasping.