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Alexical Gap
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June Challenge- 100 steps to waking

J

June Challenge- 100 steps to waking

With a snap I am conscious and the blur of dreams burn off. It’s five in the morning, so I turn over and surrender to more dreams-- ones that I will sometimes remember. The fervour of responsibility pushes them away and they all fade, but the most familiar. The named dreams that run in the same ways every time they surface in my mind. The mirror lake, the oceanside manor, the trail into the city. I rub the sleep from my eyes again. Dreams remembered are tangled around my head, stories to tell myself as I wake. So I do.

The teeth of a dream

T

The teeth of a dream

There is a dream in which I am a woman and I have lost myself: I am she. She does not distinguish between myself and herself because we are the same self. I am not parasitic, or just a fraction, nor is she these to me, but we are separate only enough for me to understand it. Soon she forgets, though. She has a day to attend to. There is hair to be forced back and a road to walk to the next destination. She cleans herself in something bigger than a puddle, with a stream flowing from it. She follows it with her tent on her back, picking berries from the side of the trail. Her destination is clear in her mind, and her goal is to meet you. You

Healthy Fixation

H

Healthy Fixation

She threw the cream cheese away, even though it was ‘lite’. She had read about what was in dairy, and she knew that even if it was low fat it was impure. For a day she wondered if organic cream cheese would be okay, but the list of unsafe food grew and travelled from the shelves of her fridge into the dumpster. There was nothing to put on her celery anymore so she just ate it raw and alone. Later she bought apples, cucumbers and kale for her juice fast. One website said to put a lime peel and all into the juicer to help make green juice palatable, but she couldn’t find an organic lime so she didn’t buy one. She didn

A Troll Passes

A

A Troll Passes

The traffic lulled her to sleep as it echoes off the concrete like the ocean. Except the buses. Fuck those things. Every forty-five minutes one would roar by and shake her back into a wakefulness she didn't want. Consciousness was cold and smelled like unwashed blankets. They might have had fleas in them, or bedbugs or something, because the tiny welts on her skin itched in forty-five minute intervals. There had been no money in ages-- or food. Tramps had stopped trying to trade those things for sex; there wasn't enough left of her to trade. Her recollections of the times food or money had been important and scarce enough to to barter for we

To someone who was gone even then

T

To someone who was gone even then

There was never a day where the sun was shining that I did not picture someone else's smile

The Moth Farming Equipment

T

The Moth Farming Equipment

The light basin hadn't been emptied in three days, and was ripe with fluttering wings. Sal fit the net over it and secured the leading cable. Her radio crackled. "Remember your damn goggles, Sal. The screen says you're not wearing them." "Yeah, yeah. Right," she said as lifted them to her face. The basin was overfull, but she couldn't tell how many moths were just by-catch and how many were worth something. She hoped for something big and easy-- some Flowra or Jenny-Dreaming. She released the basin door and watched them gather on the sides of the net. A Jenny-Dreaming landed next to a Greymare and she frowned under the goggles. The Greymar

The Sun and a Stain

T

The Sun and a Stain

It rose from the dank earth, its skin ragged like a moulted root. It chaffed from the raw air. The scales fell away to leave weeping sores on its many limbs, which grasped and decayed the roots it escaped from. Dust met it and stuck in patches around the pincers that snapped at the sunlight like an enemy. The rays balked, as if scared. The creature hissed, and reared its head to challenge the sun. "Lysander, look. Look at that. Auh! It's disgusting; kill it. Kill it please." The elf regarded the eldritch horror, and then his boyfriend. Lysander stomped the creature with the heel of his boot, and winced when it popped, covering the leather w
Artist // Literature
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I'm not here anymore; just letting any wondering watchers know.
I don't think I can watch Game of Thrones anymore, and that makes me sad.

I might organize a short story/poetry contest?

I might organize a short story/poetry contest?

I might! I'm thinking about it. I've never done anything like that before, though. I'm only taking one class in the summer and no longer have a horrible room mate! Now the horrible room mate is me. What I'm saying is I have time and compassion to spare, haha. I'm not sure if anyone would be interested in a contest called Walking to Utopia/The First Step to Utopia. Also I haven't got all the rules down pat. I'm not really interested in a "Utopia that is GASP actually a dystopia!" That's already a very specific trope in dystopian fiction. Basically, I need to figure out what it is I'm trying for before I get this off the ground.

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OfOneSoulHobbyist Writer
Thank you for the :+fav:, love! :iconsupertighthugplz:
no problem
Thank you for the recent fave! :ahoy:
no problem
REINDE-ERStudent General Artist
:jsenn:
    Your writing is yes.
Thanks!
REINDE-ERStudent General Artist
:jsenn:
    You're welcome.~~:heart: