A Pristine Disappointment

Her “beauty[…] was the radiance of an opium-dream[…] Yet her features were not of that regular mould which we have been falsely taught to worship in the classical labors of the heathen.” ~ Edgar Allan Poe

Dear Master,

Although starting a letter with a quotation is unorthodox, I feel the words of your idol best describe the home I’ve secured for us. The house itself is a pristine disappointment. However, the lack of corruption mutilating our new walls will mean nothing after you glance upon the mad angel who lurks next door. I’ve included a sketch.

Your eternal servant,
Igor

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the wee notes…
– A house behind twisted trees (see below) made me think of my beloved Poe, and of his love for the gnarled and uncanny. I went digging for a piece out of Odessa Begay’s Edgar Allan Poe coloring book, which I colored in a rather imaginative way *cough*.
– Linked to Friday Fictioneers. Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, to join the fun. Then follow this LINK, to read what others have dragged from behind the fence.
– Linked to Prompt Nights ~ Fly (0ver) Friday.

inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s “Ligeia”
colored to mad life by moi

photo by J Hardy Carroll

Self Bloomed Rainbows

This holiday season, I am hosting flesh and bones bursting with unwanted guests. Mistress Nausea brought Sir Hurl. They arrived almost two weeks ago, accompanied by Lady Fever—an insufferable harlot who refuses to take three steps without her good-for-nothing boy toys, Dizziness and Fatigue.

And I can’t even think of throwing them out, since they are best friends with Mr. Pill, and he is the only one keeping Lord Crohn’s from puncturing my pipes and letting all sorts of crap leak who knows where. I haven’t been able to pretend that the undesirable horde is not constantly around. But most days, sipping tea and nibbling on pomegranate seeds dulls the effects of their visit a considerable bit.

When their presence gets so loud that it threatens to crack my skull, I sip on words and tell myself stories to quiet them out. Some days (nights?), I share the stories with you. And you add your bits to my bits… Our united bits say, “We aren’t alone in this. We are awesomely strong. And goodness, we are so freaking modest! In fact, our modesty can only be surpassed by our extreme hotness.”

So, there you have it, my Wicked Luvs: when my bones and gut hurt so much that I must squint to see my screen properly, I write things that make me grin. And I turn to friends who morph said grins into laughter. Then I wait for magic to happen… in the company of self bloomed rainbows.

“Bloom a Rainbow”

If winter blues
ever fray my edges,
I shall bloom
a rainbow…
and fill my-Self
with spring.
self-bloomed-rainbows