Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Short Story - Communications

She hit the Send button, then reached for the bottle of rum. A shot of spiced liquor helped settle her nerves, kept her from regretting what she'd just done. She trembled, and took another shot, the timid part of her wishing she could take it back.

Too late; the internet never forgot.

He couldn't possibly care. Couldn't possibly be her nephew, be one of her only friends in the universe. Everything she'd interpreted from the songs must just be insanity in her head, a sign that she was losing her grip.

But she knew what she knew.

More alcohol, then a move away from the computer. Pretend she hadn't just reached out to someone who didn't know her, but seemed to allude to her in lyrics. She had many suspicions of whom she knew and whom was from her previous lives, but she'd never let any of them know. She'd always kept to herself, had told herself she was just slightly crazy. She couldn't expect others to understand her insanity and play along with it.

Yet she couldn't deny how very much she wanted to be proven wrong.

Wrong about her insanity. Right about what she felt in her very soul. That she wasn't a plain human, that she was a celestial being that had been trapped in physical form. She wanted to know that others understood this about themselves, that they also remembered the great and glorious Universe, that they remembered how to fly, that they knew the taste of magic.

She took another drink, tears threatening to take her.

It was impossible that he would ever respond back, wasn't it? This wasn't fiction, wasn't the perfection of her imagination. He would never reply with a glib acknowledgment of their relationship, but she couldn't get that image out of her head. She desperately wanted to have someone know her, to be aware of her aspect, wanted them to be as happy to find her as she was to find them.

But she knew that's not how "real life" played out.

Closing the browser tab, forcing herself to move to another task. She couldn't dwell on the subject, couldn't do anything to make events happen. She actually needed to give the event no thought, pretend she hadn't actually reached out to her nephew. It would hurt more to have no response than to have never crafted the message, to have tried to communicate with a kindred soul.

At least she had tried.

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Short Story - Homecoming

She sits atop the hill, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. Dusk is the best time to sing; the world becomes quiet, ready to rest, able to hear the faintest melodies.

The last rays kiss the sky, and a hush falls across her. No more bust photons, no more rush to work, no more activity to distract. It's calm and welcoming, like a silk shawl placed across her shoulders. This is her favorite time of day.

Her first note is high, soft, almost too faint to be heard. She holds it for a long time before descending into the body of the song. Up and down the scale, the tempo follows her heartbeat, quickly filling the silence left by the sunset. Birds join in, and soon the ground swells with the song.

Full of sorrow and love, loneliness and hope, she sings her song of homecoming with her very soul. Aether and physical realms feel the pull of her threnody, carrying her symphony to those who can hear. She knew their hearts and souls will understand, will guide them home.

And though she stands alone, it is only temporary. The others are being guided home, and she will sing every day until they are united once more.

This is her song of homecoming.

Monday, September 4, 2017

Where'd I go? Health issues

So, I've been gone for a while. Someone somewhere has probably wondered why.

Well, I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes almost three years ago. I'd been having health problems before them, including a mental breakdown, all of which I think were related to unchecked diabetes. I really couldn't handle anything, and I went into hiding.

I couldn't even write anymore. I couldn't focus, I was too depressed, and I simply had no passion for the words anymore. I've been trying off and on for the last year, but it really hasn't been working out well.

I can't say as I'm truly back, because my type of diabetes is a rare version called Fragile. My sugars are so wonky, I can think too hard and become hypoglycemic.

But I'm working on a serial story with my husband, and I'm really enjoying it. I haven't enjoyed writing in so long, haven't felt genuinely excited about it in so long, that I'm rather surprised by how much progress I've made since we started in February.

In the meantime, I think I'll start posting stories that have sat neglected, that have lingered in a notebook for far too long.

Enjoy, and maybe I'll keep surprising you.