Consummated high. I take what others abjure. Garish in my sex.
About the Creator
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More stories from Nathalie Feehan and writers in Poets and other communities.
Lines in the Sky
“It’s never too late to turn back.” Isn’t that what they say? In my deep sleep I was dreaming that I was in my childhood home. As in all my dreams it was but it wasn’t. There was a balcony on the top floor and the neighbours’ houses were too close, looming over my head with wide, dark window panes that let in just enough light to make you wonder if there was someone watching from behind the tinted glass. I held a crumpled shirt up to my chest to cover myself as I stepped outside and looked down over the white steel railing. An old boyfriend of mine (Steven?) was there calling up to me, coaxing me out for an evening rendezvous in the warm summer air. His slender build and almond shaped eyes were friendly and inviting. He had on one of his classic brightly coloured and bold patterned shirts, a stark contrast to his always tatty pants and shoes. He was beside his bike - reliable but rust-covered. I felt exposed peeking my head out over the railing, back bare to the waning heat. The delight of his presence and the surprise of his beckoning was overwhelming and exciting.
By Nathalie Feehan4 years ago in Wander
Swan
“During the Metal Age, humans took photographs of everything beautiful, which was everything, yet machines did not even wear shoes. The Fauxna thought of a better way. They colored all of the light rose, for a corrupted source cannot be verified.” - Origin Parable, 011
By Nicky Frankly3 days ago in Fiction
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