I think I can still feel the sharp grass, splintering my cold feet. The wind runs her fingers through my hair, and the sea of prairie grasses sway. I sway with it. In the distance, bare gray trees draw a line across the horizon, hiding the moon in their tangles. I tread silently through the foliage, observing. A dull web glimmers in the dew, the carcass of a cricket rustles, and the dripping moon heaves herself out of the brambles. The further I walk, the more discomfort rises from my stomach, and yet I grow more determined with every breath the sky takes. The night air is loud, a storm of owl song, coyotes, and crickets. I hold my hands over my cold ears and press foreword through the thick sound. My head aches, and the world buzzes as I run, my whole body hurts and feels heavy, and ahead of me I see a dark shape. As I come to a slow, the heaviness lifts off of me, and I can feel my back cooled by moonlight. I crouch down and the tallest grasses brush my face and blur in front of my eyes. I shift forward to the illuminated shadow and look into my face. My body is tangled in grass and cloth, and my thin skin is coated in a layer of moonlight. I stroke my cold hair and hold my drooping face in my hands. My head smells like dried blood. I lay next to my crumpled self and look at the stars though my new ghostly eyes.

I had a whole story written but it got deleted. It’s late and I need to go to bed but I want to keep my streak so… maybe I’ll have the omph to try again tomorrow. 🥲

Quick- shape my clay face into what you want me to be- before I can choose my self, before I dry- help- press your fingers into my eyes if you don’t want me too see -wait- ignore my conscience screaming- mold my face into something prettier-please- something you would like better or -wait- peel my skin, need in mud and make me ugly-I want you to feel pretty -stop- I would be anything for you -or-

Maybe you could let me be? And like me with my soft clay face …changing… but let me touch my own face-gently… and hold my hand and let me grow?

No-change me- quick to something-help- that you would like better -no… -I would be anything for you.

(Sorry for not following the prompt I just wanted to share) Today I ate breakfast in a porcelain banana. And I wore my favorite hat. And someone liked it-and my overalls-and my shirt. And I had a cough and a girl I didn’t know gave me a handful of cough drops to keep in my pocket all day. And I drew a picture that I liked. And my little brother was excited to have tea with me. And show me his plans for his Halloween costume. And my sister is singing to me now. It’s an earworm from over the garden wall, and I just took a bath and I used a new almond soap and now I smell like cookies, and now I have to go because I have a piece of warm homemade chocolate bread waiting for me in the kitchen. It’s been a nice day.

The 37th world (kaimaltha major) went dark about twelve generations ago, due to the dust of a star that exploded millions of years ago surrounding their sun (the Rosa 24) resulting in a possibly permanent darkness to the planet. This event however, though classified as a catastrophe, could be considered the main event that sparked the beautiful culture of the kaimalithan people. Since their world went dark, their culture developed a unique focus on the other senses beyond sight- and their culture is especially known for their exquisite clothing which focuses on the galaxy wide sensation of touch. This clothing, while being amazingly ingenious in design and taste, also accidentally brought millions of creatures and cultures together, because touch is the only completely universal sense shared by every known sentient species. On my visit to the incredible planet, I was immediately disoriented- but met by the gloved hand of a tour guide, whose sticky soft fingers astounded me. As I met different people of this planet, I learned about the textiles of status and the textures of personal expression. For example, most tour guides of the area I landed in wore the same spongy gloves, and ordinary bystanders avoided them so they wouldn’t be confused for a worker. Most kaimalithans I encountered wore an accessory called a “shell” which orbits around the wearer to avoid collisions with other pedestrians. Usually shells are a soft, bouncy texture, but they very depending on a person’s style. When I was there, I bought one that surrounded me with a misty, fluffy texture, and I soon realized that not only did the shell prevent me from bumping into someone else, it also helped me navigate the city, because when something brushed against my shell-I would feel a slight pressure from that direction, which helped me find my way around walls. One of my favorite parts of visiting was meeting new people. When you were introduced, you were expected to feel the persons outfit, to see how they expressed themselves, and get to know them better. My favorite outfit was one from a kaimalithan working at a fruit festival (the festival smelled amazing by the way) who was wearing a skirt that was cold and foamy with a rock hard smooth belt which felt a bit like glass, a silky blouse, a shell that felt like liquid sunshine, and a sharp scratchy hairpiece to ad contrast to the soft outfit. I can’t really explain it, but it was like I got to feel a piece of their souls. Not just the fruit vendor, but every person I met. It makes me wonder if we just paid a bit more attention, we could see the pieces of people’s souls thet they put out into the world just like I felt the souls of the kaimalithans on their dark planet. As I have returned to my home planet (earth 17) that is what I’ve tried to do. And even though I know it’s wrong to judge by appearance, my experience helped me find the importance of both how a person presents themselves, and what sensory perception we choose to focus on as a culture and as a species.

Oh dang hair flip they must have changed the app icon because of me

“Don’t you want to know?” Says the first stranger on the bench. “Know what?” The other replies.

“Everything.

Why my eyes are gray- Why the wind replies- When the sky will be dark again- What will be the last song you Hear before you die ?”

Hunched over- the other plugged it’s ears and cried. “No!” It screamed. “I will never die.”

“ What you dream about at night - Why humans write poems? Why can’t I get this one right? Why the world has to end For every one of us- Why do we get to be sentient? And why do you still cry?“

“No!” The other figure in my mind breathed- “I don’t want to know” it mouthed. And with pounding heartbeat, the two outlines in my head collide.

The flowers perk up My skin rises into bumps And it feels heavy

(And a true one)

I have a nine year old sister, her name is Beatrice but everyone calls her Buzzy. And she is powerful. When she was born she was the quietest, sleepiest baby in the seven seas. (Her name means peaceful voyager) But-there’s a legend, that if a baby like that suddenly becomes mischievous, loud, and chaotic overnight, then that baby must be a changling. Swapped out for a fairy. (Not the tinker bell kind(think Shakespeare)) well that would be Buzzy. It’s an ongoing joke in our family. Anyways- when Buzzy was little, she loved Azula from avatar. She’s a pretty nice, pretty cool sister most of the time, but honestly it’s hard not to be scared of her. She has crazy charisma. And a few days ago, my other sister Harriet lost her tooth. Than lost it again. (Couldn’t find the bag it was in) she looked all around the house and buzzy offered to help. She went straight to the trash can, and pulled it out. “How did you know where it was?!” (That’s what Harriet said) “I told the universe I would bite it if it didn’t give me the tooth in the first place I looked.” I told you buzzy was powerful.

—————————————- Sorry for the long beginning I just figured some context to who buzzy is might help explain why I found the situation so funny.

Dear rolling hills your swaying waters, That which make the sky blush so. Hold tight the ribbon round my neck, Of blue so dark it glows.

Dear thickest ground of mud and mine. That which is nothing but everything with added time and stone, I fell into your grass. And In your arms I found my home.