~u-r-not-your-khakis
a rather lazy artist
bent
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The OneiroiIt’s 6:44 a.m. and you wake up feeling like a thousand volts have been jolted through your body, flooding your nervous system with epinephrine. Anti-freeze bubbles out of the veins in the back of your neck and middle of your abdomen. It spreads to your arms and fingertips, tingling and electric, and settles in your lower back. You realize you’re clutching the collar of your shirt in a white-knuckled grip. It feels like your lungs are trying to fight their way out from beneath your ribs and you swear you can feel your heart beating in your toes and can hear the blood roaring through your veins. You focus on remembering hoThe Oneiroi
by ~u-r-not-your-khakis
JackJack’s eyelids closed, one, two, in a staggered blink, and opened, one lid drooping just a little. He tried to fully open the half-closed lid, his central processing unit sending futile messages through old, rusted wires. Letters in green print flitted before his sight. [Error: Left lid not responding. Unable to verify damage] The lid collapsed and Jack stared at his permanently winking reflection in the mirror. The lid fluttered like a captured butterfly, but refused to open. His left arm seized in a series of convulsions that sent twitches through the fingers of his left hand.Jack
“Jack!” Melanie’s voice called
by ~u-r-not-your-khakis
Cinderella RetoldI used to know her mother. She was the fairest woman I had ever seen in all my years. That is to say, she was the fairest woman I’d ever seen until she had her daughter. But she grew ill after the birth of Celia and she never got any better. Only worse. And Celia was so little. A bright little thing with eyes and hair like her mother’s and a dimple in her smile like her father’s.Cinderella Retold
“Will you do something for me, Cilian?” her mother asked.
“Anything for you,” I said.
“Please,” she asked me. “Please make me better. Take away this sickness. My husband is not a kind man. H
by ~u-r-not-your-khakis
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