Mid-Week Words

It's been a crazy past few weeks, and with nine days in a row of article writing I simply haven't had a moment to post, for after the end of a day of writing, the last thing I feel like doing is being on the computer for a moment longer. I was fortunate enough that my first day off today the weather was nice enough to get outside. I left the house at 1pm and didn't come in till the sun began to hang low and my fingers were too cold to grip the hoop properly. 

The words are slow these days, but they are trudging along! I actually have three different series getting active again all at once, so it's been messy, but here's a few snippets to satisfy your curiosity. 

from the Journal, entry dated Jan. 2. 2014-

Till this day, it pains me how little how I truly know about him, when he knows so much about me. Its how I've always been in relationships. I read off the warning label quickly and with brute force, because I have always viewed myself as some inhuman terror of metaphysical energy issues and insanity who would rather be working alone than in the company of most people.
Its time I stopped.
I don't need to show my worst cards at the first hand, or even the fifth. I am not a monster who needs to be quarantined away in a separate dating pool. I can take my time and be more careful. I can choose to ask questions for everyone I answer, if not more so.
I can choose to level the playing field.

from somewhere within The Little Red Notebook-
"Luke, I need you to listen, before we do this,"
"Dan, don't. We are not discussing that now."
"No, Luke, its important-"
"Dan, I already know! I-"
"to grab my gym bag out of the trunk?"
Luke blinks.
"Why-"
"Just do it!"
He does. Dan's coughing up blood and doesn't have time to explain that its necessary to back up whatever story he figures out when his brain has enough blood in it to think straight.
"How long do I have?"
"A few hours, maybe. One of your ribs-"
"But if you do it?"
"It would have to be now or never."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
Luke nods, and Dan can't see well enough to make out any expression, if the guy has a discernible one at all.
"Okay."

Mid-Week Words

from the Journal, entry dated Oct. 8th 2013-
I walk in the stars and feel the songs in my chest, the rhythms resonate in my bones, and the chords go straight to the marrow.
The night skies are alight as my boots kick up the leaves, and the sweet, oaky scent of decay seduces my senses, as rare and perfect as the aroma of a well-loved and pleasantly aged text. Something dances in the spaces between flesh and bone, my skin shivering pleasantly as thoughts waltz and ideas sway with the moon and tide.

from somewhere within the Daniel Thompson series-

Dan parked the car at the head of the path, and even this far from the crime scene, he was having reservations. His Nope alarm was already screaming at a ‘Aw Hell No’ just at the sight of the dead forest. A cold wind howled through the dead branches, making them creak and sway, sounding like a voice, the creepiest goddamn voice, beckoning him to enter the wood, and despite the fact that every cop car was long since gone, he still had the feeling he was being watched.

"Shut the fuck up Danny," he muttered to himself, sneakers squelching in the mud of the season, "This is not a horror movie, there are no voices on the goddamn wind, get a fucking grip."

He walked down the trail, and hoped whatever he found didn’t scar him for life or cause him to lose his lunch. Everything was still dead and decaying, the ecosystem waiting for the first warm spring day to wake the woods up again.

Danny comforted himself by pretending this was a LARP, and the gaze he felt on the back of his neck was really just a game-maker monitoring for fair play.