KiriHearts

ashen streams flood, cold thoughts ripped away by the gales waiting, weak, for sun

the sour-sick feeling of my lungs rising against me like a king tide has faded. and, rather than driftwood and stranded sea stars, I am left with sunlight like a caress night like an old armchair drinking air like iced tea - refreshingly dry, smooth, clear and not too sweet. the shadows of old hurts are there but I flit from them like summer dragonflies only a too-long pause away from being caught sometimes the words fall like jewels from my frog throat and only then do I remember the truth: it used to always be this way and the other truth: the days were never quite so bright

let me tell you of my star self and my divine animal dissonance. if I present to you a constellaton- a knowing nod, a smile. you see the venom in my fingernails, and not the way they are cut short or how my hair falls to my hips if unbound. I am sure my grandmother could tell me of my flighty nature and soft stomach but as I cannot speak to her, I do not ask. perhaps you might consider, my mother, the scorpion rabbit, my dragon-sheep father, my brother, twin dogs, my sister, the double scales, all of whom I have hurt with my careless step and lashing sting. you who know me so well, should be the first to temper your words.

Myrtle came out of her house at the commotion, shielding her eyes from the sun. The young men - boys, really - saluted her as they walked by. "Off to war?" she said. "We are," one of them shouted, exuberant. "Dragons sighted at the borders. Hold the fort until we return, auntie?" Myrtle smiled, nodded, and went back inside. She gathered herbs for salves, ingredients for potions, mentally noting rare magical supplies that needed replenishing alongside the mundane. Bandages. Pain-numbers. Wooden limbs. She swept everything into place and lit a fire under the cauldron. The war would come to her, soon enough.

spare me your accolades, speeches, inspiration, words about perseverance and determination I want to be remembered for the flowers in my hair, for my sunburnt skin, for holding a sleeping kitten, for singing to a small child, or many other things that matter. those are what I remember when each rasping word and every doctor's visit tears at my soul. allow me the kindness of a few tears in lieu of the song I can never sing again. we will sit, then, a quiet morning in the sun, and forget what it is to breathe.

a moth beating its wings against my lampshade lungs oh- it's been so long friend but I hope you don't stay. I recall sharing a night in the screen-glow, singing words that rattled in the heavy air clinging to the thick edges of books with slender white (hope) fingers. what dusty vines entangle my heart for secretly, even in the sun-soaked searing day, I can never leave you all the way behind. strange comfort, pain-that-is-not-pain waiting for the night to open its jaws and swallow me- perhaps that has always been my home.

the serpent-girl left a trail of broken grass behind her as she made her slow, winding way towards the isolated house. despite the house being built on the coast, the rocks of the cliff made it necessary for her to go around by land, for she could swim, but not very well. outside of the lair of her caves, she could choose to transform into a being with legs, like humans. she chose not to. the door was ajar, and she pushed it open with a hand (for her upper half was not unlike humans in either form), entering inside with the soft swishing of scales against wood. the empty hallway led her past closed or darkened doorways before opening up into a large room, with high ceilings and wide windows looking out over the vast sky of the sea. there were instruments here, things with glass lenses and others with red-stained sharp edges. these she ran her fingers over, tasting their pain with her skin until she found what she searched for; a handful of scales not unlike her own, clumsily

Stacy stopped in front of the entrance to the corn maze. She dug out her phone and scrolled through her messages with Hot Mess Brandon. How bout a maze? Sure! : ) After dark, right? Yes! You get it. Awesome. Text me the address. I’ll meet you there. The code words had been a little unorthodox, but she and the Freedom Federation were committed to their dating-app cover story. She hadn’t expected the address to bring her to a literal corn maze. Or for it to feel so… deserted. “Hello?” she said, taking a few steps into the maze. She just needed to hand Brandon the papers, and then she could get out here. “Hey, Krista?” She turned a corner and stared, then opened her app in a furious hurry. Hot Mess Brandon was there in all his profile glory, except that his name was Joey, and he was listed as “just some guy searching for the anarchist”. Oh. Right. Stacy (posing as "Krista") had swiped him for fun. And for the sake of her cover, obviously. Joey was hot, and a mess. There were

I'm taking my kiddo into my old stomping grounds. We ran into a pack of misunderstandings, you know how it goes. This place used to be full of people, but now no one ever comes by. It's what makes it a great hiding place. I try not to use it too often. Bad for strategy. Lily is terrible at strategy, and barges in like a panicked herbivore. I mean, I know kids get excited, but we have been WORKING on this. You can't just go waltzing into a place, especially if you're a squishy two legs. Lily's not really "my" kid, she's one of the girls so I look after her, she just needs a lot more looking after than any of the other girls in the squad. Angel's nearly eaten her twice and it caused a huge thing, because Bella backed me up despite it totally being Lily's fault and we all know it. I mean, Angel's trying, it's just hard when you're so big and they're so small you know? So we decided to split up for now, and it's just me, Lily and Bella. Anyway, Lily seems to love the facility, but

Bella and I were running when we hit a road. It's one of the black roads the two legs love, the kind that gets way too hot in the sun. It's dark now, so it's only uncomfortably warm under my feet. Bella turns to look down the road, sniffing the air, but okay, we both know it’s not worth it. We’re on a little dirt track that you can barely see, which is how we like it, and we’re supposed to be meeting up with Angel for recon. Still, Bella looks back at me, and I can tell she’s hungry. Bella’s always hungry. There’s lights down the road, and the smell of metal and oil mixing with the slightly rank smell of various types of prey. I signal that we should keep moving. Quantity doesn’t mean quality, and two legged prey is just SO unappetizing. Skin and bones. I’m banking on Angel finding a herd of one of the big herbivores. Now those are delicious. And filling. Bella doesn’t move, though, so I go to nudge her off the black road when I see what’s she looking at. There’s a tiny