'cuz sum times u wanna watchum swim for a while, before u lettum go
Girl Gone: Daphne went to the zebra ghetto, staring at the equestrian food pellets and dietary supplements, every Fashion Week.
10212016/2100232 0.0 00 11 round 35 chirp, chirp
rolling space 11292015
-Writer’s Edge- 250 words
Sounds stepped lively from lips well rehearsed as she listened, gazing at a fluffy doughnut of a cloud rested in crisp blue sky. Arms gyrated clearing imaginary cobwebs from dim space filled with ears and comments scribbling streamers above the word parade foot printed. Nia rocked back in her chair, her copy in duplicate as she focused on the grass end of her nose.
“You should go.” He had said, quite convincingly. “Workshops are filled with like minded people and serious professional feedback. They’ll love you.” She signed up the next morning, thinking thirty days would give her adequate time to select what she would present.
Hastily clustered floor lamps topped with warmly glowing paper globes filled an alcove left of the presentation area. She sailed between the bamboo rippled moons and had named three of them when clapping anchored her abruptly.
“Catering is ready in the entry area where you registered this morning. We’ll plan on an hour, breaking into small group discussion at 1:15 p.m.” The organizer motioned toward the French doors. “This is a talented group. Relax, refresh. You’ll be working hard this afternoon.” She smiled and headed toward the small table near the many moons, picking up a clipboard. Several people meandered toward the doors, pointing at papers and speaking as she shuffled a few.
“Excuse me,” interrupted Nia’s attempt to slip unnoticed through the doorway. “Do you have a webpage? “
So much for invisible, Nia thought staring at the clipboard, mumbling, “Uhhh. Not really?”
ref 07112015/2048656 -some.it: sum- 4.2 02 25 ohhhh, d'esssa lake
Edit other ref in
-tongue tide- 250 words
Brown, green, red swirled on corralled currents like detached snatches of helicopter blades keeping time with the actual flight obscured by blue gray glass towers before drifting to rest on concrete. She watched all of this with blue gray eyes from a wall to wall carpeted loft built long before the mirrored canyon tried to steal the sky.
Another fifteen hundred administrative positions would be catching the 1:15 westbound, proclaimed the newspaper, as time moved forward and reverse simultaneously. Cavorting cohorts; corps ruptive snuggling into the wheezing windy city buffered by layer upon layer of zero balance interoperating threads. Careful treads, she thought looking past the stone for a shoe or two, sure to show.
Less layers and more veils; wisps of purrs, part omicron and chi: a monopoly board geodesic. Get out of jail cards had gone electronic and supersonic, perhaps freeing the brown, green, red from proper branches. Poor Aristotle. Did your toss and turn churn, eternally? Did beauty and quality stretch shadowy actions of habit like the waver of lines marbled into the framed panels separating cement from cloud?
The light shifted golden shafts to stab at the cold neutrals become natural in the playing place of mazes. She stretched remembering moon, brown and red, stars strung like beads between buildings leaving no sign of green serene.
“TawnTawn,” said the black hightop construction company of one placing a saucer of milk within easy reach. “You worried me this time. Eight days of adventure with no postcard?”
-no veil- 250 words
She was no stranger to catacomb, cavern and culvert. Scurry-hurry-furry-mouse, she sang between ears, eyes darting with minimal head movement. She understood shadow. Two minutes earlier than yesterday, dark was city spun threads cotton candy peach glow threatening easy detection of silhouettes in motion. Cameo camouflage designed itself in the FUTURE folder.
She dropped a rock into the tunnel crosswalk, crouching into bayberry branches. Nothing discernible moved. The chipped wall grabbed at fishing line as the convex mirror inched down. Line of sight across the entire length of the subterranean tube was clear. Taking steps two at a time, she wound the mirror back into her pocket, substituting a deflected laser.
Hieroglyphs: archaeological transcription, translation; picture and bat signal protege, Zondra searched the three-sixty pipe for evidence of Evan. Finding everything, but nothing of him, her seal stayed and she ascended. Out came the page protector faux laminated map grid. Curfew was not to be missed. If the city had taught her nothing else, she understood her place among urban creatures of the night.
She hung in a deep doorway, smoking her cigarette, tapping it out on the innermost corner. One thought, one step. What did she know up to this point? What could be verified? Real underground graphic novel, he said. Tomorrow she would go through the silo with different eyes.
Tonight, the hands of time were sugar spun glistening like neon carnival melted the morning after. Sole to wood, wonder wandered topside of the board walk toward home.
ref 07022015/2047400 -sketchy, ink- 4.8 02 14 roar shack ->Tpond30
ref 07312015/2051342 -my.la(i)r- 3.0 01 11 You had better have a good explanation. ~p.ain't.ting~->Tpond60
ref 09052015/2056347 -(k)now (s)how- 4.5 02 13 What do you have to say for yourself? ~uhn, a sign(ed)~Tpond80
-in know; sent- 250 words
She ran through strategies she remembered from childhood: assemble the corners, sort by predominant color, complete the frame, place internal groupings. A bright white boom shook faded color to grey scale to black, leaving the illustrated cardboard box top devoid of information.
Maglocks, she thought, making her way to the bathroom. Security was important to her, as was the backup generator the property manager had forbidden her to install. Back flat on the tile floor, her fingers located the access latch.
"So very unfortunate,
this turn of events.
to heaven scents..."
Humming rose from the heating vent.
"Toothbrush to toilet
when we are through,
thank you, dear lady,
for all that you do.
"Yellow like the picture,
perfect in my mind.
Fading blossom crackles..."
"Did you find the candle?" came a sweet inquiry.
"I must have moved it to the drawer," the hummer rattled. "It won't take a moment. You're not afraid of a little darkness, are you?"
"Yellow like the picture,
perfect in my mind,
fading blossom crackles,
so little left behind."
"Thirty-one, thirty-two, no matter."
Humming ductwork wrapped concluding remarks.
""Laid out a clean towel and freshening things on the edge of the tub, sweetness," a clear voice directed away from the vent. "I know how you are about those everywhere things you can't see."
Candlelight bounced through the vent, casting a long thin shadow, out of place.
Two quiet screws later, Tessa removed an envelope: thirty-four brittle obituaries of youthful people; Hepatitis victims, origin unknown.
-all ice; one duhr land- 250 words
What was known about tables? Built in bookcases? The least likely book to be read?
The table was a table. As was the bookshelf and every book. Streaming dynamic were the codex and lexicons embedded and embodied within the maps; subjectively streamlined, some for perceived efficiency.
He opened the book, saw nothing and moved on. His nose pulled him and she did not interfere. She opened the book, pronounced the key and passed through the portal obscured.
Mushroom, arrow, pebble. She repeated the list in her mind, pausing for the flickering of image association. She placed the pebble in her cheek. There were many miles to walk. Octavia had taught her this.
In the absence of white knights talking backward she made her way down corridors mindfully. The stone warmed and she turned in a series somewhat uncomfortable. Left, left, left. Left, right, left. Right, left, right. Right, right, right. The corridor expanded.
Domed domicile, of heavenly arc:
Arched ark conveyance.
Return me to my proper place
Protected from the sway us.
Neither there among the stars,
Nor dust among the revolving,
But tempered between the two:
Stepping humbled within the space, each virtue on her heart, she took the pebble from her cheek and put it to its part. She named the vices left outside and closed her weary eyes. Turning through assimilated degrees, her arms would slowly rise. Many souls would stay to play. She knew there was no when. No win. No game.
-bell(e) horn's cha(i)n.ge- 250 words
It was a thinner-than-expected volume: leather bound, intricately embossed with few signs of wear.
The shelf was boldly labeled: REFERENCE MATERIALS for LIBRARY USE ONLY.
The book spine was less boldly labeled: Table 1 Use ONLY.
Table 1 supplied unique lighting; a low strung single filament orb which showed no hotspot beneath it, despite the surface proximity. The curator sat not more than twelve feet distant, positioned such that any movement at the table would be noticeable, regardless of immediate counter activity.
This was quite disturbing; near the last straw, in fact. The constant watching was becoming unbearable: sentries, cameras, glass, glass, glass! Fragile beings under glass, trying not to fry in sunshine or batter themselves between difficult to discern boundaries! He tucked the book into his shoulder bag, crossed the curator's counter area and strode across the threshold into the world of big, blue skies.
Tumbling down three stairs, the broad sidewalk caught him. Side to side, he saw densely superimposed amber wood grain tabletop. Fingertips ran along stair edge before he rose cautiously to his feet.
After precariously relocating the door knob, he inhaled, holding that breath until he had crossed back into the curiously clear room. He returned to the reference shelf, withdrew the book and went promptly to Table 1, choosing the chair which faced the curator. Belle Horn lifted one eyebrow and remained nonchalantly engaged.
He opened the cover. Upon the first page was written in ancient script: No need for embarrassment, everyone tries it.
Tpond 5 (Tpond90/Tpond100)
10012015/2059748 -Writer’s Edge- 3.0 01 19 grass, doughnut, lamp
10032015/2060095 -tongue tide- 0.0 00 15 Cat, newspaper, shoe, stone; Moon, beads, sign ~Purr (Eff)ect~
10052015/2060414 -no veil- 3.0 01 15 picture dark rock ~hi(de).n.s(n)eek~
11102015/2065036 -in know; sent- 4.0 01 12 puzzle, dark, no way to leave, eerie hum ~
11142015/2065361 -all ice: one duhr land- 0.0 00 15 wake inside game, mushroom, arrow, pebble ~b.r.it-ish~
11302015/2066996 -bell(e) horn's cha(i)n.ge- 4.5 01 22 library only, horn, chain, bell ~(n)vis.i.(t)able~
10212016 45v at add tweet