SeptemberSunrise

The gravel crackled under my feet. My old Converse, with ink hearts on the back of the sole's and gray shoelaces and holes along the sides, was slowly rolling back and forth along the gravel. The soft motion slowly swung me and the metal chains above me wailed quietly. The chilly autumn breeze tugged at my tied back hair and bright scarf and bare hands. Lonesome leaves drifted by me and I continued my slow swinging. You sniffled sharply and disturbed the silence. Your boot clad feet were impatient on the fine gravel below us and your restless fingers curled and uncurled around your swing's chain and your eyes wandered over the deserted play

I was heading west. That was the only truth I knew of. I was beaten and broken and I was heading west. Because she had fled from me and I was doomed without her. She had left our scanty, Brooklyn loft in the middle of the night, in a hurricane of emotions and tears and howls. She had pulled a tank top on backwards over her pale shoulders as she had backed out of the apartment door, crying and shouting and apologizing. She had left everything behind. Her job, her friends, her life. Our life. My life. She had left me behind. I had chased after her, not keen on letting her go that easily. She fled through the pouring rain and I followed he

Smoke and ashes was still rising from all over Trost. A soft breeze produced goosebumps at the back of Connie's neck and made the small hairs on his arms rise. His worn shirt had been rolled up to his elbows and his torn jacked was discarded somewhere behind him on the roof he had found himself at. His head shamefully between his legs, he tried to organize some order out of all of the crap that had been that day. His heart jumped as the memory of that ugly bastard that he had failed to kill itched itself onto his retina and his hands pressed themselves to his scalp, as if the petty pressure alone could erase it all. It was night. It wouldn'

It was windy on the top. That was the only thing she could think of. Ethan was dead, and she would soon lie lifeless on the street hundreds of feet below her. She looked out over the city again, and ignored her hammering heart. She could see all the way to the fourth quarter from here. Unlike the first, second and third it was in complete obscurity, and the only thing she could make out was the slightly taller buildings silhouettes against the increasingly brightening sky. It would soon be dawn again. But the brightly illuminated first quarter was still sleeping peacefully, under her feet. But her time was quickly slipping away, and she

Carlisleton recovered surprisingly well. Just two fortnights after the hunters had left our town, my life and everybody else's had returned to normal. Every morning I woke up before the sun, walked over to my plain job at the Carlislesons and stayed there until the sun had set. After the entrance of the night, and a required supper, I went into the narrow recess at the back of my small lodge and stewed and stirred in my dozens of cauldrons before the moon proved that I had already lost too much sleep. I had deviated from my mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers chosen path as healers and had already as a little girl started to dally