XXXVIII.

And the darkness spoke to Lyra in a bodiless voice, an apparition whose language was feelings. So it said,The thing came from his shadow. Specifically his shadow that got cut off from him as he slammed the door too hard and fast. Mother opened the windows in the usual mighty struggle, coaxing the roses’ sweet … Continue reading XXXVIII.

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The Jacaranda Rain

The purple petals cried and I fell, worshipful of the mourning and the morning to come. There is a season for everything, and I suppose this one is for growth; realization that I am but the one in the infinite, sordid bloom. The wind lifted the branches heavy with bushels of flowers, dropped some, then … Continue reading The Jacaranda Rain

XXXVII.

How would that even be fair? Lyra just got here. Athlem told herself that as she approached the lifeless body, ignoring the traveling cloak that was always draped over her shoulders at her faintest shiver. She heard the stir at the stairwell but cared not: ‘tis only natural the rest of the household would rush … Continue reading XXXVII.

XXXVI.

She wasted no breath to explain, rounding the shack and cut to the backyard without much difficulty, for the fence was just as hollow as the man claiming responsibility of mending them. Anyhow, she went to the center of the yard and looked up to the crooked windows, three squares of light succumbed to darkness.So, … Continue reading XXXVI.

Waves

She was there first, she beat the waves. Her hand brushed the rough, splintered wood of the beachside rails before the urge of Poseidon crashed against ragged, stubborn rocks tamed by weather. The conflict roared and tumbled into a froth of old selves in sediments. Her sentiments? Untouched, her hand merely smarted as she continued … Continue reading Waves