Nov. 4th, 2011

raptureofthemoon: (scream and cry)
I went to bed and to sleep around 10:00.

And what happens?

I pop wide awake at 12:30 and I'm still freaking up...

Attempted to type some NaNo stuff (admittedly, I'm half assing a short story collection with a theme of 'tween places; half assing might even be too generous a term) and found myself more annoyed than usual with the crap!first draft, spurred in part, probably by the frustration of not being able to get back to sleep. (It threw me into one of those "I can't write worth shit" spins, in fact.). So I just let it be.

It's 20 to 4....I'd really like to sleep.
raptureofthemoon: (Hatter)
Collection: The Other Side of the Mirror
Title: "On the Sea"
Characters/Pairing: Alice, Tarrant
Songs: Crazy For You and Ray of Light – Madonna
Notes: Music Meme drabbles. These two came out linked.

Can't you feel the weight of my stare?
You're so close but still a world away

She’s come to know well the early hours of morning. Those dark hours where it seems you are the only person left in the world. On the sea. Hours that make you feel small, as if you’ve drank much too much Pishsalver.

Sleep has had trouble finding her, since her return from Underland nearly a year ago. She blames it on her never-still location, the incessant rocking of the ship that drives her from her bed to sit before the mirror affixed to her cabin wall, staring into it as if it might hold the answer to her sleepless nights.

And perhaps, she thinks, blinking as she watches the image unfold before her, the Hatter’s hands moving deftly over a bolt of blue silk—thimbled fingers carefully marking, measuring, cutting and stitching—it does.


She's got herself a universe gone quickly
For the call of thunder threatens everyone

They are not two evenings from the last port when the storm hits them.

She has never seen a storm such as this. It eclipses the moon, disappears the stars, makes the world go black.

The last thing she hears before the waves cover her head is a thundering crash, the unmistakable pistol-crack of breaking wood and the captain’s voice shouting over the din.

When she surfaces, the sea has swallowed everyone. And she is alone, floating on the back of what was once the captain’s cabin door, the rain beating down on her head, stinging her eyes. But that doesn’t matter, because she can’t see anyway.

All around her is dark. Dark swells. Dark clouds. Not even a flash of lightning to brighten the way.

Her fingers, chilled to the bone, lose their grip on the cabin door and she slips beneath the waves. The dark grows deeper. Her head feels strange, too big and too small all at once.

She opens her eyes; they blur and sting with the brine. But! There is something there. Just in front of her. A smear of a glow, like flame behind oily glass. And it’s coming closer.

She reaches out; her fingers brush smooth glass, find a wooden frame of worked roses and vines. The mirror from her cabin.

What fortune that she should just so happen to find it here in the depths of all things dark and ending. And she hopes it is not merely her mind playing tricks on her when her arm slips through the glass, up to her elbow, and warm fingers tangle around her own, gripping…grasping…tugging.


raptureofthemoon: (Default)
dreaming through the noise

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