Outsiders

“Put the blinds down,” Mom called from the other room. “It’s getting dark. We don’t want what’s outside looking in.” It was only 4:30, but it was so dark on the other side of the window that the window was almost a mirror--I could see the living room rug floating out there, and behind it the kitchen lights and cupboards. But in between those reflections I could see the bare branches of the trees, and between those, already one outsider face peering back at me. Just the eyes, and the hint of a body. I let the blinds down with a thump.



The whole story (...but we're only talking 800-some words) is up at Everyday Weirdness (now in the archives, but I've edited the link).

Cabinet des Fées

There's a new issue of Cabinet des Fées up, and wow!

I went there to read one poem (a beautiful poem: "Harpsong for Heurodis," by Amanda Lord--read it!)

... and...

Couldn't stop.

Check out the story "Nor Yet Feed the Swine," by Keyan Bowes--featuring the best use of stitchery as a way to escape the fairy folk, plus good use of fairy logic all around--wonderful!

Or try Joshua Gage's take on the dark version of "Sleeping Beauty," in the poem "Talia, Risen" --especially how it ends... very shiverful.

At that point I decided I couldn't keep all this goodness for myself; had to share it. But the other titles are so intriguing, too... I think I'll try "The Wolf I Want," by Virginia Mohlere, next ...

... after I do a little paid work, or at least after I pay some bills...

bus station prophet

Yesterday I took the ninja girl to the bus station, and noticed the people there. This evening I went to pick her up, accompanied by the tall one and the healing angel.

This evening at the bus station there was a crazy person--older man, tall and lanky, with one milky-white blind eye, standing in the center of all the seats, speaking at random. “Shall I invite you to the wedding?” he said to one person. The tall one and I assiduously ignored him, heads bent over books. The healing angel was ignoring him too, concentrating (he told me later) on some missing tiling on the floor that looked like the Norse letter D.

The crazy man passed by us on the way to the bathroom, looked at the healing angel, and said, “You’re twelve, aren’t you.” And since the healing angel is twelve, he said, “Yes, I am.” And then the man said, “You know the scripture passage--‘Why were you searching for me? Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?’ Do you have the keys to the house yet? ....First the house keys, and then when you get to be a little older, the keys to the car!” And then he went into the bathroom.

It was a kind of stunning experience.

Little Springtime was disappointed she didn't get to come along... if I had known it would be such an adventure, I would surely have taken you, Little Springtime!