“The silence often of pure innocence persuades when speaking fails.”
- Shakespeare

Monday lunchtime, near the sheriff's office, on Main StreetThis has proved almost too easy. The clouds are rolling in, air heavy with the promise of rain, and I stand in my Danika body wearing an old coat with the collar turned up against the cold, jacket short ( Read more... )

Saturday, January 30th, eveningI'm not quite sure how I feel about tonight. Nervous, and happy, and a bit shy all at once, I think. After the business with Damien and Johnny I've felt my nerves have had more grounds - though it's more for Tess's sake than mine. I can just imagine what people will be saying about the Thiesses now they know about ( Read more... )

Sunday lunchtime, the porch of the General StoreOh Lord, if I never speak to anyone again that will be quite alright. I didn't go to church this morning - neither the abbey nor Laurence's church - because every time I think about anyone asking me about the past few days I go bright red. I can't believe I thought Dorian and I - oh goodness. It's ( Read more... )

The Dormouse
Friday afternoon

I opened against my better judgment.  Mostly because I gave me something to do besides wonder where the hell my husband is, and why wasn't he looking for me.

Everything here seemed familiar when I let myself in on Wednesday.  Like a dream I could almost recall.  The main room, the kitchen, the bedrooms.  (the basement, ( Read more... )

[Early afternoon, Wednesday, January 13th, day 227]
[The streets of Excolo]The cook yelled and threw a pan when I came sniffing for food, but the door wasn't locked and I slammed it open and out out out into the alley. More good smells out here but I don't stop; she's not chasing but she might so better not. Into the street instead, all sunshine ( Read more... )

Sunday, January 10th, mid-morningI put my umbrella in the stand by the door and then I go up the stairs, shaking the rain off me. It was a damp walk to church this morning. I've never liked January - it's always such a grey month, and this has been a grey sort of week for my mood, with Vale's wake on Monday. And then there was the business with ( Read more... )

Inside of a room is a cage, is a cage. It's made out of chain and glass. It's about forty feet high and three feet wide, and it was built to last.

Day 221, Thursday January 7th
As dawn breaks
The Pontarlier RiverI wake up in the dark with the sound of some deep instrument ringin' in my bones like music playin' down through my skull. I was dreamin ( Read more... )

Christmas Morning ( Read more... )

The holly bears a blossom
As white as lily flower
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To be our sweet Saviour
O the rising of the sun
And the running of the deer
The playing of the merry organ
Sweet singing of the choir

Christmas morningThe sun has risen slowly this morning, white thin light coming through a gap in the curtains. I yawn and turn over ( Read more... )

Day 205, Tuesday, December 22
The birth of the new sun
The Thiess farmMy mouth is sticky, and I realize I'm cold. I sit right up and there's sunlight streamin' down through the branches, dapplin' the grey coats 'v wolves. I stand up slow and quiet 'n wipe my mouth. My hand comes away gritty and red and I wipe it on my thigh, 'cause I ain't got ( Read more... )