|| f o u r t e e n

[veritaphobia]

We invent our own mythology, most of the time. Mysteries leave clues, and we tell a story that puts them together. There's actually quite a bit in the bookshops--I've been reading them all month. But, well. Not everyone who gets here writes a book. So, I thought--stories were originally passed down by word of mouth anyway. The network might be a

Comments

voice;

[brobeforehos]

[that's all nice and lovely, Alan, but why do you post this - posts come up with ping! sounds and wake Mae up before she has to be up (which is...later) - and there's a silent rustle of covers being pulled closer.]

There was once a boy named Alan who was in the habit of not sleeping when the other people were sleeping and then his fabulous housemate almost considered spiking his dinner with those little pills that knock you out. Except she doesn't, because she's a nice girl that way...

voice;

[veritaphobia]

The nicest girl I know. [ a beat, all quiet. ] You don't have to be up yet.

voice;

[brobeforehos]

Flatterer, you made your bed, now lay in it.

voice;

[veritaphobia]

Actually, I think it's usually the other way around.

[ smiling a little, ridiculously, and still talking in that soothing tone like Mae stands a chance of falling asleep while listening to it. ]

voice;

[brobeforehos]

[yes...that's a nice voice, alan. you'll be forgiven. eventually.] Details...they're all just - [yawwwwn] - details.

voice;

[veritaphobia]

There's always room for details later.

[ quietly - ]

Good night, Mae.

voice;

[brobeforehos]

Hmm? Yes...

[quietly - murmured]

Keep talking.