A Weed on The Curb

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #188 . It's always dark in the mall that died; the seats feel gritty, the windows are blank and all the stores empty. There's one door open back behind the large department store I slip in and walk over the torn, glassy floor. Someone has filmed the life as it left, most people prefer it gone; consumption is always deadly, some moan. But I continue to walk through these laminate halls to remember the books, my friends, the lit windows... It's always dark in the last hallways; the hard seats left empty; I'll rest between starvation and plenty. The benches remain, the walls rot, and ceilings spread stains I close my eyes and wait. This is the first last stop at this station, open since devastation. Theoretically, with Thanksgiving past and a chill weekend to remind us it's no longer a lingering summer/fall combo, we're supposed to have moved on to decorating for Christmas. In the spirit of fiction, let's say that happened. Let

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #187 .  They come to us in cardboard; we stand them up together. Paper skin and silver bones and hair of green and brown and gold A dancer's reach One key at the throat, one knife in the door, one claw on the sill A glass princess spilled We lay them all in cardboard; we lay them all together. There is no packing or cleaning up stories before the last click A door shuts We've laid them all in cardboard; we've laid them all together.  ----- It's been a week. Our neighbors built a patio that is currently illuminated like a convenience store and which helpfully allowed me to watch a rat running along the fence, yelling at me the entire time. Trust me, rodent...I'm not coming anywhere near you. My dad is home from the hospital (yea!!!) & doing well and I feel...well, really, like this should be a stupendously garrulous note. Instead...I'm just going to say that I'm in the mood for comfort food reading. For stories in which peopl

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #186 . Sorry. Probably best to skip this one. On bad days I argue with the void: it is empty; I call it full of nothing made pathological; therefore it obsesses to possess mass, to be something arguing with the universe but shouting in the mirror black as starlit backdrop, as stars that fall deeper and deeper into time until they  drag everything into the void and are empty, wrung out of needing to have an argument and then we look at each other, deep in the black fallen forever of our gaze.  I wasn't going to post this week. But that probably doesn't matter...because here is a post. This has been a weird week and, in the midst of much more important things, my NaNo project just [temporarily] self-destructed. There will be a return to that project and I'm already sharpening the knives for it. Just need to let a little off-topic anger abate so that everyone doesn't get flamethrowers and a crazy 80's soundtrack. AAAAAAAAEEEEEIIIIIIIIIII!

A Sharing this weekend with The Sunday Muse #185. One blessing to break and one to take. Selfish offerings and self-denied boons A sacred mockery of profane recipes Holding out on all the echoed vows: It's just a counter, it's just a response. One blessing to break and one to take. Greetings and salutations from the home of OMG--WHY DID MY CHARACTER DO THAT? Also the home of WHY DID I PICK THIS STORY FOR NANO? I decided to tackle a story from a different angle and suddenly houses are exploding and formerly villainous characters are just insisting on a plot line of their own. And, btw, they'd like to not be the bad guy at the moment. Villains are hard for me. Possibly because I don't want to throw my own people under the bus. And so, here we are: Officially a fifth of the way through the NaNo goal and already lost control of the story. :) Hope your writing week is going well! Is anyone else in the middle of a long project?  -- Chrissa