Skip to main content

At night

I came on with the thought to write for the sheer hope that Nathan might read it-- if I had known he had already checked my weblog I would have been writing on it in the lab just to be able to tell him my thoughts.

Nathan... I miss you, too. I almost forgot tonight was abnormal but as soon as I came in Henry was acting really odd, the same disturbed way he acted when I came home from Bethyl every afternoon. Then I remembered you weren't here. I don't think I ever said the Bronte books were written by the same person. Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights are in two very different styles, and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is different from either of them. After I finish this book, however, I intend to go into a deep study of all their lives; if I start researching them now, something will probably spoil the ending of this book for me, and I don't want that to happen.

Darkthorns, I don't know if The Tenant of Wildfell Hall will be to your taste, but since you liked those other two you mentioned, you will probably at least be able to get through this one. It starts out slow... much slower than the others, but for me it picked up in momentum so much it's hard for me to do anything but read it. Thank you for your reply. I had no idea anyone had found my weblog. Now that I'm on Blogspot I feel that my weblog is in the middle of a desolate wasteland. I got much more traffic with Livejournal.

Popular posts from this blog

Where does it lie

I look out onto the yellow and brown vegetation beneath my window, at the castle-like buildings far away and wonder where do I lie in all of this? There was a time when I was unfettered. This was a time before I entered the working world, before I was independent. My heart was free as a bird when I was in college. I did not know what happiness I experienced in my creativity because I had never known different. In other aspects of my life I knew pain but my stories, sprung up lately from a gothic mist into an immersing Pre-Raphaelite painting, were a richness and the most beautiful thing I had ever known. That the most beautiful thing I knew to exist happened inside of me made me very happy, even though I didn't know it. Now I know the sun is setting, even though I can't see it, because the bank of brown, twisted trees and shrubs is lit gold, like a reflection from a golden chalice. Slowly, slowly it will fade until everything is a homogenous, uncertain gray. This is the nightma...

Cassandra stood poised at her vanity mirror. Her long hair, which spilled past her waist, was twisted in one hand, and in the other was a pair of jeweled scissors.

As she lifted the scissors to cut, a larger hand wrapped around hers. Cassandra withdrew with a cry. "Kell! I didn't see you come in." He took the scissors away. "I take it you got the job." "I did," she said crisply. "Return my scissors to me." "Not if you intend to cut off your hair. What do you mean by this nonsense?" "I can't have long hair in the laboratory. It might catch fire or something." "Look there." He guided her to the window. Below them lay the scattered remains of a centuries-old city park. The benches were near invisible due to growth, while the pond had extended far beyond its original boundaries. Ducks floated serenely on its surface. "We played as children. Do you remember how you prized your hair?" Cassandra laughed a little drily. "Of course. I insisted all my powers as princess lay in my hair. I was haughty. unworthy of the friendship of you and your sister." ...

Snow White and the Prince

I dreamed in darkness, cold and alone. Phantasms shifted around me, frightening me, but I was powerless to escape them or even move, as I was sealed in a casket. I thought of the Queen, my Stepmother, and tears dripped from my eyes as I considered the quasi-poignant moments we had once shared, when we might have been considered to be close, when the Queen had nearly been a mother to me, and the face of love had shone radiantly upon me, before eclipsed again by the storms of Venus. I thought of the huntsman, stung to consider that my only friend had been poised to betray me, to kill me, and again in my mind I felt the horror of his shadow, of waiting while he came behind me, knowing there was no escape for me from a death he would inflict. My heart lifted as images of the Prince entered my mind, his grace atop a white-maned horse, always out of my reach, just beyond the words I longed to speak. If only there had been more time for us to fall in love. He might have saved me from those...