Sara

The #ghost ghostwriter has been dead these several years. In life, he wrote extensively for others, neglecting his own #writing material.

Death has silenced him—though none recalled his voice. His writing suffers still, since holding a quill requires being something slightly more material.

#vss365

"We haven't gone out in months. You never kiss me—you barely touch me. And we don't talk like we used to. It's like you don't see me anymore."
He orders a whiskey neat, wipes away a tear. Can't believe it's been a year.
"You know I hate whiskey," her #ghost says, drifting out of the bar. #vss365

"Since my first raid, I've got this feeling." He taps his knuckles on his chest; the knock echoes. "Hear that?"
I send him to cardio, his chart marked urgent, but I know what the surgeons will find. Nothing.
Vanishing heart syndrome. The curse of politics, the plague of a world in #pain. #vss365

The blessed fly straight to heaven, the wicked to hell. The rest end up in the in-between for a while. Not quite good, not quite bad. Lost, in need of direction.
I bundle the little #soul up warm for the journey back to the dark world, kiss its cheek for luck. "Take two. Don't mess it up." #vss365

"I lost my #Shadow! Have you seen it?"
He never looks properly. Usually, the dark thing is tangled in his dirty clothes or shoved under the bed, crumpled with candy wrappers and dusty Legos.
But today, I cannot find his Shadow anywhere. He's grown, I realize, and soon the boy will follow. #vss365

They're awake.
She's heard the legend. Every 13 years, they choose a girl to lead their undead army and live forever. But she never truly believed until—
She enters the woods, drawn by the #thrum. They alight on her body, an emerald cape, an onyx crown. The cicada queen rules the summer. #vss365

Primroses, pale and dirt-streaked as her pinched face. Her lower lip #quivers. "Buy a flower, sir?"
Few can resist her tears, but they #obsfuscate her true aim. As a gentleman hands her a penny, her fae partner steals gold from his pockets. Fairies and flower girls become lords and ladies. #vss365

On the #cusp of dawn, she climbs down from the sky and returns home to scrub the clay from her skin. Above, her work #wanes gibbous. She never gets it exactly right, but every month, she tries again. Sleeping children need a light in the darkness, a satellite to pull the tides of dreams. #vss365

Ice storm #legos #janeausten

"I thought you drowned."
I flash my shining scales. "Mermaids can't drown."
But he stays on the sand, skeptical. "You said you loved me. Was that also a #ruse?"
I open my arms, beckon him to the sea. "Of course not."
Drowning is like falling in love, and he only struggles a little. #vss365

Once the family is asleep, we drift down from the attic. There's a brief scuffle over who gets the baby, but I win rock paper scissors and #slip into the crib, into the new skin and throw the soul out. They can have the house. It's our turn to use these bodies. I've always wanted to travel. #vss365

She boils sugar and water, one ear on the weather radio's constant patter. Another storm warning. This wet August will be the death of her. All she can do is #drizzle cooled syrup on her scars, mending what the rain melted, and buy a better umbrella. Like summer, she's too sweet to last. #vss365

At sunset, we head to the pool and drift in chlorine dream, #unmoored from time, groggy from too much sun and stolen beer.
Next week, we'll travel to new lives on separate planets. College. Internships. Jobs.
Our last summer ever. We don't say goodbye until it's too late, until it's gone. #vss365

"H-hap b-birthday to- to you. Ha-" I sing, voice hoarse. Cake sticks in my throat; my rotten teeth ache with every buttercream bite.
But Mom insisted I come. "You're only ten once."
She didn't know the birthday girl could #bend time like a spoon. Ten forever, Mom gone, and I'm still singing. #vss365

Five inches, then ten, then twenty, the forecast says. We eye the #looming clouds and pray: Please, no more snow.
The first days were bliss — no school! no work! — but now, on Snow Day 50, supplies are low. We tire of the cold, of darkness, of lives iced over, waiting for the spring thaw. #vss365

We're not anti-tech, we're anti-theft. If the future of “innovation” depends on stealing creators’ work without asking or paying, that’s not progress - it's stealing, and we shouldn’t accept it. #StealingIsntInnovation www.stealingisntinnovation.com/

Blame the wind. In our search for spring, a stormy squall turned us upside down. We #veered off course, south instead of north, and landed on an ice floe. Too tired to fly, we learned to swim and slide, raise our chicks among the glacial pebbles, and enjoy our seafood dinners, black-tie. #vss365

A #murmur on the wind; she tosses aside the carrion. The bees had returned! Soon, there would be spring honey. She follows the buzzing. So many bees, they shake the ground; trees fall. The woods vanish, revealing rows of shining teeth, whirring, killing. No more bees. Spring but no honey. #vss365

Wear sunscreen. Also a hat, long sleeves, pants and gloves, no matter the weather. Sleep cocooned, slathered in unctions and serums, wrapped in linen. Never leave the house.
Others pass her window, #dappled with freckles, wrinkled by life. Her skin shines cold as a diamond, untouched, alone. #vss365

Put a pan on high heat, add butter, garlic. Season your meat on both sides with salt and pepper.
"Achoo!"
Add your meat to the pan and hold it down so it doesn't escape. You want a good #sear.
"No! Help!"
Wear headphones until you get used to the screaming. Serve rare with fondant potatoes. #vss365

The bleeding heart was presented on a clean plate with a sprig of green garnish. Fork & knife held aloft, she contemplated how to tackle the dish. She thought back to the young man who offered it to her, all #heartfelt words & delicious earnestness. She savored a bite of pericardium &smiled. #vss365

It's called sapiosexual
but what’s a brain
without a heart
and what’s a heart
without a brain
just aspects of attraction
then there’s that whole other
indescribable tapestry thing
luminescent prism-bending light
in magnetic souls
the most #heartfelt
features of desire
are mysteries

#vss365

She's flattered when the first bouquet arrives. Pink roses. A secret admirer? A spray of lilies, a wreath of mums, an armful of gladiolus follows. The foyer looks like a florist's showroom as she reads the cards. Our #heartfelt condolences. Sorry for your loss.
"Who died?"
No one hears her. #vss365

An orthodontist’s dream. Teeth pointing north, south, east and west. He orders full headgear. Every night, she cranks the #wonky rows straighter with a tiny key. Her jaw throbs. But pain is worth it when the braces come off.
“Smile,” he says.
Her newly straightened fangs pierce his neck. #vss365

Runt. Squirt. The smallest in the litter.
Until he hits puberty. Overnight, Jack shoots up from 4'11 to 40 feet. He must #stoop to sneak out of his bedroom window and run away to the beanstalk.
"I don't want to hurt you, not like those before," he begs the giant. "I want to come home." #vss365

Her phone is easy to give up. But she misses fast food. No #slapdash unhealthy meals since her dad had the #kooky idea to live like a pioneer.
"Takeout? Take out that axe and chop the head off that old bird."
The blade hovers. She can't do it, not even for KFC. Beans and rice again. #vss365

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It was no wonder she was
a most kooky child you could meet.
Her father lived in his head,
while her delightful mother
was wild from her head to her feet.

She was off on adventures
from the day she was born,
way up to space,
or carried away by the wind of a storm.
#vss365 #kooky

An #unmissable act, the ads proclaim. And he's never missed the target. Except once.
He runs away from the circus, but the clowns haunt his dreams. Spooking him right before he lets the axe fly.
His brother, pale with death. The apple, still rosy, rolls into his blood. The clowns laugh. #vss365