It's raining dreams today; mother-of-pearl ribbons and star fluff, crystals of imagination in your hair. Saplings spring from your pencil; a floral symphony, a garden that never sees winter. Whoever said there's no magic in this world?
#vss365#CeruleanProse#whistpr#Sunthing
Perhaps a person with a persnickety personality could progress- pop into a positive perspective like a pocket-watch prised open by a plucky puppy. A promising premise, promptly practiced upon a peckish passerby.
#vss365
The boy cups his shaking hands together as if sheltering the world. Sniffling, he reveals a damaged wind-up music box.
His grandfather takes the box and winds it by his ear. "Wish, wish... then listen."
The boy shuts his eyes until he hears the faint symphony of birdsong.
#vss365
Her reflection is lost in the mirror. She presses a hand to the glass, then her whole body, aching to push through to the other side, to nestle her reflection's hand in hers as if it were a fledgling, to pull her twin from the dark, distorted depths of endless reflection.
#vss365
When she was a babe, a shooting star wandered into her nursery. Weary, it fell into the crib and got caught in her wide brown eyes. It lives there still, dancing about her retina; casts her iris gold. A starry-eyed girl with a star in her eye, beacon against stormy skies.
#vss365
@PatchieSteve@KesheWrites Hi! Thanks for the kind comments. I'm all right. Taking a break from Twitter, but still writing every day. Hope you're doing well! ๐
His hands are too large, too coarse to play the ukulele. How could hands built to break make music? He longs for the nectar of catgut strings. Downstream, cherry trees hum and creak. Breeze plucks petals from branches; teardrops pitter-patter against the watermelon waves.
#vss365
Don't pray for me, her sister said. Words are empty and can't hold a hand, let alone a heart. Don't trust sweet promises, runts of already neglected vows. Don't wish upon stars; they are nothing but balls of gas, lightyears apart.
#vss365#whistpr#BraveWrite
She thought she and her sisters escaped the tower. The dragon fell, and they danced upon its grave.
Now she hears its haunting song again.
"Why must we never be free?" she whispers.
She waits for an answer, a cypher in the wind.
In the silence, she weeps for her sisters.
#vss365
The treatment for an ectopic pregnancy is abortion.
The treatment for a septic uterus is abortion.
The treatment for a miscarriage that your body wonโt release is abortion.
If you canโt get those abortions, you die.
You. Die.
itโs wild that we live in a world with constellations and capybaras and rolling fields full of daffodils and hawks bursting into flight and weโre like โIโm so upset by what this stranger said onlineโ
Authors shouldn't be cancelled for things said or done by the characters in their fiction. Characters in stories need the freedom to make mistakes, to grow, to be wrong; without drama and change there's no story.