Best you don’t ask, what she has there
Urgent, shameless, fire, hidden without care
Raked under her nails, the sweat and dirt and blood
Yet there’s always room for more, just don’t disturb the mud
Whistling is beyond me. I’ve tried many a time.
Actually, I used to whistle when I was little, but for some reason
no longer. It’s a bit of a hassle, when one of your favourite songs has
taken root in a way that humming can’t quite abide.
Some days, the idea of work – the act of trading life for money – is so unbearably foreign that she can’t help but hit the snooze alarm one more time.
The blankets were removed from her. Her roommate was the worst. With a groan, she pulled her pillow over her head. “I don’t want to be in this economic system,” she said, voice muffled somewhere under it all.
Her roommate snorted. “Okay, you want to raise your own food? Be paid the same as everyone else for a different job than any of them are doing? What do you want to change?”
“Yeah. Let’s move to a farm.”
“Farms are for morning people. You were never a morning person.”
“Why do you have to make so much sense,” she whined, as her roommate took away her pillow as well, leaving her to be cold and nothing more. “Fine. Work.”
And work she did.
Once upon a time, he had wanted to be a wizard. Now he just wanted to be human.
“Not all wizards stop… uh, being human.”
“Don’t. Just don’t.” He didn’t want to hear his husband talking about this right now. He just wanted to figure out how he had made such a big mistake and get back from it.
“Take a breath. A better one than that, darling.”
It was funny his husband said that, as the man had always had a fear of horses. Now that he was a centaur, that couldn’t be good for either of them. Nevertheless, he took a breath. Horses had much bigger lungs. The structure of centaurs made less sense, now that he thought about it. There were the lungs in his human chest and then there had to be more lungs down below. He didn’t know what that meant.
“There you go. You still have hands, so let’s look over your notes.”
The wizard looked at his hands. Okay, it could have been worse. The two of them got to work on figuring out how to undo his accidental spell.
“Oh my…” They swallowed, staring out the window. “What- what did you do?”
She smiled at them, dropping her bag on the table. “Exactly what you told me to do!”
She was so ecstatic about it. They couldn’t believe it. They forced themselves to turn away from the window and look at her. “I told you to grab groceries. Not set a bank on fire!”
“But it was in the way!” She continued to smile, bouncing up and down on her feet.
“In the way of groceries?” They could have face palmed, but letting her out of their sight probably would be a bad idea. “How?”
“It just was!”
Nope, she certainly wasn’t ready to be let loose in the city. They would have to put their rehabilitation back to step one. They had been so certain that they were so far. Too bad.
She woke up, three months later, underneath that would-be called tree again.
Here was her dress. It felt terrible to be wearing it. The blood wasn’t dry, not at all. Carine wanted to rip it off, but she had nothing to change into and she had no idea where she was. However, she had the distinct impression she was dreaming at that none of this was real. She shut her amber eyes and tried to imagine that she was somewhere else, anywhere else, wearing something nice and fuzzy or sleek or something that was not covered in blood.
Opening her eyes, Carine noted that she had failed miserably. She was still where she had been. She was still wearing this.
And that voice. She knew that voice. It was the same one she hadn’t recognized before. “What do you want?” she shouted out, wheeling around to try to catch where it was coming from. There had to be a place. Yet there wasn’t any. She chewed at her lower lip. “Leave me alone!”
“I can’t do that.”
She hated to hear that. It made her heart beat faster. This had to do something about prom. She felt it, in the base of her spine. The pain she had felt before she stopped feeling anything from the neck down. She wasn’t dead. Was she? She had lived on from that day. It hadn’t been great, but she was alive.
Carine decided to do something about it.
Lori turned to see a man. He looked familiar, but she didn’t recall from where.
“Did you ever find the guitar girl?”
Oh, it was the boy who worked at the sandwich shop. Lori shook her head. “No.”
He held out a piece of paper. “But this is her, right?”
Taking it, Lori looked down at the girl with the blue striped into her dark hair, wire frames around hazel eyes, the intense look she had always had while she had been playing. Apparently she always looked like that.
Marie Thompson. Missing person. She looked at the boy. “Oh.”
And he looked as absorbed into this as she was.
Inexperience brings about its own particular charm that some might forget.
Never knowing until the moment that the epiphany occurs.
Nicer a feeling has never derived from such a lack in the mindset,
only the not and then having can give that moment one prefers.
Could it be that we all know? Then such a loss of accepted naiveté, replaced
entirely by the expectation that we all should know has brought
new weight upon the shoulders upon the world which faced
countless experience, giving us each a soft spot-
ever the perspective from the eyes looking up without the notions of the world unfought.
Keep your eyes on me, with those eyes so bright.
Something taken from the light
which elates joy from senses keen
and touches within the anger mean
to bring about a better mood
at least it does before its viewed
too close, that shine, eyes to the brim
it’s really to bright, now get it to dim.
No offense, I meant every word
and every compliment I know you’ve heard
is true and that I will not deny,
but such shining light can’t make me but cry
after extended periods of having to gaze
upon your splendour – my own eyes will glaze.
Normal parents hung up school awards or sports trophies. At least, that was what he had heard. His parents had decided to hang up the relics of every monster that he had murdered on the walls.
He hid his face in his hands. “Mom, can you… take those down? At least for tomorrow. My friends are going to be here and I don’t-”
She fixed him with a look that told him to look at her while she spoke, but his face was still hidden in his hands so he didn’t see it. So she had to interrupt him with words instead. “And hide how proud we are of you? How could you suggest a thing?”
He sighed. “I don’t really want to get into…” No, he couldn’t finish that sentence. He couldn’t tell his mother, a monster hunter, that his friends didn’t know that he killed monsters. That that is what his parents did too. “Oh, okay.”
Nope, he had to get his friends to want to go somewhere else instead. That was his only option to get out of this embarrassment-free. Or something.