Organized by Collection
Birth MarkedGrandpa used to tell stories
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about the night I was born,
said a lost sparrow with cockeyed feathers
hopped across my right shoulder
and left its mark.
Shifting the sheaf of hair
mom refused to cut short
and craning my neck,
I could just see the cluster
of sharp-edged W's etched like tattoos
across the scalloped scoop of my bones.
In summer heat waves,
I learned to weave my dark tangles into braids
and let the claw strokes breathe,
the thin straps of feather-print shirts
pushed out of the way.
On those days,
Grandpa claimed I could lift my arms, wing-like,
and fly myself into something new.
though the sun is high
and summer nears again,
Grandpa is gone
and I am weighted by dark moods
and black mascara.
Standing at his graveside,
I tell him stories about the parts of him I miss
and the parts of me I hate
but cannot change;
the parts I was born into.
A phantom breeze clutches
the fresh bob of my wayward hair
and for a moment,
I can feel his work-calloused fingers
[Tenth Doctor/Reader] What Have I Done? "Doctor," I repeat, "What was that noise?" He continued walking forward, significantly slower than before.
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"An old...friend," he says hesitantly.
"So...Someone who wants to kill you and or the entire human race?" I respond.
"What gives you that idea?"
"You hesitated. And the whole 'Stay close' thing." He nodded slightly, but didn't say anything after.
We continued walking, finally reaching the end of the one-way road.
On the ground, sat a cross-legged man, his face covered by the hood of his black sweatshirt.
"Hello, Doctor. I see you've found a...permanent companion?" he slowly looked up as he spoke, revealing the crazed grin he was hiding.
"And what if I have?" the Doctor responded, acting as a shield as he pushed be behind himself. The man smiled rather than grinned now.
"Then that's one more thing I can torture you with."
Neither of us saw the crazy spark in his eye until it was too late. He sprung up and slammed himself against the Doctor, sending him stumbling backwards over me.