We Love You, Bunny

Violence isn’t the only means of Transformation, Aerius. There are other Ways Back. A book is an Ax too. ‘For the frozen Sea within us.’ ‘The Pen is mightier than the Sword,’ and so on.” And in my Mindscape, I saw my Book. Now in Mother’s Hands. How she’d hugged it so close to her Body even after she’d called it Nothing, a Fiction. “My Book a Way Back,” I whispered. “All by itself?” My Voice echoed in the Forest, small and alone. Allan looked down at me, suddenly quite enchanted. “All by itself," he repeated softly. “They are one of the oldest forms of Transformative Magic. They have the Power to change Everything. Hearts. Bodies. Minds. Souls. Whole fucking Worlds. People burn them for a Reason, you know.

There will always be Risks, and yes, even great Dangers, Aerius. This is Art School, after all.

do not know what of me is mine anymore,” I said. “I don’t know where I am going anymore. I don’t even know what I am.” More Tears fell

The moon was being a bitch, Bunny.

Hi, Bunny. It’s been a little while, hasn’t it? We missed you, we really did. So much. And look at you now, wow. All gothed out again. Back to wearing your scary-bleak clothes and your dark hair still hanging in front of your eye, how funny.

Where would the pastries even go on her slender body, I wondered. I watched her eat, thinking, Don’t want, don’t want. Knowing exactly, exactly where they would go on my own body.

Her pedigree was Yale or Princeton probably. One of Warren’s more boring Ivy sisters. I could see the gargoyled library in which she’d likely whiled away her days

That's all poets want. To fuck with you immediately and irreversibly. Forget plot. No journey or catharsis through narrative, no, no. They go right for the jugular with their word art and leave you bleeding.

Love makes Fools of us all. Including the Muses. Including even the Gods.

She’d given me her heart, I’d seen her at her most vulnerable, seen her vomit grief and rage about her oven story being destroyed by Allan. And she resented me a little for all that. Definitely. You’re here, she’d say, and that was all she’d say. Letting go of her pearls to stroke my face, but never ever letting go of the razor. She would not say Thank god you came. Thank you for braving the scary dark. She would not even say come in. She would never ever say I love you. Instead she would stroke my face so sadly, so tenderly, right there in the doorway like she fucking hated me.

I felt my Heart jump. “I am,” I said softly. “From some other World.” And I longed to tell him Everything then, Reader. About the Flashes. The Lost Place. “Tell me,” Jonah whispered, as if he'd heard my Thoughts. He kissed me softly, as if to give me Courage. “I don't have the Language,” I breathed, shaking my Head. “But it's beautiful,” I said, looking at only him. “And you're taking me back there.” And he smiled and kissed me again.

Happy," I whispered, looking into the blue. " So happy, I'm sad again." "Sappy," he whispered back, nodding as if he knew. "Joy tears.