The law applies to all

He bowed his head as he lit the candles. There was a particular order to it, one he had been instructed on since birth. Even when tired, he could not make a mistake. Even when tired, it was impossible for him to do so, it was the only way.

“Why?” asked his sister, who couldn’t hold anything in her head, hadn’t been able to for ten years.

“We must do our job consistently, for we have chained Time here,” he told her.

“Why?”

“Because if released, Time would slay the Gods.” He continued before she could ask. “Time slays everything, eventually. You and me as well. Mother and Father.”

“Time is imprisoned for crime then?”

That was the simple explanation. He smiled as she lit the last candle. “Yes. Yes, that’s it.”

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The Playthings of God (pt8)

Natie realized she was moving again. Her stomach churned, but she only bit her lower lip until she stopped moving. She realized she was on some other smooth surface, brown and wooden maybe, with the Giant nearby. Natie could finally breathe normally again, wiping her face. As she did so, she let go of the branch and what was left of the tree, tumbling to the surface alone with nothing else between her and the strange world she saw around her.

Tears streaming freely, Natie looked around her again. It really could be like a distorted house, the proper size for the bearer of the Hands. The Giant was dipping its hands into a glass box. That box was as big as the world, as far as Natie was concerned.

But the world was bigger than that, because the glass box fit perfectly on the cabinet. Which is what it had to be. She was worlds away from it, but she could see it. Like if she was seeing the sun. Which she could see now, hanging by cords thicker than all the woods wound together, shining down into the box.

Home, in that box. It reminded her of keeping a frog, except so much larger. So much larger. So much larger. So much-

Natie cried into her hands, until the Giant used something that could have blotted out that electric sun over her entire village to sweep her onto a new tree, which she clung to. Then she moved yet again, way too fast. Maybe she threw up, but her mouth tasted terrible either way. Forcing her eyes open, she looked straight up into the face of their God.

At first she couldn’t process it, because it was so large. When she could finally take it all in, when she put together everything she could see, it came to her.

It looked just like them.

Take the future in hand, me!

It is July! I’m not really here (even moreso than usual), because it is Camp NaNoWriMo and I don’t have enough time to focus on anything but that. As of the time of Writing this I still am not quite sure what I’m going to be Writing, but I know I’m going to Write a lot. It’s not as if I don’t have a lot of ideas that need to actually have their own space on paper. Stop editing in your head, edit on paper. That should be my motto.

In other words, I am working on the final edits of my first book. It may fall a little to the wayside this month, but I will be finishing it the month after. Before the end of the year I will finally be published. As long as I Write that here, I can’t chicken out, right? That’s how accountability works, right?

I will no longer be updating every day, but I’m certain everyone will not mind. In the long term, I will be Writing more. And eventually people will be reading more, because there will be more to read. This blog has been good practice for me and it will continue to be.

To prove some of my dedication to you, here is a sample from the up and coming “Alice to Wonderland Organization”.

Continue reading “Take the future in hand, me!”

The Playthings of God (pt7)

It seemed a little darker, beyond the barrier of her eyelids. Natie couldn’t open her eyes to check though, her terror kept her a tight ball on the branch she clung to. She could breathe still, but her air came out in short bursts, little lungs hyperventilating.

Until she opened her eyes and became breathless.

She was reminded of being five years old, in her house. If her house had been twenty times the size and she twenty times less. It took her a long time to take it in, as she looked around, seeing something that looked like a lantern, but huge. She and the tree had been set down on a table that was bigger than the world, so it seemed. And then Natie looked up.

The face looked down upon the tree and the Hands carefully broke off the part of the tree she was on. Natie screamed again, as she went up up up once more. She looked into the EYE, larger than life, before hanging her head to press it into the bark.

It wasn’t real. This hadn’t happened. She had fallen out of the tree when she saw the Hand and she was making this up.

It was obvious what had happened

After a week of complaints, he was found dead in his bedroom.

Dreams of falling had plagued him all that time, his roommate told them. It had woken him up. He was afraid of hitting the ground. The roommate had told him to talk to someone about it – maybe it was caused by stress. He had an appointment set up for tomorrow.

She wished she had a cigarette to bite down on. Not because she smoked, but because she felt the need to fit a role she wasn’t filling right now. “What caused this, doctor?”

The coroner looked up at her, then at the ceiling. She could jump up and reach it, it wasn’t a big room. “Falling.”

The mangled body said he had fallen from a vast height, hitting the floor of his room fast. All evidence pointed to that.

Except for the fact there was a ceiling here.

Ignoring does not only mean not looking

Inhabitants of Zinge, over whom the star Canopus rises every night, are always gay and without sorrow. This, she believed, was dumb. She flicked her lighter on and off. Because she was not an inhabitant of Zinge, she was just there right now, and she was not without sorrow.

Which meant the people around her made her irritated. Irritation on top of sorrow made for a much less than happy lady.

She was offered food and drink. She declined both, remaining on the edge of civilization. The people would leave, return, all unaffected by her reaction.

She was not only sorrowful and irritated. Now she felt ignored. They did not accept how she felt. She felt hate.

She flicked her lighter on.