Consider the following

The Sun of this world burns through the clouds of my dreams and before the heat of the day washes away the memory let us re-establish the clouds.

We were walking, well the focus was on her but I was also there. She had just recently undergone a pretty serious surgery against the desire of her will. The surgery was pain free and the recover time was instantaneous in her mind (in reality I think she'd been laid up for a couple of months, but wasn't quite aware of time). There were stories on the news about these kinds of people (people like her) but the stories made it sound like they were all natural like it hadn't taken this surgery to change her. I suppose you could call it cosmetic surgery. She had been turned into a faun. Not a strange or ugly faun but the kind of faun that you would expect to live here among us without anyone really being that upset about it. Part of the reason was her face was pleasant and comforting to look at. Not the stunningly gorgeous kind but caring gentle but not a push-over. She certainly was beautiful but in a more sisterly way. She had brown shoulder length hair and wore a well fitted light blue shirt that matched her fur.
I'm sure you're thinking, "Yea but what about the deer feet?" Hooves, actually. I would tell you that in a strange way they didn't seem out of place and you certainly wouldn't be able to tell that they were surgically applied. Her legs, if that's what you call them were much slimmer than I would imagine faun legs to be and the way she walked was not ploddy like is depected in fantisy movies. She walked without huge strides or overly regal like the narnia centaurs. If you were looking just at her waste up you wouldn't even know she was a faun. I don't know if the faun part was biological or robotic or some kind of combination that doesn't matter. What was amazing was as we walked down the street everyone looked but oddly no one starred and everyone smiled. Well one guy didn't smile but I think he was some kind of pervert.

We were walking into a residential area and looking around at the houses. It was a very architectually mixed neighborhood. On our left there was a brick building maybe a community center, it seemed to mark the end of anything comercial and the entrance into this neighborhood. The neighborhood reminded me of Laurelhurst in Portland. Lots of hills lots of houses lots of families, lots of trees. We were about three blocks in and on my left we (I don't know if it was she or I first) noticed a beautiful victorian house. It was a shade darker than antique white and had huge picture windows one the first and second floors. The front door was set one third from the left of the front of the house and the picture window took up another great portion. The porch was covered and the ceiling of the porch was a pale purple. There was a dusty light green trim and a light yellow trim. The house must have been 150 years old but is looked like it was recently remdled. I mean the kind of remodeling that sanded down the whole house to perfection and then painted with the finest detail. There was nothing our of place and the more I starred at it the more I realized it was the amazing house I'd ever seen. There was another part of the house that I can't stop thinking about so I'll just have to tell you. On the four corners of the house had a cap surrounded by trim filled with an amazing victorian style design. Like the swirly ones you see at anthropology or saks fifth avenue. These caps were about eye level on each of the corners and again they were unique but not odd. As a young man I never really appreciated houses our architecture and would have driven by this house my whole life never stopping to take notice of the detail. But we stood there and stared. I told the faun it looked like it dropped out of a architectural magazine and wasn't it funny that it was here in the middle of nowhere Amereica. I guess all amazing places have to be somewhere but we don't always excpect them to just jump upon us like that. It jumps at us in the way that rip van winkle jumps at something, dazed and drowsy while trying to take in a totally virgin vantage of reality.

We were admiring the landscaping with the circly cut shrubbery that you find in front of rich persons house and the small village of barkdust rocks and bushes all greenery no flowers. Some one called out to us from inside the house and asked if we wanted to come in and look around. The invite was quite cordial and being quite bewiched by the beauty of the home we strolled up the front steps. The house was beautiful and like any piece of art that becomes more beautiful as you look at it so did the house. It seemed like the colors actually got more vibrant the longer we looked at them but they (the whole house) had been hiding itself from the rest of the world for fear of being used in vain or just used without committment without love. We'll maybe the owner whoever put the work in the house felt like that, if he did he did a darn good job of communicating it.

We walked in and toward the voice wich seemed to be coming from the dining room...

to be cont'd