Samsara

I'm sorry but I called in sick to work today to take a mental health day and I'm out at Spot Coffee writing all morning and I just had to share this snippet from GHOST CITY because I'm so effin' pleased with it. :D


Kiddo looks away first, steps to the very edge of the roof to look down at the ghosts. Her nearness to the edge makes Noah palpably nervous. He wants to reach to pull her back, but Kiddo is fearless, just as sure footed at the edge of the roof as in the middle of a barren field. He doesn’t want to insult her by insinuating her balance is anything less than remarkable.

But despite what he thinks, Kiddo doesn’t have much of a concept of pride, even when it comes to her physical prowess. She’s stood on many edges in her lifetime, looked out over the clear dark of the night, or the water, or the sky, and no one has ever touched her arm to draw her back to safety. If Noah had done that, as he wanted to, just then, Kiddo wouldn’t have been insulted. She might have been startled that someone would make such a communicative gesture—“I don’t want you to fall and die”—especially Noah. But she wouldn't have been insulted.

Instead, Kiddo stands on the edge of the roof, alone, and Noah does nothing, fearful that pulling her back would only push her farther away.



:D

As usual, Artemis wakes with a start, calling out to her late twin brother whose name she no longer remembers. He died a long time ago, in her arms, when the world came to an end. She doesn’t remember how either event happened—if she ever even knew to begin with.

Cool morning light is leaking through the cracks in the shelter wall; rays of white gold lance the shadows that lay about the cavernous room, catching the dust motes that spin lazily as they dance to the nearest surface. Artemis is propped up in her cot on adrenaline and confusion, chest heaving with each greedy breath. The nightmare has already begun to fade, and as the images and themes slip from her memory her back stiffens. She supports herself with her arms, hands braced against the cot, swallowing as she glances around the shelter and remembers that she is alone. Strange how it never feels that way when she first wakes.

The sluggish signal from the ancient motion detector finally reaches its destination and the remaining fluorescent blubs flicker to life, humming and pulsing as the irregular current from the solar generator bridges the gaps between fuses and conductors. It’s a pale, sickly light that fills the room, banishing the shadows as it bounces off the white linoleum and painted concrete walls. The cots that line the wall like broad, cloth bookshelves sag from the weight of the dead, bodies that were long gone by the time Artemis discovered this sanctuary. Their stains remain, no matter how hard she scrubs, and though there is nothing in the air she still catches faint whiffs of the corpses now and then.

The shelter had failed them, once, long ago. Or perhaps its occupants had failed each other; Artemis will never know. She does not even know why the shelters were built, or what they were supposed to protect people from. This is her third shelter in as many years. She wants to keep moving, but the journey is hard, and the winters are harder.

And she does not exactly know where her destination is.

:D Excited!!!!