I am haunted by humans.

[jacktellslies]

I fell asleep after coming too soft for trying for too long. And I dreamed it dirty, and graphic to a hard fault. I've only had two such dreams, now, and both were of people I'd never want to touch, and both sickened me. Usually these dreams could have been true, or fail. They are soft and lack sense, like dreams do. But these ones are reasoned, and I know I won't forget them. I hate the things I know I won't forget. I wake up breathing hard and moving to it. I've come back from sleep coming, but only when I'm crushed breathless with disgust before it has even had the grace to end.

There are bits of mirror and tile in the alleyway closest to my street. It started as faces on plates, then lines, and then today, all at once, a little broken world found its way onto the walls. I passed them working in the rain as I walked home. "You did so much today! Thank you for decorating my block." Isaiah was there, and his wife (I sell her fish!) and some others. "Just keep walking here," he told me. I changed the way I walk as soon as the faces were there to watch. It is beautiful. It goes south. We do not deserve it, but we need it.

I finished The Book Thief, finally, after years and years (or something more like a few months). And this whole time I couldn't bear the thought of it ending, although I'd always known where the end would be. I cried until my bed was wet, until my boat slipped under everything. I'm holding it with me, although it isn't mine anymore. And despite that, four pages are creased, for remembering. I'll keep them, although you won't hear them. Not yet.








Immediately.
Her brother was next to her.
He whispered for her to stop, but he, too, was dead, and not worth listening to.
He died in a train.
They buried him in the snow.




2. Such a position of selflessness was a good
place to ask Liesel for the usual favor.
How could she possibly turn him down?
"How about a kiss, Saumensch?"
He stood waist-deep in the water for a few moments longer before climbing out and handing her the book. His pants clung to him, and he did not stop walking. In truth, I think he was afraid. Rudy Steiner was scared of the book thief's kiss. He must have longed for it so much. He must have loved her so incredibly hard. So hard that he would never ask for her lips again and would go to his grave without them.




When Papa came in, she did not turn to face him but talked across Max Vandenburg, at the wall. "Why did I have to bring all that snow down?" she asked. "It started all of this, didn't it, Papa?" She clenched her hands, as if to pray. "Why did I have to build that snowman?"
Papa, to his enduring credit, was adamant. "Liesel," he said, "you had to."




Those images were the world, and it stewed in her as she sat with the lovely books and their manicured titles. It brewed in her as she eyed the pages full to the brims of their bellies with paragraphs and words.
You bastards, she thought.
You lovely bastards.
Don't make me happy. Please, don't fill me up and let me think that something good can come of any of this. Look at my bruises. Look at this graze. Do you see the graze inside me? Do you see it growing before your very eyes, eroding me? I don't want to hope for anything anymore. I don't want to pray that Max is alive and safe. Or Alex Steiner.
Because the world does not deserve them.






Megan Etzel, thank you. Thank you. It will go to the next one. We should talk. I am cain son of eve. Thank you.

She worked so much today and yesterday: she is out of my bed by six thirty. She'll only be leaving the shop at midnight. I've made a midnight picnic: good rosemary bread and strawberries and apples and goat cheese and roasted tomatoes and even chocolate cake. I hope that she is awake for it. I hope on strong arms and on body scent for her happiness tonight, even if it is the exhausted kind. I hope hard.

I posted to vintage_sex today for the very first time, I believe. It won't at all surprise you, or if it does, it will be a matter of your confusing your history; it won't be me.

Oh, yes, this is fun. I'll play this once. Have I interests you do not understand? You should ask me. And then you should ask, too, if you like.