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Shall I tell you stories of other stars: stars that you love, that deserve your love. Stars that do not disappoint, and disgust, and disgrace your love. Oh, I have hope they exist for your sake!

created by Infinite Burn

(fiction) by Evil Catullus (1.8 hr) (print)   ?   (I like it!) 10 C!s Mon Nov 05 2001 at 8:21:41

She was barefoot in the garden as the moonlight caught the hem of her dress. Her hair, almost silver, was pulled up into a knot high on her head leaving a neck as graceful as a swan's vulnerable to the night air and the west wind. She was barefoot, but wore a gown that shimmered as silver-white as her hair. He approached her from the west with the wind and his scent was carried with the autumn leaves. He moved soundlessly except for the faint jingle of silver-white necklaces, tokens from old lovers. She did not acknowledge his approach with anything other than a sigh. Her back was turned to him and the west wind.

His cloak was yellow and tattered and patched many times over. His hands were brown and smooth and his teeth were very white. He smiled widely in the moonlight and black tendrils of his hair blew out towards her, as if in greeting. Had her back not been turned to him, she would have gazed upon his smile and once more been dazzled and heart-broken. She was prepared and did not turn to look, she only said, "you are leaving," it was not an accusation.

His smile faltered, but only for a moment. They always knew the Traveler left them alone; but there always had been much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Never before had there been one who did not beg, who did not ask in vain for him to stay. Smiling wider, he stared down at his brown, smooth hands and said, "I am leaving."

At this, she nodded, and silver-white hair and silver-white gown shimmered faintly in the moonlight. She closed her eyes and bowed her head, as if in benediction. There was silence except for the faint jingle of necklaces and the sound of the west wind entangling black hair with silver-white.

At last the Traveler broke the silence, awkwardly, as if he were unaccustomed to speaking, "Since you have not begged me to stay or wept, I shall grant you a boon". He was surprised at how tender his voice became. Then, quickly, "but do not ask me to stay. I may return some day, but I will not stay."

She smiled a strange, secretive smile but did not turn to look at him. Her voice sounded as if it came from very far and she spoke slowly, "I ask that you never again return this place, never again seek me out."

His smile fell, and he wrinkled his smooth, brown brow. He stared for a moment at the implacable back of the one who would not beg and felt a sudden loss. He turned on his heel and walked away, thinking of moonlight and her stories, knowing that he would be, at last, forgotten.


printable version
chaos

Every time I see a dead fish that isn't, I think of you. Happiness keeps washing over me like a wave. What do I do with it all? Due to the Incompetence of our novice author, our heroine cahla, finds herself in the wilds of Djibouti; There is no denouement in sight, but the moonlight is pretty. People wouldn't fall in love so often if it were more clearly marked Even things as amazing as stars burn out
It's not the words you write, it's the story you tell The glass is neither half-full nor half-empty. It's a fruit bat! This is the concept you will use to make yourself invisible The Boy with Sad Eyes
Gay subcultures in eighteenth century Europe I look better when I am wet Here are some true pieces for you, anonymous, handsome. She is the queen of accidental magic. Her used kleenexes, taken by the wind, become soulful ghosts.
Do not fall in love with Laura and do not let Laura fall in love with you I have more stories about trains for you In the dead silence of a night in New York Why oh why did the black crayon always die first?
Do not be surprised, I have always been your canvas, Argenis. We are all we have Look, the stars are falling down He touched her once and she turned into a golden creature. He never touched her again.
Secretly, as certain dark things are loved wailing and gnashing of teeth Boon Huddled around the story as if it were a fire
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