The beam swept across the water. The waves glistened in the darkness, tiny bumps of light in front of the tall tower. Her eyes had been scanning the glistening waters ever since the sun had set and she had realised his boat was not moored at the jetty with the others. Guy and Tom had walked along its wooden boards, dropped their eyes and tugged their caps when they'd seen her, but they'd made no mention of him. She'd almost called out after them, asked them where he was, but stopped herself before the his name could push itself from...
Your blood is the light in the sky and the night is the new blood replacing the old.
That darker blood you receive each day is the sweat of the earth swallowing itself with huge, heavy gulps.
Sure, time is running out, but it always comes running back in.
Time, blood, day, night.
Everything new is old again.
Isn't that the song?
Isn't that a song!
Thick dusk is coming,
whetting the waves
with you,
whetting the waves
with you.
Cat's pupils narrowed to slits as she glared at the falling snowflakes apprehensively. Snow, her long-time adversary, had returned at last. She'd dared to hope that after their last encounter, the freezing menace had been dealt with for good, but she knew better than rest easy.
She cautiously sniffed the air, preparing herself for battle. Snow threatened all she held dear, all that was precious and good. If Cat was unable to defeat it, it would spread over all the earth.
Her claws slid out of their sheaths; they were sharp, but not as sharp as she would like; the...
She'd always come running when I called. At first I only called her when I really needed her, but after a while whether I needed her or not didn't matter; I started to call her just because I could. I didn't realise I was doing it until she called me on it one morning. I'd woken up at 5am and the first thought in my mind had been her, the smell of her, the taste of her, the feel of her. It hadn't occurred to me that she might still be asleep and that she might not appreciate me calling...
He set the plate before her. It was barely covered, a thin, fatty slice of what looked like baloney slapped alongside hard, molding bread. It had been arranged carelessly, lazily, and the boy snarled at her before he left, sliding the table back with his exit as he walked away, back into the kitchen. Sighing, Alina pulled the plate towards her chest, her elbows banging against the table as she slid the meat off the plate and diligently placed it on the bread, bracing herself for the stale taste as she chewed purposefully. The apartment was empty, the walls barren...
I remember when I was a kid. I sat on the edge of my father's car, waiting for him come home from his walks. I would go there to think sometimes, puzzling over my day. But today, 18 years later, I sit in silence.
I'm not waiting for anyone.
I'm thinking, though.
About my father. He's dead.
He doesn't go on his daily walks anymore, never will. I climb in the car, embracing his scent, closing my eyes and taking it all in. I live alone, no wife, no children. But they won't meet their grandfather.
I loved him. He...
A paradigm shift: when you entire worldview changes. When something reaches into your mind and bends the part of your brain that had decided this was how you were going to live your life. You came across something that makes you think. It's impossible to get out of your head and all of the sudden you realize that you are not who you were before; that your life is not going in the direction you wanted it to, but you're okay with that. In fact, you find yourself preferring this new way of looking at life. You realize that the...
Darling, I have done this to you
but I've done this to the rivers, too
I have ravaged mountainsides and
leveled acres of forest
I have seen your look before
in the wildlife of the eroding canyon
in the shattered shy, the moon and sun
sharing the shrinking space.
Find something to do
and do it
before I ruin that,
too
I stand here alone on the grey, stone foundation of a tiny island. Save a few patches of dark green moss clinging to the rock face, I am the only living thing here.
The waves crash against the rocks, rocks that have withstood their attacks for thousands of years. And then there is me, struggling to keep my footing. As I am battered by wind and ocean spray, I slowly make my way towards the only landmark within sight. A light house. Not an old abandoned one, but a pristine strong one.
It's all there is. A small shelter from...
There's somebody standing in the corner of my room. He tells me things. He tells me to do things. Sometimes, he tells me other people are lying. He tells me not to tell anyone he's there. And I listen, because he's scary. But I think they're starting to figure out.
They see my eyes dart his way when he speaks. They see my confusion when I try to separate the voices. They see my hesitation when he tells me they're wrong. I think they're starting to figure it out, and I can't let that happen. He told me I can't....