Spilt Blood

9/01/2015 ... I always wondered what causes people to picture things in their head a certain way. Whether it's emotion, or memory, or something harder to name. What interested me most was why it changes. You imagine something one way for years, and then one day, without any warning, it's different. And you can't go back to the way it was before, no matter how hard you try.

8/13/2015 ... There is a land somewhere, one of vibrant grass and ornate architecture, the kind of place where joy isn't performed, but is a natural byproduct existence. The light isn't sure what to call it. A dimension, perhaps? Another world? Whatever it is, it’s beautiful. Even now, at night, there’s a soothing calm to it. But the light doesn’t care about any of that. He's only just found this place, and finding it took long enough that he's in no mood to admire the scenery.

6/29/1316 ... My name is Edith, and I have not prayed in four months. I used to. God knows, or perhaps He does not, that I used to. Every morning, before the rooster crowed, I would kneel on the cold floor of our cottage and press my hands together until my knuckles whitened, and I would speak to Him the way my mother taught me, soft and grateful, the way you speak to someone who is listening. I do not kneel anymore. The floor may be the same cold stone it always was, but I have changed.

5/4/2015 ...

8/27/2012 ... The highway looks the same for miles at a time. Endless strips of faded asphalt cutting through alternating stretches of open grass and walls of trees, broken only by reflector posts and the slight glint of headlights rushing past in the opposite lane. Every few miles, a green highway sign emerges from the horizon, hangs there for a moment, then disappears behind me again.

5/2/2015 ...

10/11/2010 ...

12/8/2011 ... A figure of shadow stands before one of light. He regards the other in silence, bearing that same pensive furrow he affords all things not yet understood. There is, for a time, no movement between them. No greeting offered, none returned. He does not speak, not yet. There remains the question of whether he is perceived at all. Should he remain unseen, it would not be the first time.

4/14/2015 ... “No… No… No… Definitely not… No…”

5/22/-99999999999… ... A figure stands in a room unlike anything found on Earth. It is carved from ornate quartz and gold, its walls lined with massive pillars that stretch impossibly high, their peaks lost to a distant, hazy ceiling. Light drifts through the space without a clear source, catching along polished surfaces and scattering into a dull, colorless shimmer. The air itself feels heavy, as though it holds the vast weight of the universe.

9/9/2010 ... [I.You.Me has entered the chat] I.You.Me: hi I.You.Me: hi I.You.Me: who are you I.You.Me: i am you I.You.Me: no i am me who are you I.You.Me: i am you I.You.Me: you are me I.You.Me: yes I.You.Me: then who am i I.You.Me: me I.You.Me: we are me I.You.Me: yes I.You.Me: we are you I.You.Me: yes I.You.Me: we are me are you I.You.Me: yes I.You.Me: we are one I.You.Me: no I.You.Me: we are not one I.You.Me: we are one but also two I.You.Me: how I.You.Me: i dont know

9/9/2010 ... Syrup1292: I think for our final we should go with just a normal trifold. Dangerturnip: Nah, that’d be so boring. Think about it. We’re competing with the bigwigs here. The straight-As are gonna go big. We need to stand out. Syrup1292: But it’s haarrrd. We need ideas. Dangerturnip: Maybe something performative? Syrup1292: We haven’t even chosen a topic yet. Dangerturnip: Well, do you remember anything we learned this year?

4/13/2015 ...

4/5/2015 ... To: Dr. Felix Dusk From: Prof. Robert Newman Subject: Research venture