bdwilson: (Exercises)

He tried not to carry forth keepsakes. He was already burdened down by memories, he didn’t need the extra weight. It didn’t take long to realize it would be wise to hold onto a few things, however, and then it was hard to keep from tucking away things of less value. He hadn’t even pretended to believe things like the broken pottery would appreciate in value, but the future always surprised him.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

There were times I understood his choice. When I left another home, ran another time. When all I could see in my future was the freezer and wanted any fate but that.

Mostly, though, I remembered how broken our mother’s eyes were when I finally made it home. I remembered how everything he’d built was shattered with the bullet. I remembered how it didn’t stop the company from taking what it wanted.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

He read their past, spun as fantasy and published for children. Part of him wanted to hold it against Bea, but he’d been closer to her than the others and would forgive her almost anything. It wasn’t like there was a danger, not really, in her sharing the story. It just… hurt.

All they had done and all they had lost, spread across the pages. All he had lost.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

I thought, when I got into this, that I’d be telling the stories of those more lost than myself. It never seemed like a big thing, certainly not “of utmost importance” as my father would put it. Just an honest thing. After so many years racking muck for the sake of a byline and a paycheck, that seemed like enough.

Every face has a story, but every city has its secrets. The second is often connected to the first. We may not think, in our ever connected and thoroughly documented world, that there is anything left in the shadows, but if that were true, no one would ever disappear into them. All mysteries would be solved and all families able to mourn.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

It’s a cliché, but it’s still true: attachments are dangerous. I’ve done better than the other by using it as my guiding principle. Don’t set roots, keep moving, stay casual. But that’s a fucking lonely way to exist, especially when you’re on the outside looking in one what you want more than anything.

Never knew how much worse it’d be to get invited in.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

His life is predictable cycles. He’ll find the world impossibly young, knowing it’s only because he’s impossibly old, and take himself away from it, as though space lessens the need and time is anything but an enemy.

He counts, during these times, all the things it has taken from him, from the specifics of home and family to the generalities of language and culture. He uses them to keep himself apart, but it’s a battle he can’t win and the losses pileup until they almost crush the life out of him. Almost, but never completely. When wishing they could, wishing they would, becomes too strong, he has to close the distance just to keep from going mad.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

When I was a child, I can remember believing charms had magic and rhymes had power. The very connection between the words made cracks and errant steps dangerous to my mother, and rain could be banished to some distant point in the future. It never seemed to bother me that the storms didn’t stop immediately, or that my mother’s back remained intact even through occasional inattention.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

The city seemed to dim at night, the light of the business district shutting off below her. Rebbeca knew it was illusion, that the back streets were garishly bright, but she appreciated the effort all the same. Pretending the city needed its sleep even if its inhabitants didn’t, and night existed to have it.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

The streets were never truly dark anymore. Even when the streetlamps burnt out there were windows, signs, traffic light, more than enough to see by. Sometimes Gai missed the deeps shadows.

He didn’t need them, but he’d always enjoyed the illusion. The way people thought evil only lived in the dark and the light would protect them. He knew better, but it was a deception he’d allowed himself for years. Now he only gave it a hat tip by keeping his hunting to the night.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (NaNoWriMo 2012)

They were going through the records. Travis stood at the back of the analysis booth, hands folded behind his back, trying to keep his breathing even as his heart raced. They were going to find something. He didn’t know what — or he’d already have removed it — but he was certain they’d find him out.

Foolish. He knew better.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

Lorne sat on the window sear and pressed his palm against the surface of the glass. On the street below Brett waited at the edge of their walk. William jogged down to meeting him — running late, as always. Before they disappeared, Brett waved up at, and William ran backwards a few steps to give him a sloppy salute. Lorne rolled his eyes at his oldest brother, but still smiled. Just like he’d smiled when Jonathon stopped by before school — on time, as always — to swap his library books for new ones. They remembered he was there, at least.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

When was the last time someone asked me what my name really was? Hell, when was the last time I gave an honest answer?

This is a bad, bad idea. It was stupid enough going to Liev, but going home with him? Fuck, I must be nuts. I should leave before they wake up, but I know I won’t. I’m just too fucking tired, and no matter how much it hurts, I need to do this.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

The cities were all the same. Oh, they each claimed superiority: cleaner streets, more opportunities, focus on virtues, but it was all crap. Randall had been drifting long enough to see the claims were varnish and lies. It didn’t matter what rules they set or how many enforcers were on the streets, people found a way to let the dark corners take hold.

Arkadi, at least, didn’t try to pretend otherwise.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

There was a song in her dreams Xue could never place. It called to mind a river of flowing water, excitement, a tower on a cliff, wonder, a cavern in the earth, fear. It was a story in words she didn’t know and a melody she could never replicate.

Each year that went by, the song grew more distant, fainter. The mixture of images and emotions being replaced by a school bus and sorrow.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

The bar was empty. Not unusual for a ghost town, but Randall has still hoped to find a stray bottle or two. The dust on the shelves was as thick as the dirt on his boots, and the cracked mirror was too grimy to reflect anything but smears of colour. Black hat, black coat, back shirt, too pale white face, and he was so fucking sick of monochrome.

“We have to move out,” Jakob call through the broken door.

“What’s the rush?”

“Place to go, things to do, shit to break.”

“Same old, same old.”

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

Gai never felt the long years more than when he made the mistake of becoming attached, and this one threatened to have every second weighing down the scales. All that time, all his crimes, sinking to the table, unable to hold its own against light honest hope and studied naiveitee.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (NaNoWriMo 2012)

It’s been seven years, big brother, and I’m still here. You wouldn’t know me to see me, and not for the obvious reason. Everything has changed.

We tried so hard, but they took us one by one. It seemed like such a simple thing at the time. Get the tech, get your research, get revenge, then… get on with life? I never planned that far, not really. Maybe I expected to get caught. But here I am, and everyone else is gone.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

Tomas sat in a booth at the far back of the club and spun the ring on his finger. He hadn’t intended to do more than check the place out, but a few drinks later and he didn’t want to move anymore. The afternoon wasn’t busy, not even enough to call a crowd, but the dancers didn’t seem to mind. Some of them didn’t even seem to notice anyone was there, and he could picture the tox screens lighting up brighter than their costumes.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

The wide open spaces have a sorrow about them. Randall doesn’t think they’ve always had it, though propaganda would have people believe the cities were always the source of happiness. Something about the wind blowing over the exposed dirt, the back of tracks, the lack of life, doesn’t feel natural.

He’s seen the holos of deserts, of sand dunes as large as oceans with waves all their own. There’s solitude there, but not sorrow. It’s a natural space.

Thought the Corps deny it, Randall knows the dry earth he’s looking at now was once a forest. Ancient trees, wide leaves, underbrush growing in their shelter. It feels like the earth here remembers what it’s lost, is in mourning for the missing green.

He puts his hand on the ground, but he can’t feel life there — it isn’t his side of things. He feels the movement, the steady march toward whatever comes next, but it won’t be a forest again.

Not on its own.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

bdwilson: (Exercises)

There are days when the only way to feel the wind is to take to the roofs. Even within the limits of Arkadi they can’t stop the air from moving entirely, no matter how they try. The distence from the city below helps, as does the breeze on my face. It makes me forget it’s just as trapped as I am.

Read the rest of this entry » )

Mirrored from The Notebook

Profile

bdwilson: (Default)
BD Wilson

February 2017

S M T W T F S
   1234
567 8910 11
12131415161718
1920 2122232425
262728    

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 25th, 2017 04:38 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios