"Peach
or nectarine?"
"Doesn't really matter to me. They're pretty much
the same thing."
"..."
"Why are you staring like that?"
"I never realized there was such a thing as a fruit
Philistine."
Another "enlightened one" is sharing his
philosophy with all who will listen. "The afterlife is illusory.
You have only this life, only the here and now."
I smirk at my partner. We'll probably drop this soul off
in Hell just for the fun of it.
"Did you ever wonder why women dress up to attract
men?"
"Not really. Why?"
"Because in nature, it's the male that has to put
on the display to
prove himself to the woman. She's responsible for raising the kids, she gets to
be choosy."
"I like that."
"Figured something out today."
"Lay it on me."
"Life really is a balance. One must not get caught
up in the minutiae,
but one cannot look at only the macrotiae."
"Despite your unconventional use of language, I think
you're on to something.
I picked up the leaflet, curious. It was for rehab, and
the coach had a quote on it. "I used to do speed.
Trust me, it's the quickest way to get nothing done fast."
Maybe I'd call later.
She browses the antiques, wondering at the fact that
another year has
passed. Where've they all gone? Not that she hasn't enjoyed each waking moment
with her beloved, that they don't have a wealth of shared experiences.
It's just that a century passed in a blink.
"Catching up on ConverStory
made me reach for my GinGins."
"Those being?"
"Gummy ginger
candies. But not like chewy gummies, more like soft hard candies."
"For a writer, I'm really impressed at how poorly
you can describe something."
Time to face the music. Catch up on things not done. The
only guilt felt is from within; no one is judging. It's within my purview to
take a break or to keep my nose to the grindstone, whichever is best for my
mental health at the time.
The same goes for you.
Get up, go to work, come home. Lather,
rinse, repeat. No time for fun, too tired for hobbies. Her heart aches for
more, but she can't place her finger on it.
Until the day the stranger holds out his hand.
"Wanna see something neat?"
Does she ever!
She bares her fangs and brandishes her fists at all who
attempt to place her in a box. "I am paradoxical
and multifaceted and untameable and loving and caring and cruel and mean and warm
and cold and funny and stupid. I am simply me."
Eris enjoyed her little games with the mortals. She'd
plant a seed amongst the aristocracy
and watch it germinate and grow all the way to the lowest rungs of society. Her
current project was to see how quickly astraphobia
became treated as an admirable trait.
We whisper to each other mentally, remaining connected
though we never see each other. The other deities, the other immortals, the
others. Humans make excuses for how our sempiternal
flower of life appears on the stones. Some of us laugh, others weep in pity.
He came upon the boat in the middle of the desert,
eddies of sand built up around the gunwales. A tiny little sailboat, completely
intact, the only clue to how it get there the name WAYFARER.
"The web is like an adventure."
"Not the same thing."
"But I can see the same places that you want to
take me to, and while in my pajamas."
"If you want to wear your PJs once we get to the
top of Mount St Helens, you do you, but we're still going hiking."
Each dragon clan preferred certain habitats, often
reflected in their personalities. Lush jungles, craggy cliffs, airy aeries.
Blacks lived in volcanoes above xeric
plains; harsh and unforgiving, but very beautiful when one opened up and got to
know them.
"He's bold. I like that."
"You mean presumptious."
"Don't change my words. He just knows exactly what
I want before I do."
"Another way to look at that is he takes away your
agency."
"It's rather nice to not have to decided between
vanilla and chocolate."
Death wraps himself in tenebrous
robes, waiting in the shadows to perform his duties.
She sees him and smiles, her soul a beacon of light and
acceptance. "Cannot have life without the other," she whispers,
drawing him close.
The apprentice asks the major difference between
wizardry and sorcery. I let the archwizard ramble on for a while before
interrupting. "Wizards use spells written in stone. We sorcerers are able
to revise and
adapt on the go, making up whatever we need."
"Can I pick your brain about your videoth?"
"Sure. Shoot."
"How do you thound tho clear?"
"Sit up straight or stand, project
from the diaphragm, make sure to enunciate."
"Ith it really that eathy?"
"Really really."
"Thankth for the encouragement.
She flails and stomps the ground. "But I'm a natural.
Why do I have to practice?"
I manage to suppress the exasperated sigh. Barely.
"Just because you've the ability
doesn't mean you've the strength. Talents have to be honed into skills."
She finally nods.
"All this sumptuous
decadence...it's almost too much."
"Especially once you realize it's maintained
through eloquent mendacity,
convincing the ignorant to believe the improbable promise of rewards that will
never come to fruition."
She finally opens her eyes, though the beginning
of the new age was years ago. It takes time for goddesses to wake, and she is
no exception.
Concrete greets her, humans have become drones, and
animals are subjugated. She prepares to un-quo the status.
"Why do you like cats?"
"They're soft, they purr, and they cuddle so
nicely."
"But they're psychopaths with no affection
for others."
"No. They're just choosy. Don't want to waste their
time on someone who won't appreciate them."
"Point taken."
"Experts" say that you need to connect to others,
that you need to lose yourself in the tides of humanity. I prefer to be an isle of
personality. Distant enough that only the bravest make their way to me, the
ones worthy of me bonding with them.
"What are you doing?"
"Hurm, whuh?"
"You're drooling. What are - oh, I see. He's
cute."
"Yeah he is."
*sigh*
"Nice eyes, good build, lovely hair."
"A rear end you
can bounce a quarter off of and a back meant for nail marks."
"Vulgar much?"
"Sometimes."
Agatha examines my garden, praising the nightshades and
foxgloves. "What are those?" she asks, pointing at a cluster of tiny
blue flowers.
"Scorpion grass."
She arches a brow, her mouth twitches, and I know she
knows. I can't help that I like forget-me-nots.
Thunder roars across the valley, waking me. It's midway
between the witching hour and dawn, when the world is most quiet, allowing me
to hear the grumbles of elementals within the storm.
They break the dome that
kept me trapped, and I smile. Free once again.
Everyone raves about my lemon
shortbread cookies. Most of my co-workers go back for more. I just sit back and
watch as the DMT kicks in, driving them all a little mad before the arsenic
does its job.
"Would you prefer a book or an apple?"
"Is this a trick question?"
"Maybe. Applicious
is a ConverStory
anthology, but Google also says it's a chocolate-dipped apple treat
company."
"I'm sure I'd enjoy reading the Tweets, but I don't
think I can eat them."
"So, apples?"
It's not the warhawks that concern me. They're obvious
in their intentions.
It's those who present themselves as speakers of truth,
but their words are merely a facade for their bellicose
desires. THEY are the ones that should be punished.
Just the thought of
him makes my pulse race.
So gorgeous, so sensual.
So in need of my claws down his back. The sight of him
makes my flesh quiver.
Makes it hard to watch while cuddling with my husband.
"Wow. What did you season
this with?"
"Garlic salt and smoke."
"It's amazing."
"I mean, I guess. It's just back to basics. I like
to let the meat talk for itself."
"About that..."
"What?"
"Can you ask your victim to keep it down?"
