Orientation... Straight
I'm here for... Friends, Art and Contacts
I'm into... Writing Music Mind Learning Reading Friends
I'm working on... Grad school apps portfolios, several novels all vying to be my first, short stories
My sites... http://www.bending-spoons.com
My Profiles...
http://www.myspace.com/crimsonladybug
http://www.last.fm/user/CrimsonLadybug/
About me
Interests
Music
Punk
, post-punk
, alternative
, very old country
, classic rock
, indie - AFI
, Kill Hannah
, Death Cab for Cutie/Postal Service
, Dashboard Confessional
, Joy Division
, The Cure
, Neko Case
, The White Stripes
, Social Distortion
, Maroon 5...a more comprehensive list can be found on my Last.fm profile :)
Books
Currently reading: American Gods by Neil Gaiman
To be read: And the Ass Saw the Angel by Nick Cave
Favorites: The Forever King by Molly Cochran & Warren Murphy
, The Portable Dorothy Parker
, Firestarter and Carrie by Stephen King
Heroes
Dorothy Parker for who she was
, Amelia Atwater-Rhodes
, Conor Oberst and Jena Malone for what they accomplished before they were 20
, my best friend Heather
, my sorority sisters JP and Laura for their strength in making the hard decisions.
Pet Charities
S. June Smith Center
Free Arts for Abused Children in association with the Elliott Smith Memorial Fund
One.org - I've had my band for two years
, where is yours?
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[ view all ] Latest Writing
I Wish I Were the Moon
May 4, 2008Sleep.
Sleep.
Even the voice in her head was too exhausted to manage more than a whisper. She sighed and allowed her head to sink into the soft solace of the pillow. Smooth, cool cotton enveloped her, soothing the weather-worn leather flesh of her face. Eye lashes blurred her vision as top and bottom came together in the middle but the lids refused to close over aged grey eyes.
They had been blue, shining like the Caribbean - cerulean water littered with perfectly imperfect diamonds, the moon dancing off of them while he had danced beside her. When she was young, her eyes had been blue.
Sleep.
Life had made her tired. So tired that sleep was a treasure greater than any man, alive or dead, had ever seen, and just as elusive. She had lain awake, watching the moon, every night for years. She couldn’t remember sleeping since he’d slept beside her. Even as he grew more frail, sleep had begun to evade her. Nights would slip by unnoticed and it would be morning before she’d had a chance to close her eyes.
She lay, facing the window, the billowing curtains gently brushing her life-hardened face in the warm breeze, and spoke quietly to the moon.
“I am so tired. I wish I could join you. I wish I could be you. I wish I were the moon.”
Again, eye lashes drifted together and blurred her vision. When they separated once again, he stood between her and the open terrace door. His skin was a pale, stark contrast to the black linen suit that danced with the curtains and the breeze. Large silvery eyes watched her, dull with sympathy and a weariness of their own.
“I am tired.” He whispered back to her, leaning close so she could hear, so close his lips brushed her cheek as he spoke. “I am also tired.”
“I wish I were the moon.” She stirred against the cool cotton sheets.
He touched his fingers to her breast. “Your heart hurts.”
“I am tired.”
“Sleep. When you awake your heart will not hurt.”
“Sleep.” He was gone. The moon was gone. The billowing curtains against her face were gone. Darkness surrounded her. Sleep enveloped her. She sighed once more as the world around her vanished in a veil of sleep.
The morning moon still shone in the sky. He touched her cheek. Cold, life-hardened leather touched back and he knew she had gone peacefully. He crossed himself, kissed her forehead and turned to look at the morning moon against the pale blue sky.
There was something different in the moon this morning. As it sank in the sky, giving way to the midday sun, he thought, somehow, the moon was satisfied.
[ view all ]My Unauthorized Biography
Please don't misunderstand. I don't think I have any business writing novels either but, like I said, it's the only thing I know how to do.
So, please take a few minutes to read over the words that have been posted here for you to read. Words that, like baby birds, have been violently shoved from their cozy nests and forced to learn to fly or crash to the ground in a broken heap.
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