I am lucky enough to have a wonderful support structure around me now and I hope to take every opportunity to make use of it to push myself further, but also to contribute to it to help those I care about grow with me.
This post is due to the playful presence of a long-time friend of mine. Thank you!
The bag full of stone fruits weighed uncomfortably in her palm and played a scene of pain across her ruddy, dented cheeks. The cool night laid down a misting rain that only pricked her flushed face and caught her breath in plumes of fog as she exhaled.
“Six. Seven. Eeeeight.”
She peers a the lumbering giants that hoisted crates from deck to deck. On nights such as this the errant oarsmen gathered in the sound so near one another you could walk from one vessel to another across a slick mile of damn wood; each small boat a tile honoring its own axis by clapping the water between its neighbors.
Stella dreamt often of a life away from her always and gutters. Half of the merchants in this season’s market countered her theft in fingers due: small, bloody grubs that belonged to her small, pale hands. Her luck had failed her thrice but she boasted eight fingers regardless. One merchant, upon turning to retrieve his blade, turned back to find his knot insufficient and his juvenile thief escaped.
“Maybe I can trade peaches for refuge on a boat.”
Lonely nights and ostracized days taught Stella years ago: her fleas were her only willing audience.
These are completely raw, unedited ditherings on paper which are then typed up. I don’t count myself a writer, I just play around with it. :)