-2-
July 24th
Mama married Daniel today at a church in Daniel’s home town of Gilchrest.
The church was packed. Mostly Daniel’s people. He comes from a large family, the majority of whom live right here in town. On Mama’s side it was just me, Allie, Aunt Helen, my Cousins Julian, Tristan and little Sadie and Mama’s coven Sisters; Simone, Louise and Hanifah.
Everyone loved the decorations which is gratifying, considering all the work we put into them. The theme was the four elements with a nod to our African roots. The church has four seating sections divided by columns and each section got a different element while
-4-
July 26th
I am a trapped and wounded blackbird. Beak broken, unable to make a sound. Panic presses down upon me. It has a shape and weight that I pray to forget. I'm not a bird after all, just a little girl and the lips on mine are taboo. The net tightens where I am neck bound―can't breathe! Darkness seeps into my tears . . .
I wake up gasping, my fingers scrabbling at my throat. But there's no constriction. Nothing to feel but my own sweat-slick skin. Dreaming. I was dreaming. It takes another moment for the realisation to sink in.
My room comes into focus. Hazy afternoon sunlight light and the ceiling fan spinning sluggishl
-3-
July 25th
Gilchrest has an online Newspaper called The Informer. I find Seth’s death notice dated December 10th after less than a half an hour’s search. Seth Ignacio Thorn aged nineteen, deceased December 3rd 2008. Born November 19th 1989 in Aberdeen, South Dakota to Mika Owens and Paley Thorn also deceased.
He is survived by his uncle, Dennison Thorn.
A short memorial service will be held on December 11th at the Ackerman Funeral Home at 1pm.
I know it’s him because of the photo that accompanies the notice. Time slips sideways for a moment as I stare at his face.
It's not a recent picture. His hair is longer
-1-
October 16th
Grandma Melisandre is dead and I’m not sure how to feel. I know I feel something but I can’t quite call it grief. We didn’t have much of a relationship, you see. She’s been estranged from the family for years.
I’ve lived in awe of her all my life though. She was not just my grandmother but a Wise Woman, and a direct descendant of the legendary Puissant, Audrey Duplessis. It is a lineage to be proud of despite our family’s dysfunction.
What’s strange is that she asked to see me the night she died. I suppose she was feeling lonely in her last hours and wanted company. But why no
-2-
July 24th
Mama married Daniel today at a church in Daniel’s home town of Gilchrest.
The church was packed. Mostly Daniel’s people. He comes from a large family, the majority of whom live right here in town. On Mama’s side it was just me, Allie, Aunt Helen, my Cousins Julian, Tristan and little Sadie and Mama’s coven Sisters; Simone, Louise and Hanifah.
Everyone loved the decorations which is gratifying, considering all the work we put into them. The theme was the four elements with a nod to our African roots. The church has four seating sections divided by columns and each section got a different element while
-4-
July 26th
I am a trapped and wounded blackbird. Beak broken, unable to make a sound. Panic presses down upon me. It has a shape and weight that I pray to forget. I'm not a bird after all, just a little girl and the lips on mine are taboo. The net tightens where I am neck bound―can't breathe! Darkness seeps into my tears . . .
I wake up gasping, my fingers scrabbling at my throat. But there's no constriction. Nothing to feel but my own sweat-slick skin. Dreaming. I was dreaming. It takes another moment for the realisation to sink in.
My room comes into focus. Hazy afternoon sunlight light and the ceiling fan spinning sluggishl
-3-
July 25th
Gilchrest has an online Newspaper called The Informer. I find Seth’s death notice dated December 10th after less than a half an hour’s search. Seth Ignacio Thorn aged nineteen, deceased December 3rd 2008. Born November 19th 1989 in Aberdeen, South Dakota to Mika Owens and Paley Thorn also deceased.
He is survived by his uncle, Dennison Thorn.
A short memorial service will be held on December 11th at the Ackerman Funeral Home at 1pm.
I know it’s him because of the photo that accompanies the notice. Time slips sideways for a moment as I stare at his face.
It's not a recent picture. His hair is longer
-1-
October 16th
Grandma Melisandre is dead and I’m not sure how to feel. I know I feel something but I can’t quite call it grief. We didn’t have much of a relationship, you see. She’s been estranged from the family for years.
I’ve lived in awe of her all my life though. She was not just my grandmother but a Wise Woman, and a direct descendant of the legendary Puissant, Audrey Duplessis. It is a lineage to be proud of despite our family’s dysfunction.
What’s strange is that she asked to see me the night she died. I suppose she was feeling lonely in her last hours and wanted company. But why no
“So what’s the pitch?” asked Harper as he strode into the room. “This better not be a waste of my time like last time.”
Swallowing his annoyance, Victor took a seat at the meeting table. They’d been waiting almost an hour for the asshole to make an appearance but sure, they were wasting his time. “I'll leave that for you to decide sir,” he said in his most neutral tone. “But we think it has potential.” He glanced at Sophie, the other dream tech in the meeting room who took that as her cue to begin. “This one’s a sci-fi,” Sophie said, “Nothing too freaky. Tak
I trade in deceptions. I peddle illusions. I sell mirages.
I am the maker of veils.
Elf ears and angel wings – for the right price, I can conceal anything.
And so, quite understandably, when the human barges into my store (not a drop of magick in him) I am – to be completely fucking honest – more than a little thrown off. How did he find me? What does he know? Is this interaction going to end at all profitably for me? “Can I help you with something?” I ask carefully.
He bumps into a jewelry stand with his shoulder – the wood and bone necklaces clatter against each other – and then he fumbles to ca
.
be done the rugged day
see to it we shall sing
of old worlds collapsed
and set to decay
.
know this
.
that in my memory
all things are misplaced
.
your love for me too
.
long set far behind
lying with another
acting innocent
tongue rolling a lie
over itself
like a stone
.
for you intimacy was an act of war
with you as its only hero
and its only casualty
.
kiss the feet of the baker
bend the ear of the shepard
shiver down the firework display
this road is mighty
long and cruel
.
kiss off your satin nightgown
nestle down by the bare radiator
book in hand
but barely comprehending
.
let your bare walls fill wi
Let's clear the air: neither of us
believes the other is real
even when crassly corporeal,
bulking up the produce aisle
the fact of a person can become hazy
milky around the edges
as though through thick cataracts
or a white clot of time
We are each addressing
the uncertain memory of the other
in the same embarrassed way
one reschedules a forgotten appointment.
But despite two ghosts suddenly
appearing next to the tomatoes,
social convention smears
its greasy hands over everything
and one of us takes the dive,
reluctantly asking,
“And how have you been
since middle school?”
Working nights, sleeping days,
When the boys filed off
The bus from school, I'd get up.
Then, bats, gloves, three
Blocks to the Kennedy Park fields,
A tall, gray painter's bucket
With forty balls, the boys
To shag for each other. Swep
Attacked each of his balls,
Sent Jeremy chasing to all corners
Of the lot. I stayed on
Jeremy, left-handed, pitch
By pitch, to pull the ball,
Discover his power.
5 p.m., the boys plopped down,
While I jogged the field
For balls missed in the clover.
"Do you know what happens when a black star dies?" Tony asks, rhetorically, not waiting for an answer. "It collapses in upon itself, and in one last gasp, ejaculates a single burst of energy into the void."
His assistant nods, numbly, pen to paper but motionless, unsure of whether this is something she should be writing down.
"Consider the size of the universe, think about the odds of such a burst of the purest concentration of energy hitting a planet with life on it, let alone this," he pauses waving his hands about, searching for the appropriate words, "this shit hole," he finishes.
She writes 'shit hole' on the notepad.
"And of all the
In ancient days when the island was new, there lived a hunter like none who lives today. KaloKa was this hunter’s name. He walked with footsteps silent as still water, and his arrows could snatch the stars from the sky. Born beneath a warlock’s moon, he understood the words of the wild beasts, and when he wore the skin of an animal he took its shape upon him. His hunting spear brought death like sleep, and at its approach no prey would flee, for its point brought no pain and the creatures of the forest had not learned to fear it.
But though the hunter brought no pain, no fear, there was one who came to hate him: his only brother,
Current Residence: St. Kitts Favourite genre of music: Anything that moves me Favourite style of art: Fantasy, gothic Operating System: Vista Skin of choice: His Favourite cartoon character: Batman FTW Personal Quote: In matters of taste, there is no dispute
Favourite Movies
Fight Club, StarTrek, Lars & the Real Girl, Ever After, In Bruges, Donnie Darko
Hi guys,
Just a quick hello. Been looking in once every while to see what my dA friends are up to. To those of you still here and still an active part of the community - I see you. I've been browsing your galleries and reading your journals and polls and I continue to be inspired by you all
To all my new Watchers, thank you for watching me. You don't know how much I wish I had new lit content to share with you. I haven't been writing much other than in my journal but I'm happy to say that my life hasn't been a complete dearth of creativity.
Writing is still my chief passion but when you're struggling as I have been, I think it's important
Last night we lost another legend. David Bowie: A true icon, a gifted musician and from all reports a lovely man. His music bridged generations and will live on.
Fair seas Mr. Bowie. I raise a glass in toast to a life well lived. :beer:
I'm bored here at work and I haven't written a journal for a long ass while and as you do when you're bored you get to thinking 'bout all sorts of things.
So, I thought I'd get a conversation going based on the above topic.
I'll start things off:
Seymour the dog. Episode Jurassic Bark - Futurama
Scene where Jesse finds out Leslie has died - Bridge to Terabithia (the movie)
Spoiler Alert!
The death of Temple - The Reaper's Are The Angels
All right. Your turn. Tell me about a scene in a book, movie or show (maybe even a commercial) that absolutely wrecked your shit and just plain made you feel.
How I wish you could see your birthday greetings. How I wish more that I could see you, that there were new stories to read; just see you. Thinking of you, with satisfaction that I knew you then, and can think of you now. Love you, Rosie.