An Old Mind of Photographs

A great sweep.
Snapshots huddle together in tight clusters, like shivering atoms. One, of a beach. Another, of an ivory headdress that made my hair rain in waves down my back.
A melancholy settles around my shoulders, and pushes me deep underground.
Katy Rose dances around me, her feet (afire) stamping pentacles and charms into the earth. I am trapped in the middle, and the earth will hold me now, until Katy takes her toe (gently) and scrubs the symbols away.
Purple rain, they say, and red earth and winds as white as heaven. An elemental force. Which is missing? You know, of course. It pulls at you daily, this imbalance.
A multicolour fire.

What Writers Write

In Grandma Zing's kitchen, Marbie hyperventilated, her mother baked a carrot cake, and Fancy sipped wisdom from her coffee cup.
'He will return,' was Fancy's wisdom. 'He won't be long.'
'I suppose he will.' Grandma Zing measured a teaspoon of dried ginger. 'But Marbie, darling, what were you thinking?'
'That's the thing.' Marbie sat back up, wide-eyed. 'I don't think I was thinking.'
'Someone as special as Nathaniel -'
'Stop it, Mum,' interrupted Fancy. 'Nathaniel will come back eventually, Marbie.'
'No, he won't,' murmured Marbie, turning to her sister. 'You didn't see his eyes. He was so calm. He listened to what I said, and then he got out of bed, and took out his suitcase and packed. He folded his clothes like they were going on display in the window of a shop. And then he slept on the couch, and in the morning when I got up, he and Listen were gone. And the snow was here.'
'Never mind,' Grandma Zing comforted, 'the carrot cake won't be much longer now. I'm about to put it in the oven.' She glanced over to confirm that the oven was preheating. 'We'll leave your dad in the TV room for the moment. He loves that game show of his, doesn't he? And he's spent all morning in the shed.'
'Look,' said Fancy, firmly. 'It was just once, wasn't it, Marbie?'
'Yes,' agreed Marbie. 'Just the once.'
'And you don't plan to see him again, do you? This aeronautical engineer of yours?'
'No,' insisted Marbie. 'Never again.'
'Well now!' It was settled. 'Nathaniel will come back.'
'No, he won't.' Marbie shook her head, with tears blurring her eyes. 'No, he won't.' Then she dried her eyes, looked thoughtful for a moment, and added: 'I admire his resolve.'

(from The Spell Book of Listen Taylor, by Jaclyn Moriarty, pg. 165-166)

What Writers Think

My dreams are schizophrenic.
They play cat and mouse games with my senses.