The dress came alive when worn.
”It’s a scan.”
”But of what?”
Her mirror now showed someone else.
Reblogging, here; go check out the rest of BnV!
A match that burns.
Time that does not stop.
Pockets of charred air
leave footprints on the floor,
sooty and timeless,
like that of you and I.
A. R. Frederiksen is a recurring guest blogger here at BnV, and her own writing blog can be found here, where she dabbles in flashfiction/poetry.
This post is partly, if not entirely, inspired by my roommate. She got me thinking, you see, during one of our bullshit trade-offs. You know, those trade-offs between friends that have nothing left of interest to talk about after years of breathing the same stale air and then have to kill that stale air with enough hot air that the staleness is pushed to the floor, subjugated by physics?
Anyway, this particular time, my roomie provided me with an image that I needed to get down on paper and share with others – now.
Without further ado, I present to you……….
…..… the Tug-o-war between Missus Writer and Sire Brain!
Mode 1 – Missus Writer vs. Sire Brain
MS: “Sooo… anything good happening over there? Hm? Hmhmhmhm?”
Mode 2 – “Sire Brain vs. Missus Writer”
SB: “Hey! You! Heeeeeyyee…. balabalabalabala—”
They say that miscommunication is part and parcel in a relationship, which leads me to believe that I’m in a relationship with my own brain. If I dare peek at it, it cowers in a corner, and if I leave it alone to fend for itself, it springs on me when I least expect it. Or, god forbid, when I have no time for it. Now, this doesn’t just happen with writing, I know. This is just how a brain works, I suppose, with a lot of things.
But, but, but, but— when my brain decides to spring on me with a plot twist that demands I change the last fifty chapters of my novel…. or when it decides to shut the door on me and my deadline… weeeellll……..
My brain never stops working with words and stories.
Rather, it alternates between modes of working with words and stories.
I do wonder how this will look on a brain scan…
I’d ask Sire Brain, but that might undermine my argument, so let’s leave it at that, shall we?
A wilted flower makes most noise.
Iron bends; she flamed the fire.
“Bibliophile’s Achilles heel: books about books!”
“Gone for months; now back again?”