Mostly musings on my life, some essays, letters, etc.
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This Strange World That No Longer Contains You by LadyofGaerdon, literature
Literature
This Strange World That No Longer Contains You
They say I'm like you. I hope they're right. They've been saying it for a long time.
My parents always wonder how they ended up with such a polite, demure, sweet, pure little thing. Though of course you and everyone else know what a hellion I can be. But I certainly didn't get any of those aforementioned positive qualities from them. I have you to thank for those.
You raised the entire family and handfuls of our friends. You are Grama to the entire town. But you're my Grama, (even if you're really my great-grandmother), and I was the lucky one out of all of us who seems to have taken after you.
They tell me I'm positive. I'm strong. I'm re
I remember lying in my hospital bed at the physical rehabilitation facility, far too many years ago, staring at a picture of a little girl. Someone had brought it in for me, though I didn't remember who or why. In the picture she was wearing shorts, and leaning to feed bread to the ducks gathered around her. I stared at the little girl's legs and cried. She was beautiful.
"I broke you," I whispered to her. "I'm so sorry I broke you. I never meant to. Please, forgive me." And she did, of course. But I'm not sure if that made it better or worse.
There was a poet staying in the room next to me. He was a brain trauma patient, unlike me. For so
Sehnsucht - The Winter Fae by LadyofGaerdon, literature
Literature
Sehnsucht - The Winter Fae
Katie stormed out the front door about a minute after arriving home. Her parents were at it again. The argument had progressed to the point where neither one was making any effort to keep their voices down. It didn't matter that Katie had SATs to study for. There was no chance of that with her parents screaming their heads off about - what was it this time? Katie listened.
Oh, God. The hairbrush. They're fighting about the hairbrush again.
That was enough for Katie to slip back out to the porch, pull on her rollerblades and go. She didn't want to be here if the cops showed up again.
Her friends liked to make fun of her for rollerbladin
Dear Violet,
First of all, I must thank you sincerely for choosing me to tell your story. I hope you never regret this decision, as I know the speed at which I transcribe your story is maddeningly slow - to me as well. I often feel guilty for keeping you and your story all to myself - when truly, it begs to be told to many more people. And this is the mission I have given myself - that you've given me, really: to tell your story to the world.
I hope I can prove myself worthy of the task, though I am often plagued with doubt at my ability to properly bring you to life, as well as the world you inhabit. It is odd - I spend so much time there,
She always did love pomegranates.
She didn't know I'd poisoned them, when I left them on the table when she came to retrieve her belongings. She didn't know I'd already found a new place, that I'd set her a trap, a plan to bring her here, down, down into the catacombs that are now my kingdom.
She stares at me now, dark circles beneath wide, empty eyes. I offer her another seed.
"Come now, my dear. Do have something to eat. You look deathly pale." I flash her a grin she ignores.
I butter bread and place it in her cold hand. "I've arranged this feast, just for the two of us, and you haven't even the good graces to eat it?" Her blue lips off