scrubjayspeaks

Eeeyyy! 688 words of fic just on my work breaks. I am filled with the profound sense of wellbeing that comes from a writer actually managing to write. Witness!

Because she does not dream, she knows nothing of the others. They wake in the night, in each other's arms, with the bile in their mouths tasting like nothing so much as seawater. They would tell themselves it is a recurring dream, a nightmare, were it not for the way Quynh's madness changes depth and flavor decade by decade. Her madness ages like wine, the only part of her that ever will. They dream her in fragments, in moments, a timelapse, a flipbook so slow the waking mind can barely perceive it.

In other news, I tried to view the Neowise comet last night. Since I have to be up so early for work, I knew I didn't want to stay up until the sun had fully set. Sunset takes forever around here in the summer. Instead, I went to bed a little earlier than usual so I could get a couple hours of sleep, got up to look at the comet, and then went back to bed.

Or in any case, that was the plan. Didn't manage to spot the comet after staggering out of bed half-dead. ABSOLUTELY did not get back to sleep. Like. Ever. Well, I guess I must have slept at some point for me to experience the profoundly weird dreams I had, but still. It wasn't what I would call consistent or restful.

I'm going to try again. Just...probably not tonight.