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I'm still trying to write. I've written a few fannish bits and pieces that I may put up a little later. For right now here's some more of my post-apocalypse with MAGIC! story.
Spirit
Mist rose around them as the boat settled against the shore. Anne could hardly see two feet in front of her, the world white and gray in the near light. The boat creaked beneath them, the steady dip-glide of the river stilled by the bank beneath the bow.
Anne stepped out of the boat, stumbling a little as her feet dipped into the muddy shore. She turned back to look at the girl who had saved her, whose name she still didn’t know. Fog whipped around the girl’s young face; she seemed to shimmer and flow with it, as light and insubstantial as the world that drifted around them.
“What’s next?” Anne asked because it was the easiest thing to say, the easiest feeling to unravel from the knot in her chest. It was so good to have someone to talk to again.
“You can do whatever you want,” the girl said, her voice a whisper, the words ripples in the air. “But this is as far as I can go.”
Anne froze, heart leaping in her chest. She’d been so close to something that she desperately wanted and couldn’t explain. She was so tired of being alone.
The girl smiled, her face soft as if she knew, as if she’d looked inside and plucked out all of the things that Anne couldn’t say. “I can’t go and you can’t stay, not with me,” she explained, voice gentle and calm. “The world is a different place, now. I wish--” she sighed, the sound like pebbles in a stream.
Anne nodded, her mouth shut tight. She looked down, her eyes fixed on the way her borrowed shoes looked, buried in the mud, dull grass bent around their dirty white edges. She could already feel the cold morning dew seeping in.
“Goodbye,” she heard. A whisper, a plea. She looked up and the girl was already gone, swallowed up by the fog. She’d left nothing behind.
Tears (Previous) < - > Taste (Next)
comments at http://liptonrm.dreamwidth.org/50994.html.
Spirit
Mist rose around them as the boat settled against the shore. Anne could hardly see two feet in front of her, the world white and gray in the near light. The boat creaked beneath them, the steady dip-glide of the river stilled by the bank beneath the bow.
Anne stepped out of the boat, stumbling a little as her feet dipped into the muddy shore. She turned back to look at the girl who had saved her, whose name she still didn’t know. Fog whipped around the girl’s young face; she seemed to shimmer and flow with it, as light and insubstantial as the world that drifted around them.
“What’s next?” Anne asked because it was the easiest thing to say, the easiest feeling to unravel from the knot in her chest. It was so good to have someone to talk to again.
“You can do whatever you want,” the girl said, her voice a whisper, the words ripples in the air. “But this is as far as I can go.”
Anne froze, heart leaping in her chest. She’d been so close to something that she desperately wanted and couldn’t explain. She was so tired of being alone.
The girl smiled, her face soft as if she knew, as if she’d looked inside and plucked out all of the things that Anne couldn’t say. “I can’t go and you can’t stay, not with me,” she explained, voice gentle and calm. “The world is a different place, now. I wish--” she sighed, the sound like pebbles in a stream.
Anne nodded, her mouth shut tight. She looked down, her eyes fixed on the way her borrowed shoes looked, buried in the mud, dull grass bent around their dirty white edges. She could already feel the cold morning dew seeping in.
“Goodbye,” she heard. A whisper, a plea. She looked up and the girl was already gone, swallowed up by the fog. She’d left nothing behind.
Tears (Previous) < - > Taste (Next)
comments at http://liptonrm.dreamwidth.org/50994.html.