some fiction for your lovely christmas eve

Tuesday, December 24, 2013


Maybe there are no mistakes, only books to be written.

It’s a comforting thought as she steps gingerly onto the ice of the river. Her breath comes out in hot puffs around her and she imagines how she would look from above, a tiny girl on a huge, half frozen river. She wonders if she put her ear to the ice, if she could hear the rush of the river under it.

She lies down, thinking back to something her mom told her about weight distribution on ice. And she looks at the sky, that black hole. Her breath continues to puff out above her. This will be my most beautiful mistake, she thinks, but then she rolls over, pushes herself off the ice, and steps back onto solid ground.



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I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday. A set of abstract tree scapes (like the one above) went up on Common Rituals today, if you want to see more. 



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