Window Sale! Up to 80% off!

Did last week’s earthquake leave your windows shattered and your walls bare? Is your living room no longer warmed by the sun of a summer afternoon in the French countryside? Do you miss the singing of birds or the crashing of waves in the mornings?

Then don’t miss out on Martin’s Windows after-quake sale! 

Up to 80% off on genuine certificated second-hand windows. Vintage and modern! Guaranteed safe real windows and not artifically manufactured. All real, safe vistas for your home. 

Some of our personal favourites:

The marching band: Brighten up your living room with the view of a lovely town, decked with garlands. Every day at 2pm you will be delighted by a parading brass band and flower petals falling from the top floors’ windows. Blue skies assured, as well as light rains at night. 

The rose garden: Give a romantic touch to any room, with this floor-level view of an 18th century rose garden. This one comes with faint distant music, birdsong, and the year-long fragrance of flowers. 50% off if bought in a set with any other garden vista. 

The skyscraper: Take your apartment to new heights with this 60th floor urban view. You will not want curtains for this window, for its time to shine is when thesun goes down. Perfecly isolated for a calm night in or a study session. All the glamour with none of the cars and voice. 

The Christmas cabin: Just in time for the season, cuddle up with a blanket and a mug of hot chocolate next to this winter landscape. Watch the snow fall endlessly and listen to the carols as the sun goes down. Silent night guaranteed with this seasonal window. 

The high seas: Not for those that suffer from sea sickness! This highly kinetic view will have you dreaming of beaing a pirate. Rolling waves, passing dolphins and seagulls, and the calming sea to lull you to sleep. 

The observatory: The first of a new line of ceiling windows! Why settle for your walls when you can have the night sky on your ceilings. This permanent view of a clear night sky is both educational and beautiful. Turn your lights off and lose yourself in the cosmos!

How to use Martin’s Windows: 

- Place gently over the wall. Do not push old windows that might have brittle glass. Make sure the view is not crooked. 

- Place with the marked side facing you. Placing a window backwards with render it unusable as anything other than a mirror. 

- Windoes can be opened safely, but please do not throw objects, food or garbage out of the windows as this can damage the view. 

- Watch for chips or cracks on the glass. If any are detected, the window must be uninstalled and brought for disposal. 

- If you notice anything weird or off with the vista, the window must be immediately uninstalled and brought for disposal. These might include:                       -Time passing too slow, fast or not at all.                       - New people in the landscape or people/figures/animals where there shouldn’t be.                       - People in the landscape looking at the window or a you or trying to interact with you.                        - Warped or unfamiliar sounds or voices.                        - Anything that would not happen in the real world or that goes against any natural law.                        - As we put it: “if the sky is a void, your guarantee is too!”

- If a window is broken, do no try to fix it yourself. Fixing a window counts as creating a new one, and this is not only dangerous but goes against federal law. 

Remember: Accept only authentic, second-hand, real windows. Manufacturing artificial windows, recycling damaged ones, or owning any of these is punishable by law. Manufactured and/or recycled windows have been proven as unsafe and unreal. Protect yourself and your loved ones from harm. Real means life. Artificial means death. 

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl is saving up for the next semester, thank you ;u;]

Another kind of creature dwells in this forest

Take care when crossing the forest, son.

You should not fear the wolves, for they are harmless if you don’t listen to their words. Nor should you fear the fae, as you already know how not to fall in their traps and your father has taught you how to barter with them.

Another kind of creature dwells in this forest.

Long ago we tried to trap them behind stone walls, but they always broke free of their prisons. Admitting defeat, we sent them to the forest, hoping they would be devoured by the wild beasts. But they thrived.

You see, they can talk to the wild animals and make them do their bidding.

Do not bother with your sword. Blades have drawn their blood, water has closed over their heads, and smoke filled their rooms, yet they always come back from the dead.

Some say they never die, but rather slip into a peaceful sleep and wake up as you would with the song of birds.

We tried leaving poisoned food to keep them away from our homes, but the most lethal of poisons just leave them unconscious for a few days.

Men have tried to hunt them for the jewels that fall from their mouth when they speak, but it’s not worth it. They forget some of them can call forth venomous reptiles from between their lips.

Take care when crossing the forest, son. Do not fall for their tricks! Their singing voices are enchanting and will lure you directly to their lair.

They can dance for days and never get tired, do not think you can outrun them.

Their hair is golden thread and they always look innocent and angelic, clad in silk dresses, with rose petals in their hair and the smell of lilies heralding their presence. If you come across a beautiful woman in the woods, do not take her hand.

Do not believe her promises of love, wealth, and power.

If you value your life, never fall in love with them. A kiss is the source of their power.

Take with you this cursed needle, and this poisoned comb. Take the thorny stem of this rose. Stay in the path, stay quiet. Do not whistle or sing a song.

Take care when crossing the forest, son.

For it is where the princesses dwell.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts (and is a lil broke at the moment) ;u;]

Pas de deux

(something I wrote for a contest… and then forgot to send. classical me. anyway, it’s about ballerinas falling in love)

Première. It is both about the dance and the story. You are both an athlete and an actress. Hug that ballerina like she is your real mother. Dance with the prince like he is the love of your life. Die like you have really been pierced through the heart.

After a while, it starts feeling like the same story. Dance for happiness, die of love. Glide en pointe like a fairy... But often like a ghost.

There are no pas de deux for two women. It is not surprising as we are, more often than not, rivals. Odile taking Odette's place. Gamzatti's venomous gift to Nikiya. Giselle confronting Myrtha to save Duke Albrecht.

 Seconde. Giselle's beloved, Duke Albrecht, lies to her and asks for her hand in marriage. In fact, he is engaged to Duchess Bathilde and looking to have an affair with a country girl. When Giselle finds out, she goes mad and dies. And, after he shows signs of regret, she protects him from the other vengeful spirits like her.

I don’t think he deserved that kind of unconditional love.

 Troisième. "Did you know most ballerinas are lesbians?" He joked, chuckling, after I told him I was going to join a new studio.

I looked up at him, my arm still locked around his. I was not laughing.

"And?"

 Quatrième. Natalie is Myrtha. I am Giselle. With her long black hair, her strong legs, and her piercing icy blue eyes she is perfect for the role. She raises us up from the grave with graceful yet commanding moves. She orders Hilarion to dance to death without a single regret in her glare, and turns her head as his corpse is thrown in the lake.

I find myself again, and again in wonder with her. When I dance, my eyes keep finding hers locked on me, and a soft smile on her lips.

She asks me to stay after the dress rehearsal to practice. Even thought, it’s already dark outside, I say yes. The stage is empty and dark, moonlight pouring from a window. Through the veil covering my head, it seems like I am in the misty forest at midnight. Natalie dances as Myrtha, conjuring me up from the grave. She walks up to me and leans close to lift up my veil.

 Cinquième. And places a kiss on my lips, like I am her bride. She kisses and brings me back to life, the prince to my Aurora. She keeps dancing and I recognize the parts as my pas de deux with Duke Albrecht. I dance with her in the moonlight like she has risked her life and ventured through the woods in the dark for me. I dance with her like I am vowing to protect her from anything that could harm her. This night Albrecht doesn't come. This night Giselle dances with Myrtha in the forest, the graveyard, the field of white lilies. This night, Myrtha kisses Giselle again.

This time, the sunrise and the church bells do not tear them apart.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts (and is a lil broke at the moment) ;u;]

Knight of the stars

I. She picks them up from their nebula cradle and holds them between her hands: a small cluster of photons, shifting and ringing rhythmically like a faint, broken song. You, still being born from a shard of the cold, frozen void. When your hands form, she lets you hold them, carefully. She tells you they are now your life. She tells you your mission is to protect them. She tells you that, no matter how strong the call of the spaces between the stars is, their gravity will always pull you back.

You remember wondering how you’re meant to keep safe something so small and fragile.

II. They are weak and colder than any of the other stars. After some millennia, you realize they will never be as radiant as their mother, with her blue-white flaming hair.

Their hair is white and their eyes golden and they might be weak, but when you sleep near them, curled up against their light, your dreams are sweet and your bones no longer feel cold.

A single planet hangs over their chest, like an emerald medallion, only inhabited by small water microorganisms. When your star fiddles with it, the skies clear and the tides rise and drop.

III. The others say your talent with the sword is being wasted on someone with such lowly status. They offer you riches, power, glory in the bigger wars that they fight. You stand between them and your star, sword raised like a barrier against the other stars.

IV. The first time they kiss you, their name (unreadable, unpronounceable to you) sears your forehead. The next time, you ask them to kiss you on your chest.

V. They take your hand and lead you out of the ballroom, down the stairs, into the garden. Small comets fly between the flowers.  They kiss you in the shadow behind the fountain, and giggle when they hear one of the higher stars demanding their presence. As you cover their glow with your cloak, you wonder if you can protect them from their family the same way you keep other threats away.

VI. A letter, written in blood. A word, whispered in the right ear. You don’t know what it took but the charges are clear: High Treason. The sentence, immovable: Death.

You watch as they take your star away. You hear their screams as they tell the others that they’re wrong, that they have the wrong person. But you know that’s not true, they have just who they want. The annoyance they want gone. They easy target to place the blame on.

VII. Standing on the edge of a black hole (you have never seen something so terrible in your life) they are asked to either go supernova or freeze and fade. With tears in their eyes, they refuse, and they are pushed back towards the ledge, close to the swirling darkness.

And what can you do? Can you stand against the rulers of the skies? Do you have a chance against the bringers of life?

Your star looks at you, bright tears on their face. Their feet falter on the edge. Their fingers start turning grey.

The next thing you know your sword is in your hands, the blade breaking from the molten light that bleeds from the stars . You push some of them into the black hole and their light fades in the most chilling way you can imagine. Your hand grasps your star’s hand as they fall, your fingers intertwined.

 VIII. You were too late. The light fades from their eyes as you hold them between your arms. You cradle their face between your hands, and remember the first thing you ever did was hold them this way. That night, the microorganisms evolve to live in eternal darkness.

 IX. When you take them to the mother, her cries and her tears break your heart. Yet she outstretches her hand towards your face, understanding your pain. She forgives you, and her forgiveness stings more than anything. You expected her to scream at you, to punish you for failing your mission. You deserve it. Yet she shares your pain, and she understands it.

 X. It’s only a few years (a breath of an instant) until a stranger arrives from the dark between the stars, the place you were born in. They make an offer: bring them back to life in exchange of servitude back in the cold, eternal night.

That is impossible. And if it’s not impossible, it’s probably against all laws of nature. And dangerous. But you have no heart to warn the mother against this.

 XI. They are not a star now; their medallion sports a dull gem. They are closer to what you are now, with their armor shining silver. But their smile is the same and their eyes are still gold. They no longer remember being a star, the parties, the palaces, or that you were their knight. But they do remember your eyes. And they remember loving you. 

XII. The light is gone and they are cold now. But when you wrap your arms around their shoulders, they still feel warm.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;] [half the credit for this goes to @littlegumshoe because they have great ideas]

Initial questionnaire

Thank you for applying for a position at our company! We appreciate you showing interest in the work we do and wanting to be part of our prestigious team.

This questionnaire, provided by your interviewer, will help us know more about you. It should not take you more than fifteen minutes. Your interviewer will go through some of the answers with you. Thank you for your time!

List what you think are your three greatest strengths:

How did you hear about us? ☐ A friend ☐ Another employee ☐ Employment website ☐ The newspaper ☐ Found yourself here

I am available to work (check all applicable): ☐ Monday to Friday ☐ Weekends ☐ Nights ☐ Full time ☐ Part time  ☐ 24/7 shifts ☐ Forever

How did you get here? ☐ Public transport ☐ My own car ☐ Walking ☐ I do not know

You receive a phone call; how do you answer? (check only one answer) ☐ Good morning, my name is [legal name], how may I help you? ☐ Hi, what’s the problem? ☐ Good morning, my name is [real name], how may I help you? ☐ I do not answer

What do you hear on the other side of the call? (check only one answer) ☐ A customer ☐ An IT technician ☐ Nothing ☐ Birds singing ☐ My own voice

A client has a problem you do not know how to solve, what do you do? ☐ I ask a coworker ☐ I ask my coordinator ☐ I cannot ask anyone, the office is empty ☐ I ask myself on the other side of the mirror ☐ I know how to solve it

What door did you use to enter? ☐ The main door ☐ The red door ☐ The door behind the building ☐ The walled door

What answer did you give to the doorman’s question? _______________ Did you lie? ☐ Yes ☐ No

Did you meet anyone on your way to this office? ☐ Yes ☐ No What did they look like? _____________________

 Tell us what you know about us:

 Tell us what you think we know about you:

 What do you wish to gain from working at our company?

What are you willing to give in exchange?

Do you know your interviewer’s name? _____________

Please hand this questionnaire now to your interviewer and give them time to go through the answers. Thank you for your cooperation. We wish you luck in your interview!

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;] [Feel free to keep the suspension of disbelief alive and fill this or use it as a writing prompt as long as you credit me and link back to the original!]

Charming coffee places you should definitely check out!~

I love going out for tea or coffee; sometimes with my friends, sometimes by myself to savor the peace and qiet. Lately I’ve discovered some interesting coffee shops, and I thought I would share my favorite ones with you. 

Oh, and don’t worry, I’ve noticed you can find at least one or two of these in every town, so I want to believe this is mostly relevant for everyone.  

The coffee shop with the flower decals on the big window:

The fancy bakery with the white columns:

The two-story Starbucks on the main street:

The small café with the green door:

The roadside diner on the edge of town:

Overall, I’ve had a great experience in all the establishments. If you decide to go, remember to always pay for your drinks and tip your barista. And if you take pictures of your food to post them on social media, remember to tag the food places so other people can know about them!

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;]

[This is 100% fictional nonfiction, that is, it’s not real. Please enjoy the story, let it inspire you, but be nice to your real-world baristas and tip them ouo]

(wrote another piece in the Heaven Machine setting by @senshi76, here’s a brief overview of this setting!)

ACT ONE

i.i. There are towns where they sacrifice their children for a few months of safety. It's horrible. Who could give up their children's lives like that?

i.ii. They call Judith’s name. I hug her against my chest.

i.iii. I scream at the other mothers; they turn their backs on me. Cowards. (I was a coward until now.)

i.iv. They try to pry her from my arms. I lash out. The next thing I know I’m running barefoot, holding my children’s hands with both of mine. 

i.v. We sing a song as loud as we can, trying to ignore the Choirs. It's the song we always sing before bedtime.

i.vi. One of the voices is missing.

i.vii. My youngest was left behind. I could not take him with me. Mom is so sorry, Asher, please forgive me, please. I will never forgive myself.

ACT TWO

ii.i. Our home is on the edges. A wall of brass and porcelain sprawls as far as our eyes can see.

ii.ii. On one side: a safe passage, most of the time.

ii.iii. On the other side: The Choirs sprawling and reverberating and clicking and twisting. Our home is built from an archway, keeping  both separated and connected at the same time.

ii.iv. Asher found his way home. I was so relieved, we all cried, we all hugged. All my children were finally home with me.

ii.v. Asher is sick.

ii.vi. Birds like it here. I take their meat to the next settlement over. I make necklaces from their bones and sell them. It’s some extra money, but we do not really need it to survive.

ii.vii. I teach my children new songs every day. I warn them not to go to the backyard.

ii.viii. Asher is very sick these days. He can no longer play with his siblings.

ACT THREE

iii.i. A young Apostle makes his way to the next settlement. Only a few days to the west. A pack of provisions on his back. This passage has been safe for years, they say.

iii.ii. A woman walks towards him, her dark hair undone and flying in the wind. “Please help me! One of my children is sick. I have three children, and I cannot leave the others alone ; will you take him to the next settlement? I will pay you! Please!”

iii.iii. The Apostle agrees. She takes him to her house, lodged in the middle of a wall of brass and porcelain. He follows her inside and hears the voices of children greeting their mother.

iii.iv. A blow to the head, and he sees no more.

iii.v. He is woken up by glaring gold light. His earmuffs are gone. Around him, all is porcelain and brass. He is on the other side of the house. And this passage is not safe anymore.

iii.vi. The sound of wings like a murder of crows. He stands and bang on the door, shouting, threatening, crying, pleading for his life.

iii.vii. On the other side, two children loudly sing a nursery rhyme with their mother.

iii.viii. The song of the Choirs is deafening, like a million voices behind his back. He does not dare turn. He screams to muffle the song.

iii.ix. They get closer. One of the voices sings the same melody as the children.

EPILOGUE

They are always gone. They become a new playmate for Asher. They join the Song. Sometimes, sadly, they leave bones behind. I make them into necklaces.

EXEUNT

There are towns where they sacrifice their children for a few months of safety. It's horrible. Who could give up their children's lives like that?

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;] 

How it feels to be loved by a mortal.

Icarus did not go down quietly. 

He soared and he laughed and he shouted, and he opened his arms towards the Sun. 

The star’s glare blinded his eyes, blistered his fingers, burned his face. The wax melted and boiled down his back and legs. 

This is how it feels to be loved by the Sun.

Icarus fell. The wind deafened. They say he fell beneath the waves. His blinded eyes did not see the jagged rocks waiting for him like a beast’s open maw. 

He sunk. He drowned.

But Icarus did not go down quietly. 

He outstretched his arms and reached towards the Sun. He grabbed apollo by his golden locks and 

dragged 

                him

                         down

                                  into the dark waters. 

The sky turned the color of blood.

                                                            And drowned Apollo with him. 

The sky went dark.

                         “This is how it feels to be loved by a mortal.”

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;] [yes, this is a rewriting/ampliation of this]

The door in my backyard

[a friend suggested I write a story in the style of reddit’s nosleep and post it there and I thought it was an interesting exercise so here it is. I wrote the How to deal with street cats piece while writing this, so you will notice similar themes] [here’s the nosleep post]

Sometimes we don’t notice things unless we focus on them. You won’t notice the feeling of your clothes’ weight on your body, or the fact that you’re blinking reflexively unless I tell you. Then you cannot stop noticing for a while, and it can become uncomfortable.

I spent three years at a dorm that faced an elementary school’s yard. And on the third year, on Christmas, I noticed they had planted a big pine tree on the garden.

It’s so weird they would splurge on planting such a huge tree for Christmas. Especially when most of the children are home for the holidays, I told my friend.

She laughed at me and explained that the tree had been there since before I moved in. And I had never noticed it was there. For me, it was just an unnoticeable detail of the landscape.

I guess I’m trying to justify the fact that, after I moved to a small town for work, I didn’t notice the small wooden door on my backyard for a year.

How to deal with street cats

(NOTE: do not follow cats with mismatched eyes. You can pet them, but the moment they run away you should immediately turn your back to them and walk in the opposite direction.)

Black cats:

Orange cats:

White cats:

Calico cats:

Remember to always take some food with you, something made of iron, and comfortable shoes.

And remember to always be nice to the cats!

[russian translation by @rachell-redacted]

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;]  @senshi76 gave me the suggestion for this one!

I. THE MONSTER

There is a monster in the woods.

They say it eats human flesh.

They say it can take human form.

And they say it will make you turn against your loved ones and feed them to it.

 II. THE CROWN

Your father, the king, is abdicating. You, his only daughter, with a twin brother. Tradition states the crown belongs to him, not you.

You have always challenged tradition.

“Bring me the head of the monster. Lay it at my feet during the crowning ceremony. And you shall be queen.” That is your father’s sentence. That is your promise.

The light of dawn turns the golden spires pink the morning you ride into the forest, your bow and arrows on your back and your sword by your side.

  III. THE FOREST

The golden city is in a constant war with the forest. The streets and the buildings advance at its edge, and the vines grow over the buildings until they are uninhabitable and the ever-present white roses bloom from their ruins.

The roses grow wild. On the ground, over trees, from the trees. The smell is not unpleasant, but strong enough to make your head light. It sends a clear message: you are not welcome here.

 IV. THE ARROW

Days later, you find her bathing in a pond, in a clearing where the smell of the flowers is softer. A pair of deer antlers sprout from her head and there are white roses and sweet marjoram flowers in her hair. She has not seen you.

Don’t think twice. Prepare your bow.

And shoot.

Your arrow misses by an inch and she turns, startled. At the sight of her golden eyes, your horse bucks and you fall to the ground. You hit your head. The last you hear is the sound of water.

 V. THE WOMAN

The first thing you see when you open your eyes is her face. She is certainly the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. Yet you come to your senses and get away from her, sword in hand.  

You call her a monster. She calls you a monster in return.

“You invade my forest. You attack my sisters. And now you call us monsters? You used to call us faeries until you decided you did not care for our home.”

There is more like her.

“You eat human flesh.”

“We eat butterflies.”

“You are taking human form to confuse me.”

“This is my real form. It is not human.”

You step closer, hoping she doesn’t notice your faltering grip on your sword. She turns and walks calmly back into the forest. You hear her voice even after she has left.

I will not be harmed here. You, however, will not make it out without help. You will call for me.

 VI. THE LOVER

Days pass. You are out of food. You have not seen a single animal. You keep walking, the forest a tunnel of trees and moss. No matter the turns or the steps, you always end up stepping into clearing and into the pond. But you will die before falling deeper into the monster’s trap.

You smell sweet marjoram as you lie weak and hungry on the edge of the pond. She kneels next to you and brings you fruit, honey and butterflies. You did not call for her, but she came.

She sings you to sleep and tells you of her sisters. She tells you of the forest and how to traverse it. She promises to guide you back home. She takes your hand and leads you through the labyrinth that is her home. She sings and, for the first time, you see birds.

When the night comes, you kiss her. And her lips taste of fruit, honey and butterflies.

 VII. THE MONSTERS

They say there is a monster in the woods. She is a faerie.

They say she eats human flesh. She eats butterflies.

They say she can take human form. She is more beautiful than any human woman.

The golden doors open to the crowning ceremony. The music and the dances stop and all eyes are on you as you walk up to your father, head high.

“Well?” he says, a smug smile on his face.

“I bring the head of the monster that has terrorized the kingdom.”

“And where is it?”

You unsheathe your sword, giving him or the guards no time to react. And you slice his head off.

And you lay it at his feet.

 VIII. THE QUEEN

They say there is a monster in the woods.

The throne room is silent as a tomb. Terror settles in the eyes of the guests, of the guards. When you turn, they do not dare meet your gaze.  The door opens. She is here, and her sisters with her.

“I introduce you to your monster,” you say, extending you hand. “Under my rule, you are welcome in this kingdom.”

At the cue, they move inside. Everyone stares at them in awe. All of them sport the antlers and the crowns of rose and marjoram.

She walks up to you and circles you with her arms.  

“Thank you,” she says.

“For saving your home?”

“For giving the kingdom back to its rightful queen.”

They say it eats human flesh.

The screams deafen you. Her sisters lunge at the guests, at their throats, at their faces. You step back but she is still embracing you.

Her hand digs into your chest and holds your heart, almost tenderly.

They say she can take human form.

Nails too long, teeth too sharp. Maybe it was a disguise, maybe you are noticing too late. As your blood mixes with your father’s blood, she holds your head gently and takes your crown.

There is a monster in the woods.

And she is a queen.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;]

For the gate is wide

and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many.

(this short story/character background is set on @senshi76‘s Heaven Machine setting, read more about it here)

They sit around the fire, talking about their old friends at the mine. Remember when Elijah accidentally stepped into the women’s bathhouse? Or when Esther brought fresh fruit from the next city over to share with all of them after her wedding? The next moment she notices they are tapping on her hand with a certain rhythm, a certain cadence. She gently interlaces her fingers with theirs.

“Hanan, please be a dear and go find something to feed the fire. It’s starting to get cold.”

They sign to her in agreement and stand up, walking into the dark of the ruins. She needs not worry, nothing will ever harm them, no matter how deep they go into the Machine.

She can’t hear them, but she is sure they’re humming.

—

When Sarai was fifteen a badly-timed explosion at the mine left her deaf. A constant hum in her ears and little else. Some people considered it a blessing. Her parents considered it a curse when she was sent to work at the outskirts of the city, where among coal sometimes you could find golden cogs and pieces of machinery.

She slowly started noticing the changes people suffered. They were slow and not as dramatic as she had seen on some of the Apostles that travelled through the city. Someone would start singing and everyone would shut them up, she would find a woman with her gaze lost into one of the tunnels, someone would be working for hours with a smile on their face and not notice the huge gash on their arm, eyes too bright, fingers too long…

Many of them were transferred elsewhere before she got to see what happened next.

Hanan arrived to cover one of these vacancies. They said the Apostle that had taken them there had died on the way. They didn’t seem extremely affected by the loss. But no one minded. How could they? Hanan was charming, cheery and hard-working. They brought a different light with them into their sector. In just a few months they had become everyone’s friend. When they sang, everyone followed. They even learned sign language to be able to talk to her, faster than anyone had.

And she fell for them. Of course she did. For hair that looked like woven gold and amber eyes that shone in the few hours of sun they got during the day? And the warm smile and that… general charm? How couldn’t she? Maybe if she had paid more attention she would have noticed why they spent so much time with her, or how their signs had a cadence very similar to dancing, the same cadence as when they tapped words on her hands, or the same cadence as when they actually danced.

Sarai eventually came around to it. Maybe too late, who knows? But she started noticing the amount of people being transferred or outright going missing after Hanan arrived. She started paying attention to their mannerisms. She started seeing the meaning behind their words. When they sang, everyone followed.

Oh God, when they sang, everyone followed.

Sarai knew she had to take them away from other people. The thought of telling a supervisor never went through her head. She started asking Hanan about the Machine, about the Angels. She expressed how she wanted to see it, to go outside where the sun shines on the gilded surface of the Machine for more than two hours a day. They planned their escape as if they were eloping.

And the moment they were far enough from civilization she pointed her gun at them.

“I know what you’re doing,” she said. “And let me tell you it’s not for you to decide. I don’t know for how long, but I’m still my own person. Do you understand?”

She couldn’t be sure if they were telling the truth. But she wasn’t going to leave them behind. In any case, she had always wondered what was outside her small mining town. And the Machine was no danger to Hanan.

How to change someone that was already following Its Plan?

—

It’s not cold. She lied. She hasn’t felt cold in a while. Or tired. Or hungry.

Yet Hanan still makes them stop and still brings her food and makes sure she drinks. She wonders why.

It’s tragic in a sense. They have never lied to her and have always been completely honest in that they believe this is for the best. That they want for her what they can never be. That they want her to live forever or to, quite literally, go to Heaven.

She scratches the palms of her hands and looks at them, searching for bumps or slits, but there’s nothing yet.

Sometimes her back hurts and when Hanan runs their hands over it to soothe her she can feel the riges of her bones getting sharper. She stretches and leans back against the rock.

When the nephilim comes back she smiles when they do. At least, for now, she is safe. Safer than anyone else traversing the Machine, she believes.

And sometimes when they dance, she follows.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;]

(5/?)

(tag)

v. on bodies

Lucia comes back from the laundry room and finds the angel squirming on the floor, mouth open in agony. Two arms, no wings. Muscle and skin growing, covering the extra limbs and their halo. They clutch at their stomach and curl up, twitching.

Her basket drops but makes no sound. There room is completely silent despite the chaos in it. She scratches and feels around her ears wondering if she has gone deaf. She notices Segull scratching at their hair too, as honey-colored curls (very similar to hers) gro from their scalp. Kneeing next to them, she gently but firmly holds their hands, fingers stained in golden blood.

When it’s over, the first thing she hears is the angel’s panting, and she sighs in relief, coughing to be sure she can hear herself again.

Seagull looks certainly more human now. A normal number of limbs and eyes, no wings… Their skin is a few shades warmer, no longer looking like just polished obsidian. Their irises are still shine gold.

They look so perfect. Unnatural eyes, angular face that’s a bit too alien to be fully human. They look just like someone just out of the Gilded Quarter and it’s such a strange juxtaposition to see them curled up on her dirty floor. She notices with a smirk their hair is similar to hers, as is their nose, and their overall body shape…

“Did you just… scream silence?” she asks.

“Thought it would be safer. So I altered how sound worked for me.” For once their voice comes from their throat, and the angel seems just as surprised as her.

“Of course you did. Give me a warning next time, okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

They try to stand up and stumble, opening their arms wide, trying to find the same balance without the weight of their wings. Lucia holds their hand and helps them take a few steps on her room.

Turns out their choice of body was useful. Her clothes fit them perfectly, if only the sleeves are a bit too short. (They rub their arms through the fabric, run their hands over the fabric, roll the sleeves up and down, always finding it uncomfortable.)

They keep trying their voice, sometimes shouts sometimes inaudible whispers. (Sometimes they find themselves waiting for her answer when they have said nothing.)

“You’ll get the hang of it.” she reassures them.

Turns out being a mortal is harder than it seems.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;]

(4/?)

(tag)

iv. on the end of the world

“So, what are you doing here?” asks Lucia. “Is it the end of the world?”

The angel is now leaning over her apartment’s small balcony, with barely space for their now four wings, crammed uncomfortably against the concrete walls.

“No.” Several golden eyes on their back and wings focus on her. “Why do you ask?”

Lucia shrugs.

“I think about it a lot.” She swiftly changes topic. “So, what have you come for? Did you fall or something?”

The fiery halo blazes blue and grows in size. Lucia fears for her shirts hanging on the wire above their head.

“No!” Their voice resonates inside her head with something close to panic.

“Sorry…” Lucia scratches her neck, uncomfortable. “Are you going to tell me?”

The flames shrink back.

“Yes. I’ve been sent to find a chosen one. A person with a very important mission. Eight were sent before me… And all of them seem to have failed.”

Lucia raises her eyebrows.

“A messiah.”

“Yes. A… martyr, to be more exact.”

She lets out a long whistle.

“Well, good luck. Tell me if there’s something easy I can help with.” She looks at the alarm clock as she speaks. Six in the morning.

“I will.” A pause. “I thought your kind needed to sleep.”

“Mhm? Ah, yeah. I don’t sleep much, though. I’m used to sleepless nights.”

“Why? Isn’t that harmful?”

Lucia plays with a lock of her hair, shrugs.

“I get nightmares.”

“Nightmares?”

“Like… bad images while we sleep. Usually they’re scary.”

“Images of what?”

“The end of the world.”

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;]

(2/?)

(tag)

ii. on names

“This is also toxic to your kind.”

Even when talking behind a door, their voice rings inside her head. She rubs her ears, feeling them numb from the strange no-sound.

“Well, it’s not for drinking, it’s for washing. It’s not even for washing ourselves, just dishes. But it’s the only thing that will rub that oil out according to this…”

Her voice lowers to a mutter as she taps her tablet. An article from a few decades before she was born on how to clean seagulls after an oil spill. She assumed the whole “calming the bird” part wasn’t necessary. She coughs, scratching her neck.

“So an angel, huh?”

“Yes.”

Slowly, she picks up her pillow and screams out her lungs into it, then takes a deep breath. It’s fine, it’s fine. Nothing to panic about, right? Unless this time it really is the end of the world. She shakes her head.

“N-nice. Good for you.”

She scratches her neck, awkwardly.

“Can you keep talking?” The voice emerges again.

“Huh?”

“Your world is too quiet.”

“Well, two contribute to a silence.”

When they talk again she could swear there’s embarassement somewhere in there.

“Talking is tiring. The laws of your world are tiring, and not efficient. But the silence is worse.”

She lets herself fall backwards until she’s lying on her bed.

“Alright. Uhm, my name is Luc. I’m-”

“Lucia.”

“What?”

“Your name is Lucia.”

“It’s… It’s a nickname, a short version of my name. It’s easier to pronounce. It’s… less serious?”

“You have two names.”

“More, depending on who you ask.” She muffles a laugh. “But hey, if you know it all already then there’s no point in me telling you.”

There’s a silence that lasts a few seconds.

“I’m sorry. Please, continue.”

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;]

(1/?)

(tag)

i. on fear

The rainbow coast, they call it, because of the way the neon light glows on the iridescent oily waters. Some optimistic souls do lounge on the sand on hotter days but everyone knows better than to dip a finger in the water. Nothing can survive there except bacteria and some very unappetizing fish that have to be thoroughly cleaned before consumption.

She once jumped in the water. Back when she was a kid. Thought the lights from the ships reflected in the water at nigt were stars and that the shimmering waters at night were a gate into space. She really wanted to reach the stars. And that had cost her several weeks at the hospital and, apparently, infertility. It didn’t bother much, so many people were unable to have children nowadays. Her mother had been one of them, and she had given birth to her anyway.

It wasn’t, therefore, an odd thing to find a mass of wings entangled in nets and seaweed washed in by the tide. Some poor animal (or animals, judging by the size) getting caught in debris and drowning. In the middle of the night she just spared a single glance and kept walking home, with her hands in her pockets.

It was when it writhed that she stopped and turned. She wasn’t fully heartless and there was no one around to help. Maybe this could be her good deed of the day. She stepped onto the sand and approached the thing. She pulled out her knife and started to cut the net but up close she noticed something among the feathers… hands. Black skin, long fingers. Three or… four?

She froze. It wasn’t the really the idea of half-drowned people that scared her but the possibility of stepping on another gang’s business or, worse, a mafia’s.

She didn’t have time to reconsider. Dozens of slits opened. On the wings, On the arms.

Dark and shimmering as the sea. With irises of molten gold.

They looked at her like they were going to pierce her head. She instinctively gripped the knife harder.

A voice… rang? Enveloped her? She heard it in her head but it also felt as if the whole city could hear it, like the toll of a bell. Yet she was sure it wasn’t normal sound and it certainly wasn’t carried by waves. She wasn’t even sure if she was hearing words of music.

“Be not afraid.”

Later she could have sworn there was a tinge of irony in it.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;]

The Golden Throne

The crystal lamps shine their light on the blood on her hands –her siblings’ blood- and gold speckles shine in it. It’s a play of the light, thinks the Hummingbird Princess, they bleed as red as me.

She had never wanted to play the Game. But everyone born in this family is sooner or later dragged into it. The game of politics and intrigue that ended with the corpses of the Swan Prince and the Crane Regent Princess at her feet.

First, her brother’s honeyed lies.

We can both join forces.

We can end our sister’s reign of terror.

The people are being asphyxiated under her heel.

I already have control of the army, you are the one more fit to be queen.

And she had believed him. Why wouldn’t she? When had her brother been anything other than kind to her? Protecting her from intrigues, being her crutch, the hand leading her through the tangled web of the Game, away from danger.

He had been the hardest to kill.

When her sister laid, silver eyes open wide, at the feet of her very own Golden Throne, her crown askew, a red stain spreading on the left of her chest, breaking the symmetry of her black and white robes.

The Swan Prince walked towards her. Words sharp as a champagne glass shard, but still as sweet.

Well look at this

Of course the Hummingbird Princess would kill the Regent.

The one who sympathizes with the revolutionaries.

Or the radicals. That sounds better.

Good thing I was there to stop her before her reign of terror started.

She might be naïve, but she is also skilled with the sword. He plummeted to the ground, white hair stained with blood. The feathers from his pauldrons scattered like a halo around him.

Her siblings look regal even in death. She looks at the crystal lamp over her head, wondering waiting for the world to stop spinning around her.  

Heavy metallic footsteps on the marble floors bring her back to reality. Her personal guard kneels before her, helmet under her arm. Her black cape dips in the prince’s blood, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“Your Grace.” She says, looking up, eye brimming with awe.

“Do not talk to me like that. We were never in formal terms.”

The Hummingbird Princess helps her back on her feet, yet her guard is still looking at her like it’s the first time she has seen the Sun.

“I’m sorry. But you will finally ascend to the Golden Throne, to your rightful place. The people will finally be free. My family will stop being hungry. We-“

The princess turns her back to her, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead.

“Ascending to the throne after murdering my own siblings? Do you really think anyone will accept this? They will be asking for my head at dawn.”

“But you are better than them! The gods chose you, you listen, you are kind and merciful, and-“

“And if I impose it on them I’m not better than my siblings.”

Her sword falls with a clink that echoes across the marble walls.

“My brother won in the end.”

A heavy silence falls upon them and the empty throne room. For what seems like an eternity the princess watches the shadows darken as the sun sets.  Her guard kneels and picks up her sword, offering her the handle. She takes it, distractedly, but the knight closes her hands tightly over hers.

“It was the traitor.” She says, a smile on her face.

“What?” The Hummingbird Princess tries to break free from her hold, but her knight was always stronger than her.

“The princess’ shadow. From a low upbringing.”

Then she walks towards the sword, which digs in her stomach. The princess screams, but she only grunts and keeps walking towards her, trying to reach her face with the hand that is not holding the sword.

“A radical, clearly. Poisoning the princess with lies.”

Her legs start shaking and the princess pulls out her sword and catches her guard in her arms before she hits the ground.

“She was planning to assassinate the royal family from the start. And she was stopped by the Hummingbird Princess. Sounds good, doesn’t it?” She coughs up blood. “The princess who shows enough strength, even while grieving, to avenge her family.”

She looks up at her princess.

“Almost like a fairytale.”

The princess just looks back at her in shock.

“No… Why did you have to- No! You can’t leave me now!”

She starts shaking, but her knight just smiles at her and uses the little strength she has left to reach out and caress her cheek.

“You know, the only thing I will regret is never seeing you walk up those steps and sit in the Golden Throne.

The Hummingbird Princess stands, lifting the guard in her arms, straining under the weight of her armor and the blood-soaked cape. Leaning, she places a soft kiss on her lips and hears her sigh.

“If I walk up those steps, it should be with you.”

She turns and starts climbing the steps to the throne. She circles her sister’s body. She sits on the Golden throne, cold and uncomfortable, not like she had anticipated. Her guard, her friend, her lover lies in her arms, curled up. Her dark hair falls over her eyes and she is smiling, that sweet smile of hers.

When did her knight stop breathing? When did her heart stop?

The Hummingbird Princess rests her head on the back of the throne and looks at the empty and cold throne room.

And she waits for the dawn.

There is a country to rule. And many questions to answer.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts ;u;]