It is easier, sometimes, to do that which you would rather not do, when confronted with something you want to do which is difficult, or which, for one reason or another, intimidates you. The difficulty doesn’t even really matter, in the end. It’s the intimidation. The fear of doing that thing, or of not being … Continue reading Substitute
Tag: writing
Koé’s Hair
See The Green Lady I got in trouble with Mommy, and now I’m afraid. I don’t want the green lady to go away. I don’t think Mommy should want her to go away, either, but sometimes I don’t think Mommy thinks about what’s actually good for her. I think she thinks too much about what other … Continue reading Koé’s Hair
The Mountain
I started today writing a story — and then a song came into my head, and I decided to try to write that out instead. It's not perfect, and I don't know that it's finished, and I can't show you what it sounds like, but here are the words nevertheless. I’ve been wand’rin’ up the … Continue reading The Mountain
The Greatest Good
See Beautiful. Is she still herself? Elisa wonders this, now, in the back seat of her car. After Mr. Myriad’s ministrations, she found herself too exhausted to drive the streets of a city she didn’t know. Her own town is so, so much smaller. The difference between the two is like that between an infant and … Continue reading The Greatest Good
Beautiful
Elisa is nervous, because she has come to be changed. She isn’t nervous because she doesn’t want the change, but rather, because she has wanted to change so very much for so very, very long. She is also nervous because the room is full of people much richer than herself. She can tell by their … Continue reading Beautiful
In the Aerie
I have spent my whole life in the company of my mother’s kindred. Of all the life in the aerie, only the plants do not share her lineage. They are, instead, kindred of her brother Krrgotst, for base plants would not survive up here, pressed against the ceiling and eternally tousled by the winds that … Continue reading In the Aerie
I’ll Try
Last night, I had a dream that I killed my own daughter. In the dream, I walked down a hall of doors. There were so many doors that there hardly seemed to be space for the walls between them. Some of them were open, leaking out their light and the sounds of activity therein. In … Continue reading I’ll Try
The Stone
Marc had a magic stone. He knew it was magical, when he first saw it, because of its impeccable beauty. By some force, natural or supernatural, it had been formed into a perfect sphere, with sides so smooth that, though it was but mundane rock, it reflected the light and the world as clearly as … Continue reading The Stone
Part of It
She wanted everything to be perfect. Not in life, or in everything, but just for this one party. If she could make that happen, maybe other things would start to follow. Maybe, if she made this party go well, she could start to make the rest of her life go well, too. So Gina put … Continue reading Part of It
Booker’s Garden
The collection of pots and planters that Booker keeps on his balcony is not, by some metrics, impressive. There are those who would hesitate even to call it a garden, since it is not planted in the ground, and perhaps even because it takes up such a small place. None of that matters to Booker. … Continue reading Booker’s Garden
Daydreams 