In dreaming ( Read more... )

The way will not be easy.
You must rest when you can.
There will be moss to lie upon,
soft against your cheek.
You must thank it for its succor.
The streams will be gentle and cool.
Wade into the deep water, and float.

Eat the sun-ripened berries,
caress the bright flowers,
look at the impossible sky.
Remember it when there is
rich soil in your ( Read more... )

Her bones cracked. She would groan, but the mud caked in her mouth, down her throat. Her tongue sluggishly pushed at the muck. It tasted sweet. She clawed forward. She clawed upward. She clawed through. The wet earth felt silky between her cramped fingers. When she broke the surface, there was cool water ready to caress her with reverence. Yes, ( Read more... )

On the seventh day after the tithing was due, Maeve awoke with a heavy weight shifting from her chest to her stomach and back again. It made her seasick. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and firmly set her sore feet onto the solid ground of her modest home. Her hands wrung the bed sheets. She splashed the coldest water onto her face. Her ( Read more... )

The entrance was welcoming enough. There was plush seating, even if the fabric was a little worn. There were colorful carpets, and warm colors which contrasted starkly with the grey stone outside. Here, the space felt cozy, not at all intimidating like the looming walls surrounding the estate. The receptionist had a sunny disposition and a ( Read more... )

Bannister Effect The ground came up to meet my heels in a lover’s rough encouragement, propelling me along at a speed I never achieved before. I’ve been running my entire life; if the women in the songs can achieve the impossible feat of escaping an impending fate, then so could I. If a nymph can sing and dance without chastisement, then so can I; ( Read more... )

Surrender Under Protest

REMOVED FOR SUBMISSION

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So concludes my second story for the Portfolio Challenge.

Please check back after the weekend for voting information!

Anxiety is a Trick of the LightI remember our birth, but she does not. I came forth in the smothering heat, the crushing wet, and the vibrating howls. My pliant bones were her pliant bones in the hazy uncertainty of new sight, and in the cool of the deep nights. I grew strong when she felt no warmth, or when she felt the pang of hunger, or was ( Read more... )

The youngest of the Whitecoats has wet eyes the color of a wintry spring evening. She will sometimes give me small things, often her wet eyes will slide another way when I need them to, or she will let information slip just loud enough from her mouth to another Whitecoat’s ear for me to understand. Her slate grey eyes are nothing like my companion’ ( Read more... )

I clasp my hands tightly into my lap and focus on the blush of blood rushing to where my fingers are not pushing into the flesh. My hands are like the bunnies that were born in the yard next to mine that summer when I was nine. Except you are not supposed to remember when you were nine, because that was before you were here in the white room, with ( Read more... )