( cut for mention of drug use and dark themes )

The front door opens and closes ( Read more... )

Four flights up, Skellig remembers.

(He hates stairs. Hates them. They're nothing but endless and hollow and he can hear his boots clattering against the concrete (linoleum?) too loud can't hide and they just plain hurt. Flying is much more sensible, but he can't do that, here. Not here, not where they might see him.Five flights up, Skellig ( Read more... )

She is sitting on the park bench beside him. But she is not speaking.

(She is not really there.)

"Doesn't bother even though it should. Who is he? Who are you?"

His fingertips are stained with the scent of his earlier meal (fresh fish is the best fish) but the smell isn't what's bothering him.

iron and salt and sweat

and ash and earth"Go away ( Read more... )

Oh I wish, I wish I was a fish...

Who is he?

Who was she?"Should be bothered, but not ( Read more... )

There is a child on the swing-set in the park, singing:

"Oh I wish, I wish I was a fish.
Swimmin' in the deep blue sea, Nothing to keep me from being free.
Not a bird in a tree, not a yellow bumblebee..."

He is no older than six, no younger than three. He is not four.

(He is also not like Them.)
Skellig is here merely to observe. It is what he ( Read more... )

A siren is wailing.

Faint, distant haunting but growing louder.
Louder.
And louder still.

The sound is audible through the walls, through the plaster and concrete and glass, echoing down the corridor as it bounces from window to door to wall and back again closer now just a few minutes it will all be alright away and then it cuts short, silent ( Read more... )

He sits perched upon the grass, watching them play.

They are all small (they always are) and bouncing around with energy, full of life, full of grace and spirit all of them want to fly you can fly just jump higher
and one of them dares to jump, tiny feet leaving the earth.

(nobody ever understands used to that ones like him)

or why they are ( Read more... )

He doesn't need find much.
He doesn't ask want much.
He doesn't take beg much.

( He doesn't get much, either. )

No noteslitter on the ground

No directionno need just need 27 & 53

No glanceswell some...

( every mile further )