The sun set in the east.
I pounded my fists slowly against a large rock, leaving bloody stains, each looking like half a heart. The night was dark and freezing cold. What the hell is it with New England and deep chills?
The sky was brighter over the mainland, streaks of purple and yellow crowning the horizon like orchids on moss. But the brightest star in my universe set in the other direction, dimming like a fading fire that has run out of fuel.
Sometimes, crying makes you feel better. This wasn’t one of them.
How can someone that beautiful find this world so unbearable? Why couldn’t her beauty carry her through whatever rough times she hit? Couldn’t her own glory cheer her up?
Facial expressions are stupid. There was no one around to see me, but my mouth was twisted and my eyes were wet and stinging. I was sending clear visual messages about the bitterness in my heart. But there was no one around to see.
The news of a coming baby makes most people feel joyous. But now it led to separation and death. How can one innocent little life do so much unintended harm?
Screw this. I don’t feel like writing.
— Donovan Graham, “The Shadowless Writer”
Comment — Gemstone: You should talk to Meg. She’ll understand.
Read previous blog entries in the Island Wars story by clicking here.