Day 156

I'm not sick. I refuse to get sick, though I don't know how well my immune system listens to me. I've just been a bit sneezy today. I suspect winter is the culprit; we've been having a cold snap. Anyway, this is why you get another day-in-the-life of, not fiction or poetry. This evening I broke… Continue reading Day 156

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memory shelf (400)

once, i built a shelf. it was a wonky, shoddy-looking thing, hanging crookedly from the wall, haphazardly suspended by a combination of metal pieces and some thin rope harness. i recognized this even as i admired my handiwork, this first little achievement. the first time i placed an item on it, it toppled dangerously, swaying… Continue reading memory shelf (400)

consumption

it was years ago that your shadow began to follow me, slow at first and then chasing me with a greater velocity as time moved along. you needed my attention, thrived on devotion and trembled under dismissal. (tried to create weakness; remember you're not the villain of this story) and then you wilted, shadow attached to… Continue reading consumption

The Faux Landlords’ Act

It's been another six weeks since my last unusual encounter. The books continued streaming in, piled-up around the house in more stacks than I could possibly get through in one lifetime - only to stop as suddenly as they began. This evening, I'm late coming home from work; too many hours spent making very little… Continue reading The Faux Landlords’ Act

a voice (150)

they call me many things. seductress; a lure; creation ancient and modern. most lately, they call me magician. they accuse me of working craft that's incomprehensible, of possessing inanimate objects to animation and sketching out a story. (four-minute stories were my skill long ago, first struggled with, then mastered) and i follow you around, loyal to technology… Continue reading a voice (150)

another beginning (150)

the night draws closer to its midway point, awash in sparkles falling from fireworks and long slender flutes of a select drink. there's a hush in the air, one that's lifting as the clock ticks on, glittering drinks and shining lights keeping the night awake, keeping sleep at bay. the city isn't tired, yet. anticipation… Continue reading another beginning (150)

a rainy night (150)

she ran, heels slipping and clattering over the wet footpath. rain blurred her vision, melding streetlights and car lights into patches she didn't see until it was nearly too late. blisters had formed several streets ago, and she could feel the leather against her skin - now sodden, still stiff. not for the first time,… Continue reading a rainy night (150)