ad astra | scene, somewhere

  The air was thick and close, and the restless wind tossing the treetops did little to relieve it. The earth rumbled with the reverberations of a distant summer blitzkrieg, and every so often a quicksilver vein of fire would race from the darkened clouds to strike the horizon. She leaned out the open window,…

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intermezzo | scene, somewhere

rain and wind, lightning and thunder, snow and ice, dawn, dusk and moonlight — days dance by and become years before i realize they are gone. small whisper-green leaves drink sunlight greedily and strengthen into a roaring chorus in the treetops, only to weaken, drooping in a final defiant blaze of color before they drop,…

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fragment | v

“hello, trouble.” “we’re using nicknames now? very well. hello, goner.” “why goner?” “why trouble?” “i asked first.” “fine. because you are.” “in what way?” “oh, come on. don’t tell me you’re going to play oblivious now.” “i’m not playing anything. i’m not even pretending to know what you’re talking about. i just asked you a…

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fragment | iv

“you know, you don’t have to keep doing this.” “doing what?” “explaining.” “explaining?” “explaining situations. reassuring people. what do you think they’ll think?” “who said i thought they think anything?” “you did.” “no i didn’t. when?” “only for the past twenty minutes.” “what?” “every time it even remotely could come up as a question you…

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fragment | iii

“… it was one of those moments when your heart gives  a wrench and you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe, and all you can manage to say is … ‘oh.’” “and?” “and … what?” “and what is the point?” “what do you mean, ‘what is the point’?” “what sort of reaction were you hoping…

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truth’s stranger than fiction … if you word it correctly

once upon a time, there was a girl who was very sleepy and liked coffee and books and ruins of castles or abbeys or things like that, and music. that was a lot of things to like, but she managed to find time for them all. anyhow, once upon a sleepy monday, she was even more…

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fractured fairy tale

she had the sort of disposition rumored to turn princes into frogs, and a face to match. soured, they called her, or shrunken — like a rosebud caught in the cold and frost-burned before it had a chance to bloom. unlovely was she, and unloving. grasping, shunning, temperamental, self-absorbed — the complete antithesis of what a…

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he who has ears

it was a weird night the wind moaning in the branches of trees silhouetted by a scant-full moon passover night when the blood ran and the wine flowed when the angel of death had turned his face away and we were saved memorial supper eaten, torch in hand we marched to the garden, well-earned rest…

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