“High Pitched”

For their part, nearly all found Emily hard not to like. “I am the queen of your lies, crafting each one with affection.”

Shane had a hard time plotting against this idealized version, but that did not mean she would not do it with every fiber that remained of her being. Among the double’s many virtues glared one great imperfection, though even it could not mar her increasing beauty. “I bled so you could be in control, so you could hide in the pages of books like you never could in Eliot’s arms. I know that it makes me happy to spend part of this night with them and that I would not be averse to others. I don’t know where her deft at adventure will next take us.”

If she knew worry, she had forgiven and forgotten instantly. “I’m the fruition of what Girl put into you. You’ve long shut off to the severity of living and forget that I know you better than you do.”

To her, it is simply what everyone must do, because it is what she does. Emily and I exchange looks and say nothing, since I don’t have to use much imagination to see a witch. “Peter, with his stupid leather jacket, was your only partner“, she motioned to the sky around them. The important thing to note here is that we only entered this mall because Emily had a Victoria’s Secret bill in need of paying and this happened to be the closest mall to us when she realized it.

If told that she was the assistant principal of a Montessori School or the middle manager of a Born Again Christian greeting card company, I would have had no trouble believing it. But even before she finished saying it, her mind took events to their logical conclusion, this grave. It didn’t seem a crucial distinction to make.

We arrive in a vast clearing in the trees, acres across.

Her infirmities crawled over to her, shattering her wrist and cracking her skull. They speak the language of music and college, a tongue I appreciate hearing but in which I never expect fluency. Ella is unconventionally attractive, particularly fully dressed, which is not at all intended as a backhanded compliment. Though I do not anticipate being kissed and would be vexed if anyone took the liberty, it pushes me to mingle and share where I would otherwise turn turtle and hide in my shell.

What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!

It would do me little good to worship her from afar, though I would be far from the first person. She would have screamed from the pain but she could not longer breathe, her throat ripped open. It is getting late and I know I ought to be on my way home, but cannot bring myself to commit, to willing transition into tomorrow’s workday. We are not, however, prepared to be there too early to encounter half of our list.

She motioned to the sky around them.

The way she wore her purple sundress, the way is held to curves it could only imply she possessed, nudged his endocrine system into frenzy of generation.

Tristan Lindsey¹

1. The preceding prose was helpfully provided by a spammer who ripped random sentences from xenex.org (which may have in turn pulled the content from elsewhere, I have no idea), and neglected to provide any advertising to accompany. Kudos. ↩