You would like the weather here today. Our sky is luminous with white sunlight. Not a single breeze troubles the air. I wish I could run away to drink tea in an old stone teahouse at the roots of moors, and while rain misted the windows I would dream up stories about the mysterious-eyed gentleman sitting at a table nearby, never mind his smile as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking and I'm half right. And when the morning showers have shivered away, I would trudge up into the wind, open my heart to the wind, and breathe for real. There would be ghosts of prickles in the sunshine, inexplicable sea salt fragrancing the air. The mysterious-eyed gentleman would be walking slow through rock shadow and suddenly disappear.

And I would linger too long in the high lands, until my hair was thick with wind and even my heart had gone lavishly, lovingly cold. Cold like faery borders. Cold like the moon. I'd have to go back down in darkness, careful on the old dirt road. Not tempted by bells singing at the edges. Not looking for mysterious eyes and a dangerous smile. I'd come almost regretful at last into lamplight, while at my back the night breathed longingly and the moon blinked. And before me -

Before me, an autumn sky, sparrow-sped, calmly blue, polite.


  1. ...ghosts of prickles in the sunshine... your writing makes me swoon and catch my breath at the same time <3

  2. What a moody shot and great writing.