I am looking out the window of my tiny house in Michigan and watching the snow pile up on the road.
I won't be going into town today, and I don't mind at all.
My dog is in a ball at my feet. The heat is on. I'm wrapped in a blanket. I feel so lucky in this moment to be alone here, to feel safe and to feel like I'm home and there is nothing to be scared of.
I think this morning I will maybe go back to bed. But I think later I'll read a bit, and...
The raven sat and contemplated the traveler beneath the moon's harsh gaze. She struggled onwards, leaning heavily on her cane, cloak pulled tight against the bitter cold. Any moment now, she would look up and see her fate sillouetted against the silvery orb.
Just then, a cloud passed between them. The sudden shadow caused her gaze to flit skyward, but all she saw were cotton clouds outlined by silver light. The harbinger of death waited for her to notice him, but once again her eyes looked earthward, focused on the path before her, now brightly illumined by the heavenly bodies....
"Saranghae."
His words made my heart stop.
"What did you say?" I whispered, not daring to look back at him.
" I love you Hye Jin. I said I love you. So please..Come back. Be mine." Sae Joon reached for my hand, but I quickly slapped it away.
"No! I..I'm not good enough for you. I have to leave. I have to get out of here." I stepped towards the plane entrance and held back my tears.
"You can't please!" Sae Joon fell to his knees and hugged my leg.
"Joon..Please don't make this harder than it needs to be....
Suddenly everything was silent, at the death at night as the moon shined upon me. I stroll through the streets peacefully exploring the beautiful scenery of London as suddenly I hear a loud screech "OOO" there he was high up in the tree looking over me, his face focused aggressively over me as he stares me down from a distance. I freeze as a cold breeze brushes against my skin a sharp shiver runs down my spine in fear. My heart began to bet rapidly as i saw him ready to prounce, i take off bolting at full speed as...
The dream was better than waking. I floated, all the past troubles seeming to dissipate before my very eyes. Luke was nowhere to be seen, which was a relief, because in days past he had haunted my dreams mercilessly. I noticed that there was no one else in my dream, just a thick, white mist. Like a feather bed, i laid in the unusally substantial mist, in a mystical dreamlike state. I saw a shape, a dark figure coming through the fog. It was Nyxie, my facility director. Her red hair floated like me, but she kept to the ground....
It was foggy, full of promise for a wet and drizzly day.
As she looked out to sea, deliberately pushing away the gloomy thoughts threatening to take hold, her thoughts wandered to those out there.
Not the ones who still had blood pumping round their bodies but rather those who never made it back to dry land.
Boys and men lost, loved by mothers and sweethearts. Trapped in the wrecks of ancient ships that were now just tourist sites for the seasonal divers.
No such visitors today. Summer was over (had it ever really arrived?) and a new season was...
The moment she walked into the room, I knew I was in for a wild time. Dressed to the nines, head to toe in the most wonderfully tailored bespoke suit, wingtips made from the most exquisite black leather.
She wanted me to find her sister. She had gone missing months back, and recently, the client found evidence that she was still alive. The police didn't want to look into it, said that the case was closed. The sister had ties to the mob. I got out my gun, and went to the hideout she told me about. Apparently, they were...
Of course, Heather was twisted. Everybody knew this except Gene, so of course he was the only one who ever professed his love to her. Except Heather wanted to leave him for just this reason; who would act unabashedly and intentionally weird if she did not want to be loved for it? Heather, certainly, wanted to be loved for who she was.
The two of them were watching TV. Good-natured, his loopy grin a chipper wave at the world, Gene turned to Heather and said, "Darling, I will make you a sandwich! Stay put, don't move a finger." She looked...
Pleasure. Burn. They're the only two words on the whole page - in the whole book if he was honest - that he had read and actually remembered. The rest was a jumble of names, bad descriptions, inplausible mixes of action and consequence.
Pleasure, the word just rolled off the tongue, almost like a cat unfurling itself and stretching lazily, purring as it spots some new distraction.
Burn, more akin to an explosion, though with the same purring quality, it flooded into his ears a lot more passionately than pleasure did, filled his mind with images, tortorous landscapes with dark...
She sang like a ghost in a fog.
Dew on the saxophones,
Rain on the drum kit.
The napkin read,
"Remember, it's the 1900's."
It was always almost dawn,
never fully light.
The fog never lifted,
the ghost always whispered.