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Hange
Hesione
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They lifted her out and
she screamed
her silence, curling
up like the child she was -
she is.
It's too warm; I can't sleep. Water in the air presses down on the sheets and water (of another variety) that beads my forehead escapes into the air. My legs swing like pendulums out of the bed, then I stand unsteadily on my feet.
(more)
"Ten minutes." I call out, glancing at the computer screen.
"Any more than that," Mom warns, "and you won't get any computer time for the next three days."
"Okay!" Really, anything to start using that ten minutes.
When those candy-precious minutes are used up, I look longingly at the(more)
I've always envied those whose mind and body are one, whose movements are tuned to their thoughts and they just... fit. I envy dancers, who can stretch their beings into forms unknown, who tell themselves to do something and their selves carry their orders out in rippling muscles and(more)
temples crumple into dust and things want to move
but they can't
so they tremble instead
All there is
is the pounding of hearts
the most jagged of breaths
shrieking muscles, shrieking tendons
eyes watering in the cutting wind
diaphragms squeezed tight in palpitating fear.
     She steals into dreams, not steals dreams themselves. There is a difference. The definitions of the two "steals" differ.

     Actually, there isn't a difference in this case. What is in someone's, anyone's dreams is secret and guarded closely and by all rights private.(more)
     "Griffith, Griffith!" I call out, scrambling over drying reeds and wet rocks. My little brother and his friends turn around. "Wait!"

     "What, Rhanis?"
(more)
     "Welcome, welcome!" Mama exclaims. "Please come in!"

     While Vaughan gives the family silk slippers to wear in the house (a Sinese tradition that Papa brought back from his travels there; I think it's rather practical), I can get a good look at them. There's Nantlais(more)
who knew what difference a single chromosome could make. thousands of years of difference, of mistakes, of lessons learned, of lessons forgot. thousands of years of children and stew cooking over fires and spindles gently twisting fragile wool into strong yarn. thousands of years of glancing eyes, flashing ankles,(more)
It whispers in the early, sleepy morning.

It ceases its trembling and gains volume, solidity after a few tries.

You rise and fall, the sun is at its peak and your voice is strong.

But all things come to pass. It is as deep as the(more)
     I don't know exactly why, but my eyes are watering.

     Actually, I do know, but it's a lot of things. Maybe some dust motes lingering in the still, sunlight-pierced air, and maybe some mold growing between the clean white shower tiles (my bathroom door is open(more)
I pick up a cracker slathered with a dollop of dill cream and topped with a piece of smoked salmon. Only two other people are at the table currently, and they're both engaged in animated conversation. I take a bite.

He enters and takes a seat. Exactly five(more)
They probably don't understand how I can't forget everything else going on. There's a story I'd like to write. Some bubble tea sounds really nice. I have a powerful urge to read something nice and action-filled and deep and fantastical and engrossing enough for me to discard my worries.(more)
     Summer thunderstorms - erratic, humid, gusting, mercurial, warm, driven.

     Sounds like me.

     Perhaps that is why I like them so much. When the world can't take it anymore and has to lash out with blinding blues and flashing whites and(more)