The AwareThe AwareThe Aware by starbuckwhalerider
The day I was Converted I was traveling down a dusty mountain road. I did not think of myself as a simple peasant girl, though that is what I was. The dust and commotion I saw down the mountain was coming quickly towards me. I had little time to react, but two girls dressed as I had never seen before in tight leather clothes with loose hair were the center of the action. And I saw the black eyes of the one on the right.
Ahead of me by a hundred yards or so was a group of laughing, chattering girls, whom moments ago I had been idly envying for their camaraderie and conversation. As I noticed the newcomers they were already in the thick of this group, slapping some of the girls with a curious yellow angled stick, and throwing the others off the cliff edge.
With no time to plan, the black-eyed one (I will not call her a girl, though she was vicious as only a female can be) was upon me. I did not want to die; I pitched her over the cliff.
VacancyBlank stares, Thursday morningVacancy by starbuckwhalerider
ignorantly they suspect
we ended. Without warning
you passed, shadows deforming,
pressed in my hand a check:
Blank. I stared, that Thursday morning,
as my words half-forming,
tried to plead for your respect;
ended. Without warning,
shoes squeaking at the turning,
you taught me to expect
blank stairs. That Thursday morning
my body left in mourning
life within ended, your respect
ended without. Warning
you were not conforming
to what I chose to expect
your blank stare on Thursday morning
ended me without a warning.
|Lifelong craftswoman, I work most often in fiber (clothes, quilts, spinning, knitting). I also love working with wire and metal, leather, jewelry materials, and found objects. Almost all my materials are already-loved. I also really like steampunk. I like to work slowly and by hand, with as little between me and the work I am doing as possible.|