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SmudgeMy sister's party is today. It is a day I drifted through, a dull buzz of excitement mixed with the wish that the cake and the bright presents bursting with pale tissue and glinting bows are for me.
The living room is a wide space; the carpet is marked only by the shuffle of feet and the loud grooming of the vacuum cleaner. There is not a single plaything or dish lying around. The room is too big without its clutter, too sterile. I am afraid to touch anything.
Mum often has these fits of cleanliness, especially when there is an event of significance, like a guest coming over or our family going on a trip around the world. The kitchen is still fighting back the onslaught of abandoned dishes; a fork used for mixing, an empty red plastic bowl, an animal cup full of milk to stave off the overwhelming sweetness of the left over icing. Whenever something is left out, mum sweeps through the kitchen and the counter is clear and shining once again.
Everything is set up. Balloons congregate in t
Dark Dawning 14After a few more days of observation, Tanya noticed a certain restlessness in her Vulcan patient. Odd times when he was not in his room, he wandered from place to place with no purpose in particular, often times giving off a feeling of irritation. Thinking about this, Tanya was certain the reason for this was simply because Suron was bored. He had said it himself on one occasion; he felt as if he were 'wandering without direction' and that he no longer knew what his purpose was in life. It must have been quite a rapid change to go from being the science officer in a starship to a patient in a quiet mental institution.
Then Tanya realized a solution, the first step to helping her patient heal from his mental traumas. It was so simple, and yet she'd never thought of it until now. All she had to do was to give Suron something to do. An 'assignment', of sorts, to keep his mind busy. That, at least, would help temporarily.
So that morning, Tanya knocked on the door to Suron's room, her arms
The MurderThe Murder
I was one day
Walking my way
When a Murder flew over my head.
They flew so low
That it startled me so
But I did look and smile with delight.
For it seemed to me
A nice thing to see
Though darkness it may imply,
As no one has seen
Where the crows have been
Or what memories they carry along.
Yet I did smile that day,
Walking my way,
'Cause something struck me true.
No one does know
The grace of a crow
As they glide on the blackest of wings.
I saw later they go
The murder of crows
And I did stare in awe.
My senses concurred
That this sharp-eyed black bird
Is a mystery to behold.
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