Yes, I know. I have already posted twice for today but sometimes… Sometimes there is a weight on the soul, an unspoken need to say something, anything in those quiet moments when there is no one to listen or understand.
I had a feeling come over me tonight. It was one with which I am familiar. It is the weight of the night, when even the air seems to push against the skin in an almost comforting way. I have had this feeling many times before, surrounded by silence and solitude. They have happened at different times, most often at night when the darkness creates a roof over the world, when it seems there is an end to everything and your standing just there…
I have felt it when I would spend hours alone, simply riding by bike. There was no destination, no plans, no understanding. Just movement.
I felt it sitting at the skating rink, watching couples moving through the dim light, a love song playing though no one seemed to be listening.
When sitting under the shade of a tree, hidden by shadow. When I watched the world moving and I was unnoticed.
In the depth of the night, while the world slept and I imagined I was the last person on earth…
There is a sadness here, a lingering echo of loneliness. Yet I could stay here forever.
Have you tried to imagine eternity? An endless nothing. No thought. No feeling, just the cold passage of one breath after another…
Lulu surged ahead, reaching the top of the next rise where she stopped, sides heaving and fur bristling. She looked at him at he reached her side. “Che is with her now.” There was an aura of unease surrounding her, making his own hackles rise in response.
“At least she isn’t alone,” he replied.
“True.” She looked at him with a savage look. “I didn’t anticipate this.”
“How could you? She is returning too often and the location is becoming erratic.” He shook off a chill which insisted on crawling down his spine.
Matching growls escaped their throats and lips were pulled back from sharp teeth as the sicking sweet smell of corruption came to their noses. Never had he experienced its like before and it was all he could do to keep from gagging on the cloying scent.
Lulu stood with feet braced. Her fur crackling in the sudden silence and he found himself taking a step back as she seemed to expand, her power becoming a physical force pushing against his skin. She shook and shimmered, blurring between this familiar form and another he had never imagined; two legged, tall, with tan skin and black hair streaming in an unfelt wind.
She was wild and dangerous.
A single word was ripped from her lips, a guttural sound full of hate and disgust.
One Last Dream
By Kira A. Moore
Hiku could feel Lulu’s presence at his side, a shadow mirroring his own dancing through the tall grass. He kept his focus on the ground ahead though as so often seemed the case, he was grateful for her presence at his side.
They had spent the day at the river, setting aside concerns, doubts and fears, letting the cool water bring back memories of simpler times. He never understood what drew them to a certain spirit and reason never really played a part in the selection. Boy, girl, man or woman, they had a need they could not express. He and others like him where there to guide, to be their light in the darkness. He need not understand.
Still, this issue with Zoe was something beyond his experience. Even Lulu, who had been at this longer than almost anyone was at a loss to explain it. Her returns were coming more quickly; this last was twice in as many days. Anything more than twice a week would be reason for concern and the fact they were accelerating added an edge he was too close to calling panic.
Reality TV Star Accused of Holding Art Hostage
Courthouse News Service: “”
(CN) – Former “Real Housewives” star Aviva Drescher and her husband, Reid, are attempting to shake down a Long Island artist who lent them his work, but from whom they now seek a “commission” for the sale of one of the pieces, a lawsuit claims.
Self-defense is murder when you’re a transgender woman of color.
State of Emergency for Transgender Women of Color | Addison Rose Vincent: “”
What was it which made this such a horrible place? The whoosh and clack of the ventilator, The incessant beep, beep, beep of the monitors, the wires and tubes which snaked this way and that, or was it the still form which not so long ago was a vibrant soul?
Sitting alone in the darkened room she shivered.
She had no idea of how long she had been here, what hour or even the day. None of those mattered, nothing mattered except she be here when those violet eyes opened once more.
Note: This scene is out of chronological order, sorry for any confusion,