Teaser Tuesday!
This is from my new project, and it's very rough. It will only be up for the day, and then I'll have to take it down...
I glance around at the platforms, looking for the others. Cecilia’s hair glitters like copper wire as she leans over a thin horizontal railing on her platform, looking down at Riley. Emily is on another, her back to me as she rocks from heel to toe restlessly. Edgar is on a third, directly across from me, standing straight and staring down. And then his eyes, calm blue, float up and find mine, and he smiles.
There’s this game where you all hold hands and one person squeezes and you pass the squeeze along and the feeling of your own action making it back to you is strange and wonderful because you realize you’re not alone, you’re always touching something. Everything is connected.
I look across the arena at Cecilia and Emily and Edgar, scattered like our purple posts, forming our own boundary, and that’s how I feel. Like a small pulse is being passed between us, nerves and excitement and a kind of pride for our brother down in the square. I imagine he feels the pulse, too, because he straightens, taking a deep breath as he cinches the armor, the necklace glinting at his throat even though it’s cloudy.
Something is off.
Three arenas. Three contenders. Three cages.
But what goes in them?
I glance around at the platforms, looking for the others. Cecilia’s hair glitters like copper wire as she leans over a thin horizontal railing on her platform, looking down at Riley. Emily is on another, her back to me as she rocks from heel to toe restlessly. Edgar is on a third, directly across from me, standing straight and staring down. And then his eyes, calm blue, float up and find mine, and he smiles.
There’s this game where you all hold hands and one person squeezes and you pass the squeeze along and the feeling of your own action making it back to you is strange and wonderful because you realize you’re not alone, you’re always touching something. Everything is connected.
I look across the arena at Cecilia and Emily and Edgar, scattered like our purple posts, forming our own boundary, and that’s how I feel. Like a small pulse is being passed between us, nerves and excitement and a kind of pride for our brother down in the square. I imagine he feels the pulse, too, because he straightens, taking a deep breath as he cinches the armor, the necklace glinting at his throat even though it’s cloudy.
Something is off.
Three arenas. Three contenders. Three cages.
But what goes in them?