It feels as though we’re going in slow motion. I think we’ll never get away. But eventually the Ferris wheel is far enough away that it could be a moving constellation.
Lauren DeStefanoTags: poetic-fiction
There’s this anomaly that happens sometimes with twins. It occurs in the womb when the fetuses are growing too closely to each other. The stronger twin develops normally, while the weaker twin crumples and is encased by the body of the stronger twin, where it becomes a parasite. The result is a single child, plagued by a twin-shaped fossil inside. Like a tumor.
In death Rose became Linden’s parasitic twin. They were two separate organisms once, growing steadily beside each other. Two pulses. Two brains. But she has crumpled and died, and still he carries her inside himself. She goes where he goes, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, a shadow behind his ribs.
Tags: dark poetic-fiction
I watch the ashes swim around like dandelion puffs, making swirls where bodies and walls once stood.
Lauren DeStefanoTags: dark poetic-fiction
A feeling can't kill you.
Lauren DeStefanoWe figure out what death means when we’re born, practically, and we live our whole lives in some kind of weird denial about it.
Lauren DeStefanoShe was supposed to build sand castles on the beach and put her toes in the ocean,” Madame says.
Lauren DeStefanoTags: poetic-fiction
The months fall to shards at my feet.
Lauren DeStefanoTags: poetic-fiction
I see an ocean that’s spilled out of a wineglass, its body clear and sparkling and folding over itself. I see a ribbon of sand.
Lauren DeStefanoTags: poetic-fiction ocean
When I call his name, it’s a sound almost entirely out of my control. It soars over the crowd and hits him. Even from where I’m standing, I can tell that he recognized my voice. Hastily he unwinds himself from the girl, stands to attention like an animal sensing danger. And I try to call him again, but that word, that name, was all I had the energy for. I barely have the strength left to stand.
I wait helplessly for him to find the sound, and when he does, when his heterochromatic eyes meet mine, my mouth forms the word again, but just barely. The girl at his side disappears. The crowd blurs into senseless shapes and colors. I can’t feel my heart or my body or the heat of the flames.
I can only see his face—his bewildered, beautifully familiar face.
Tags: poetic-fiction reunion
It’s a world worth fighting for. Set fire to the broken pieces; start anew.
Lauren DeStefanoTags: life inspiration hope poetic-fiction
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