What do you mean when you say, “car”? I don’t think that I know what this … thing? … is. Is it a machine of sorts that causes accidents, or what exactly are you trying to communicate to me when you say it was a “car accident”? Continue reading
What’s your earliest memory?
Do you mean when is my earliest memory? I mean, I suppose I would have to know when, like, from which existence do you want me to recall my earliest memory? Continue reading
And then, after making green, while floating among the Baubles in the purple moat surrounding her glass castle, She saw So Jeong in the distance, withering, and called to the Singing Leaves to send a message to the Listmaker by way of Ladybug.
It’s like I said—I’m not authorized to tell you anything. I will, however, tell you what I am authorized to tell you, if you accept it as truth or whatever you call it, my story. Agreed? Very well. What are your conditions? You can’t be serious. Even if I could answer that question—which I can’t—I would not tell the likes of you. Despite what all those others have told you the past few days, there are a handful of beings who could give you the inside scoop on the Listmaker, but they are all, if not more, elusive like the Listmaker. How do you catch one? Oh, please, what a pipe dream. Catching is not the right psychological framework. What you need is not a physical plan to CATCH one of these beings. Continue reading
There’s a place where, after the hours of moonlight, sunlight turns on directly overhead. Awake, the Listmaker scurries, hard at work, making list after list after list. Despite existing apart from time, the animals that live on the property keep him tethered to the various worlds that exist within time. The animal of choice is a small ladybug, or Ladybug, to which it is often referred. It’s a thing of true intelligence really, possessing the special gift of messenger, Ladybug rarely fails detection [awkward, I know, but I never resolved it before the end of the day] and when glanced upon, is always met with delight. A small muted ticking tocks over large across the entire worldscape of the Listmaker’s Ranch. Continue reading
[ continued from yesterday … ]
And then it was Silence’s turn to get to work on them. Framed in a deep cherry rests the stapled canvas slathered in paint depicting the scene of a small girl child seated cross-legged upon a deep Persian rug looking out toward the viewer, at something small on her left shoulder. In front and to the right of her, a kneeling male figure postured in a gesture of pleading or curiosity looks harmless. With only the back of his head depicted, knowing what he thinks remains impossible. Continue reading
Warm, nearing hot, the sun blasts through the unusually large set of windows that essentially creates the south-facing wall of the tiny attic space. Twinkles of light catch crusted pieces of dust as they are thrust from the place of their death into a new life, swimming through the unknown, toward an unknowable end. The direction of the light rays slice diagonally through the space and shed light solely upon two human figures. Continue reading
All he ever wanted was to consume her; all of her is all he wanted. Nothing more really. She had consumed all of his thoughts, as of late, and so, under the light of mischief, he plotted and schemed and felt utterly pleased with his new intention, his new delight. Continue reading
She stands and wipes at her brow. Sticky, a dark black substance dabs off on her fingertips. What. The. Hell, she thinks curiously to herself. She turns and checks the rest of her physical state. Disheveled, a foot not shod reveals the wiggle of her toes. That. Is. Good, she decides confusedly to herself. Continue reading