Description
Excerpt from The Velvet Horn
But the drought would pass. The elation he had felt a moment ago would last. In all its mystery it remained like a promise ful filled. Today they would climb the Peaks to witch a well. Suddenly this too seemed more than a common necessity. He saw this as part of the mystery, that a man could take a forked switch and find water underground. Not any man. You had to have the gift. And his Uncle Jack had it. He must get him out of bed.
He turned back into the room, towards the bed where the large man lay spread - eagled upon the shuck mattress. The night heat had not abated. It stuffed the att1c. It encased him like a fevered skin, soaking up his uncle's whiskey sweat and breath. Lucius looked down upon his kinsman. The long cotton underwear was open to the navel. The hair grew out Of the dark roots, bristling up his belly to branch out upon the chest in thick curly mats. Tenderly Lucius felt his own smooth chest. It was immaculate, and he turn ing eighteen, a man with all but the proof. Well, he was ready for that now. He stood quietly by the bed, breathing out against the Offensive Odors. TO think that this man, Jack Cropleigh, was his mother's brother, and she so gentle, yet supple as hickory, carrying her head high like his father. And Jack and his father first cousins, too. How much kin can you be to a man? To look at him now none, at least ln looks. His father, dark, erect, his every movement one Of authority. And Jack so full Of ?esh, almost gross. Going to bed drunk, he guessed, made him seem so, for he was not gross. Just full of ?esh. Suddenly it seemed a bad thing, surprising a man in his sleep. He leaned over and shook him. Wake up, Uncle Jack. Sun up.
About the Publisher
Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com
This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
But the drought would pass. The elation he had felt a moment ago would last. In all its mystery it remained like a promise ful filled. Today they would climb the Peaks to witch a well. Suddenly this too seemed more than a common necessity. He saw this as part of the mystery, that a man could take a forked switch and find water underground. Not any man. You had to have the gift. And his Uncle Jack had it. He must get him out of bed.
He turned back into the room, towards the bed where the large man lay spread - eagled upon the shuck mattress. The night heat had not abated. It stuffed the att1c. It encased him like a fevered skin, soaking up his uncle's whiskey sweat and breath. Lucius looked down upon his kinsman. The long cotton underwear was open to the navel. The hair grew out Of the dark roots, bristling up his belly to branch out upon the chest in thick curly mats. Tenderly Lucius felt his own smooth chest. It was immaculate, and he turn ing eighteen, a man with all but the proof. Well, he was ready for that now. He stood quietly by the bed, breathing out against the Offensive Odors. TO think that this man, Jack Cropleigh, was his mother's brother, and she so gentle, yet supple as hickory, carrying her head high like his father. And Jack and his father first cousins, too. How much kin can you be to a man? To look at him now none, at least ln looks. His father, dark, erect, his every movement one Of authority. And Jack so full Of ?esh, almost gross. Going to bed drunk, he guessed, made him seem so, for he was not gross. Just full of ?esh. Suddenly it seemed a bad thing, surprising a man in his sleep. He leaned over and shook him. Wake up, Uncle Jack. Sun up.
About the Publisher
Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com
This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
Details
Publisher - Forgotten Books
Author(s) - Andrew Lytle
Hardback
Published Date -
ISBN - 9780265632246
Dimensions - 22.9 x 15.2 x 2.4 cm
Page Count - 389
Paperback
Published Date -
ISBN - 9780243286881
Dimensions - 22.9 x 15.2 x 2.1 cm
Page Count - 391
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