When she woke next, he was gone. Curiosity overcame caution, and she crept to the bank of the stream, peering over the slope to see if she could make out what enticed and compelled him so. There, in the bend, a small depression, in which was carefully laid a large, black stone, with amazingly flat, matte surface. She spent some time looking at the stone, trying to figure out what about it made it so different, so special, so magical and unique. Over time, she found the courage to touch it, fingers dipping lightly into the water and disturbing its […]
today’s quote, on courage
timely quote. funny how that works. Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen. – Winston Churchill
narcissus 3
autumn was near, and it was becoming hard to walk. he didn’t seem to notice. when she would sigh and ask for a rest, his lower lip would jut and his brows would lower and he’d look over his shoulder toward the stream as if remembering something important…. she was pretty sure he knew by now that doing so spurred her to stagger to her feet and try to stumble a little further. she could no longer see a piece of flesh without his markings. her body seemed one great tattoo of his odd words, sibilants and sighs that she […]
a small smile for consideration…
you know, the funny part of this is that, regardless, the work is being done for them yet again. i chuckle, and have a genuine smile. does it matter that what they would refuse when offered they will take when it is done and available? no. not at all. not here, anyway.
interesting evening and a reading…
a little bird sent me a whisper that brought at once a chuckle and a sigh.
finding the way… re scrytch
the following email was sent today to those who have been active on the scrytch mailing list in the last six months:
narcissus 2
summer came. for some time, she had followed his zig-zag footsteps. she began to notice little things. things that, at first, didn’t seem to make sense. they would spend days roaming far afield, sometimes the mountains, sometimes the meadow, sometimes a hidden canyon. but no matter how far they roamed, he insisted they return to the stream each night. only by its cooing rush could he sleep. she noticed too the patterns, the pre-cursors, the things that signified the onset of the next spasm. sometimes, she forgot and her arms were criss-crossed with his happy reminders. she told herself the […]