 |
|
The Topic of the Day is: Wednesday, August 09, 2006 | |
| w | w |
And at last I manage to get on the internet. Yes, I'm back home, things are fine. Just a little busy. I am extremely lucky in that I have snagged some free wireless while I'm at my mom's place, but it's on and off and Blogger is particularly slow today so I shall have to be brief Very excited--measured/saw my new apartment and it is just as nice as I remembered. I came back home and decided to lay out all my furniture and stuff, so, for your viewing pleasure:  shiny, yes, blahblahblah. relatively to scale too. Anyway, I got the library job (yay), had successful doctor and dentist appointments, went swimming a few times, and started reading a book for my lit course (haven't made much progress yet). I plan to do some packing tonight but apparently I need to run some errands with stefi and then pack for the conference tomorrow. I also wrote something. Yay. It's been a while, and this is... interesting: Fog laced cold tendrils over a pale horizon. Gray smoke seized her, insidious and desperate, grip akin to iron. Smothered her. Fingers closed around her throat, muted ash against rosy, glowing flesh. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t dream. Dream smoldered, hot and shifting beneath a burnt out husk. An ember died. Only cinders were left, wet ashes stirred by cold sighs, night’s mist intertwined with woodsmoke. Dreamsmoke, fading and dying, softly pearlescent as moonlight hovering in the air. Translucent skin shimmered beneath the grey touch of early light and icy fog. Dew beaded along her throat, diamond bright against pale silver and faded cream. Breath flushed her cheeks to rose, pulse fluttering along iridescent crimson and blue lines. Heart sounded, the barest echo of white noise dropped into trembling silence. Couldn’t dream any more. Weakness chained her limbs, dragging even the flesh of her fingers, weighing down over her naked ivory bones. Eyelids were heavy with the salt tears of so many nights, burning with sleep. Yet she had slept for ages, and through ages of mist and smoke she wanted only to dream in brilliantly hard lines, edge over crisscrossing edge, black against white. No black or white here, only grey. Grey sky, grey earth, grey trees, grey snowflakes, gusting and ethereal. Pallid skin tones faded in the mist choked world. She no longer needed to breathe—fog permeated her skin, until inside and out, bone and flesh she was mist and grey and broken. Fog burned her nostrils; she choked against it, dying, drowning in smoke. Futile actions of her lungs made her recoil against bonds that in sleep had risen over her throat. Straining broke skin—she kissed the air, blood lacing her teeth. Lips parted—blood spattered down her chin. Ruby mingled with diamond, brilliant smear across her throat. She seized its hot strength, a candle in the dark, between her teeth. Blood was sweet juice on her tongue, wild and incandescent. Taste beyond crimson, smell beyond carnage—fingertips touched scarlet, and burning color, thick as mud, ran along the grooves of her fingerprints. She left her paintings on glass walls, gestures blurring the blood medium. Slow at first, weakened and thirsty, and then frenzied and dancing, crimson left throat and body in arcing signs upon the clouds, graffiti bright. Fog hung like soggy streamers after a thunderstorm, bitter wet tendrils sticking to eldritch signs carved in corners. Scarlet boiled in arctic wind, turned to ebony, blood to ink. Fingertips drank deep of the fount, sought shadows in the inkwell, found bold jet beneath pale fragile skin. Edge over edge, sigil marked, black to drown a noisome pallid world, black to shatter empty husk and dissolve brittle shell. She was the pen, she was the page, she was the writer—she breathed, throat trembled with sound, pale skin lifting and falling. Ivory paper rippled, waves chasing each other along the blank surface. Ink ran down her hands. Fingers covered in it, sticky with bold plot and potential verb, palms crossed and recrossed with a flood of ebony and adjectives. It ran down her wrists, a silent brilliance. Patterns crossed, edge over edge, diamonds and squares, all sharp corners that cut peach flesh away to bone. Bone was white page again, ink ran deep, letters and words forming under a broken sea. Bold markings shimmered on the wavering surface. Silence so deep it fell through to the other side of sound—beyond noise and vibrations. No earthly tremor spilled itself into the air. No faint sound ghosted from blue lips. But no frozen mist clutched her ankles either, no grey sky. Silence, and all the world a poem on the infinite expanse of page... |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
My Other Writing Sites | |
|
 |
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Webcomics | |
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Stories I'm currently working on. | |
|
|
***Tbook1 (Time and Chaos, needs a new name, needs to be edited) ***Book of Sun (Just needs to be edited. Tis a Nano novel) ***Book of Whispers part 1 (Does not jive at all with part 2; needs to be rewritten to fit and to have less suckage) ***Book of Whispers part 2 (Needs some rehaul editing, needs some loose ends tied up, needs to fit) ***Book of Whispers part 3 (Needs to be finished... then needs to die o.o Not sure if I need a third part in the series) ***Dium's Story (Needs a point, progress, anything... needs to be integrated into Tbook1, since that is what it is a part of, mainly) ***Trio Story with Jackie and Louise (Maybe we should get together and work on this, guys) ***Demon Story (This is working out pretty good so far. I like the plot, it's a bit convoluted, and the characters are interesting) ***New Witch Story (It's only 30 pages long, dang) ***Dragon's Voices (This has SO much potential! wee!) | |
|
|
|
|
3 Comments:
OMG I want a library job too - tell me how you did it!
*pounce* I miss you!! Ohhhh how I wish I could afford to come out to Madison, but... I'm broke. :( However, it *will* happen. I don't know when. But, it will.
mm, beautiful poetic stuff there. joy.
Post a Comment
<< Home