We Are Still Walking

Unc and I keep walking this road, this Serpentine Road.  We hear a lot of things following behind us, keeping pace with us, in the woods on either side.  This is not always a good thing.  I have also discovered that my donkey likes to talk to himself, under his breath, all the time.  Sometimes what he mumbles is meant for me; usually it is not.  I have given up trying to decide what I should listen to and what I can ignore.  The sound of his voice is as droning and as comforting as the clopping of his feet as we travel side by side.  I keep my hand on his shoulder as a guide, since I keep getting lost in the forest of my own mind.  I need Unc to be there for me to lean on, for him to lead me wherever it is I am meant to go.

The noises in the wood bother me, but only marginally.  I imagine great beasts, full of talons gleaming and fangs dripping, following alongside of us.  Or, for all I know, it could be a battalion of mice.  In my own heart, I prefer the giant raging monsters to the tiny little forays of rodents, any day.  But that’s just me.

I retreat to the trees with which I am most familiar, those within my own mind.  The dusty trail before me vanishes into an airless desert, brighter than bright, clearer than clear, burning hot and all too empty upon my arrival.  I find myself kicking through sand, struggling to walk, as the earth beneath me seems to move and writhe, clasping my ankles to pull me, not down, but back.  Hold me back.  Slow down.  Slow down.  Sibilant whispers exhort in my mind.

For the first time, Unc appears with me, or at least part of him.  I am small, smaller, clinging to his tail as he pulls me along, yanking me as if I were a child having a tantrum in a store and the parent is all done with this mess.  I get a very good view of his backside, which I can truly do without some days, really, but this of all things anchors me.  My donkey’s butt is my comfort. I hear the murmur of his voice, the soft beat of his feet.  I watch his haunches shift and move as he walks on.  He is completely oblivious to me.  I am but a fly on his behind, or so it would seem.

A cool breeze comes, touching me, probing my temples with gentle reticent fingers.  There is a song to be sung, listening to this breeze.  It kisses me, taking the salt from my skin and creating an ocean zest that drives me on with a fuller heart.  I seem to be growing.  Still too small to be myself.  But that doesn’t stop me.  I try harder, pushing to keep up with Unc, but I am still too weak.  The donkey must continue to tow me along.  I cannot do it alone.

Soon, the breeze becomes a steady gust, coming from behind, pressing against me, giving me its strength.  I cannot help but cry.  My chest aches, where my heart should beat, where nothing remains but broken pieces and grit.  Tears burnish my cheek, but the sky above takes pity.  A warm mellow rain began to fall, echoing my tears, without the burn, without the pain.  It didn’t stop the welling up of emotions.  I held fast to Unc’s tail as the sobs hit me, over and over again, jerking me, causing me to lose my footing.  My placid donk did not seem to mind, did not seem to care.  He kept moving forward, unperturbed by me.

There was a great rock in my chest where my heart used to be.  The drizzle from the sky grew into me, through me.  Droplets with tepid ease pounding away at the rock inside me, wearing it down, wearing it away.  Until I crumbled.  Until I was dust.  I fell to my knees, but the donkey carried me on, unbeknownst to me.

I became a small seed, stuck fast against the ground.  A grand black bird swoops down to swallow me.  I find myself living out loud.  Falling then, in this dreamscape of mine, caught once more by the wind, gently buffeted down, til I come to rest on one single silver strand.  A multi-faceted face examines me.  With delicate fingertips, She caresses me, wiping away the tears and the roughage.  She starts to weave, all around me, over me, through me, intricate designs made from the finest of silks, braiding and building such a fine palace of thread.  She is illustrating my life for me.

I have no clue how long we stayed there like that, transported and transposed, held aloft, falling and yet not.  She drifts from one edge to the other, connecting here, connecting there, breaking things off in places, moving aside to reconnect and splicing in new lines.  My mind falters.  I watch the slim furred body jetting over here and there, sketching for me my own personal landscape.

She touches my cheek, long after I have gone to sleep and come back to myself, time and again.  The Moon has come and gone and come again.  She kisses me, with her tainted lips, her fangs covered but no less exposed.  I feel the venom slip down and touch me, sliding over my lips.  If all poisons taste this sweet, like the juice from a honeysuckle, then let me die in peace.  She wishes me well.  I am released.

I find myself again walking the Serpentine Road, my hand still on Unc’s side.  He is complaining under his breath about being forced to walk in the rain.  Sure enough, a light sprinkle of drops covers everything.  Almost a mist.  There is a smell to this air, so reminiscent of where I had just been.  I shiver, not from cold, but from recognition.  I edge closer to my mule’s side, trying to steal as much of his body heat as I can.

Unc stops dead in his tracks.  He slams his head against my body to be sure he has my attention.  So, fine, it does take me a few steps to realize he has stopped.  It doesn’t stop me from being surprised though.  ‘What?’ I demand, sounding more angry than I mean.  The mule actually sniffs me, as if he were a dog, nuzzling me darn near from head to toe.  ‘What!’ I nearly shriek.  Even for Unc this is strange behavior.

The donkey looks me right in the eye before snorting mucus all over me.  ‘You,’ he spits, ‘smell funny.’

I literally fall over, laughing, my arms hung round that mule’s neck.  It is just too funny.  After I can stand upright again, after wiping the tears of mirth from my eyes, still hiccupping a little from the deep belly chuckles, I ask, ‘What the heck do you mean by that?’

Unc takes a single step back, eyeballing me studiously.  He is not laughing.  ‘Take off your shirt.’ He orders me.

‘What?’ This is baffling.  Here we are, standing in the middle of what appears to be a very well traveled road.  Even though we had yet to meet anyone, that doesn’t mean if I start to strip someone won’t show up out of nowhere simply to see what sort of thing I wore beneath my outer clothing.  My donk is unamused.  ‘Do it.’ He insists.  I groan, not even under my breath.

Off come my outer wrap, which I draped with utmost grace over that stubborn ass.  Then my shift.  Then my shirt.  And as I look at my undershirt I see a strange thing.  Now, the entire kingdom can come watch me undress for all I care.  The undershirt comes off, as does the bra.  Over my heart is this wondrous amazing …. Thing.  And Unc is right.  It smells, strongly.  Smells of Spider’s poison and honeysuckle.  I’ve been marked.

Ever see a donkey slack-jawed with awe?  It’s pretty funny.  I would have laughed if I myself had not been so stupefied.  Woven into my skin, in the brightest of colours, is the tapestry of my life.  A map of my heart and soul.  ‘What a gift is this,’ drawls that irritating donkey of mine.  I stare at him, wide-eyed.  ‘What do you mean?’

I hate when my donkey snorts and blows snot all over me, but he is so good at it.  ‘You have been marked by the Hand of Fate.’ He tells me. So, of course, I glare at him.  ‘What does that mean?’  Donkeys can shrug.  Did you know that?  Unc bobs his head and looks away, not giving in to my sarcasm.  ‘Means you’re in for some real treats.’

I cover my breasts with my hands, finally.  I must have been quite a sight standing there.  I keep looking at this portrait on my chest.  ‘Yes,’ I implore, all serious now, ‘but what does it mean?’

Donkeys smile too.  Unc has a real huge malignant looking grin that can scare the monster under the bed into the arms of the monster in the closet.  He grins that huhge honking grin at me.  He knocks against my one arm with his big thick skull and brays, ‘You’ve been marked, Sister.’  And then he laughs.  Loud and long.  ‘That is your heart map, baby.’  Again with the laughing.  ‘You have a big debt to pay.’  Then he nudges me, carefully, almost tenderly. ‘Put your clothes on, girl.’  He takes a few steps back to gape at me.  ‘You’re about to get us both eaten, standing there like that.’  As if I were the one who all of a sudden decided to spontaneously strip my clothes off and parade around in public for the whole world to look at me.

I hmmph at him as I throw my clothes back on, snatching my wrap from his shoulders in a huff.  The evil creature giggles at me.  ‘Let’s go,’ He cackles at me, ‘before those beasties in the thicket decide they really are hungry.’

‘Great.’ Now I am muttering under my breath.  ‘Can’t wait for that.’  I have to jog a bit to catch up with Unc, who has already started off on his merry way after I took back my wrap.  I fall in beside him, grumbling inaudibly, as is he.  I don’t feel liberated anymore.  I don’t feel quite safe either.  The image over my heart does not burn with heat, but radiates a comforting sort of warmth.  After listening to my mule, I’m not so sure that is a good thing anymore.

Marked By The Hand of Fate

written by Tabitha K

http://onthewrongsideofthemirror.wordpress.com/

Our First Night

I left Unc snoring softly under the apple tree that he had decided would be an excellent place for us to camp for the night.  There was a well not too far from our campsite.  We had a small fire glowing comfortably.  Everything seemed in order.  Except, of course, for me.

I couldn’t sleep.  I don’t sleep well to begin with and here I was trekking around with a talking donkey.  I was feeling very much like an onion, in need of a good peeling.  Time to remove some of my tough outer coverings.  Sometimes I think that, time to let go of things.  Other times, things just happen.  I am always a bit surprised, no matter which way things go.  Even though I work hard at not feeling surprised by the things that happen to me.  I work at going with the flow of things.  Even though I always seem to be the rock stuck in the middle of every stream.

I tried to be so very quiet when I got up.  Tried to minimize the rustling and the stumbling that invariably happen the more I try to be quiet.  Unc snuffled companionably in his sleep, snorting along with sonorous glee.  I wished him good dreams as I slipped off into the dark.

I had no clue where I was going.  I just knew I had to walk.  I did it at home all the time.  Wandered.  For no real reason.  A walking meditation.  That was my excuse anyway, if forced to provide some clue to my actions. I shut my brain down and shut it off.  I had to stop for a moment, to gather all the little monkeys chattering in my brain and stuff them in a bag.  Had to tie the bag up tight and then toss it in the raging river that was my mind.  I took a very deep breath, held it a moment, then let it go, watching those little monkeys sink, being eaten alive by that hungry swirling river of mine.  I knew they’d be back, but not for awhile.  I had time to be free, to be the silent me, for a little bit.

I listened before continuing.  There were night birds softly chattering back and forth to one another.  I could hear the minute patter and stirring of smallish creatures.  I was hoping to avoid hearing the dread shriek of the owl as it froze its prey into place moments before it snatched the little thing off the ground and flew off to feast.  I heard an unexpected murmuring I shouldn’t have.  It sounded like a creek.  Unc and I had done some exploring before we settled in for the night.  We had not found any such body of water.  The well had been it, with its smooth wooden bucket and its sturdy pull rope system.  Yet, here I stood, listening to the distinct sounds of water running over stones.

My feet moved towards the sound before I consciously realized I was heading that way.  I entered the woods, a thicker version than I had noticed during the day.  The animal sounds grew softer, but more varied, wilder.  The ground switched from dry and dusty to moist, clinging to the bottoms of my bare feet.  From warm dust to cooler soil.  I felt a subtle shift touch my heart, softening it, smoothing out the rougher edges.  I hate when that happens.  I really do.

The smell of jasmine wafted through on the smattering of breeze.  I stepped out of the wood and into a clearing.  There on a rock, situated by a small roiling stream, sat a most beautiful creature.  I could tell at a glance she wasn’t human.  She was, luminous.  Other-worldliness exuded gently from her pores.  The scent of night-blooming flowers came from her.  She was the Source.

She was leaning over, gazing into the water, letting it bubbled over her fingers in child-like delight. ‘Come over here.’ Her voice was lyrical, a fountain of melody cascading through the night to caress my cheek, my ear.  I didn’t speak, mostly because I couldn’t, even had I attempted it.  I simply did as I was told, settling into a kneeling position at her feet, my gaze obediently pointed at her fingertips gliding through the crystal clear deluge of the stream.

She turned her focus to me.  As soon as those clear golden eyes touched mine, I knew.  Angel.  I don’t get many of those.  I have often wondered why.  Maybe I am not ‘good’ enough.  Maybe I just don’t notice them.  Maybe they fly too high-and I don’t.  She smiled, and my heart just broke.

Before I knew it, my head was buried in her lap and I was bawling my eyes out, sobbing, rough hurtful ragged wails, blubbering and whimpering and wringing out every last bit of hatred and anger and jealousy and bitterness and denial and agony I held hostage in my heart.  It hurt.  It physically hurt.  As if I had great big chunks of broken glass in my heart and in my chest and here I was trying to vomit them forth through my eyes, with my voice.  I felt as if I were battering myself senseless against a shoal of jagged rocks.

I don’t know how long that went on, until it reached me that she was singing.  Singing to me.  Singing for me.  Singing to heal me.  She held me close with one hand, one arm.  The other hand she used to stroke my back, smooth my hair.  Gentling me.  Calming me.  I wanted to just die.  Get it over with.  Let me go Home, I thought with every ounce of desire I could muster.  She never broke stride in her song, never paused with her stroking.

1. For once the monkeys were drowned, and they stayed that way, and I had no worries about their impending return.

Her hand dipped into the fragrant crystalline waters and drew forth a handful.  She poured this with such grace over my head, not exactly bathing me, more anointing me.  She repeated this gesture, cupping the water and drifted it, dribbling it, over my head, my hair, my face, again and again and again.  Baptizing me.  Washing away my hurts and pains and ills.  Healing my broken heart.  Mending things enough that I could see a way out, a Light, somewhere, far down at the end of my days.  Water trickling into my eyes.  Ice cold stream twisting around as it freed me, darn near boiling off my flesh as it dispersed my poor inner daemons.  I closed my eyes, and breathed.

I sank into my breath, sank into the earth, sank into this beauty’s lap and her rock-hard side.  Swallowing gulping heaps of jasmine bloom fragrance.  Lulled by the play of the rivulets trickling through hair, over flesh, down my neck, running down my back.  I sank deeper, falling into the well that was myself.  I was not perfection.  I was not perfected.  I was content.  Exhausted.  But, at the very least, pleased with myself.

I have no clue when I stood, when she left, how things happened.  All of a sudden, I returned to myself as I was edging back into camp, the fire, by then,  mere glowing coals.  I slowly, methodically, began to build it back up a bit.  My skin was damp yet and the light breeze brought a chill with it.

‘So,’ groused the donkey from the shadows, ‘did ya find what you were lookin’ for out there?’

I could not hide my smile, so beatific it must have been, given its genesis, though utterly lost upon the mule, I am sure.  ‘No, my friend,’ I told him.  ‘Something found me.’  I shrugged, mostly for myself, poking the wood with a stick as the flames licked at both.  ‘Something I would never have thought would come to me.’

The great lovely donk of mine harrumphed irritably.  I heard him adjust his position, almost caught what he was muttering under his breath, before he settled back down.  His snoring all too quickly began assaulting my ears once more.  I settled down close to the fire, wrapping my blanket around me, settling my head against my arm.  All too quickly I too fell to dreaming.  I just hope I wasn’t snoring that loud.

written by Tabitha K

http://onthewrongsideofthemirror.wordpress.com/ http://knittingjourneymanredux.blogspot.com/

Here We Go A Walkin’

‘Well.’ I eyed the dusty road before us uncertainly.  ‘Where do we go from here?’  Uncetrys shoved me from behind, pushing me solidly forward.  ‘Just move your feet.’ He muttered in that silken James Earl Jones voice of his.  Darn mule.  ‘Great.’ I stumbled over word and foot as the donkey continued to push, his forehead pressing my back like a solid heaving brick.  Uncetrys chuffled, sort of a donkey giggle, I guess.  At least I seemed to be amusing him.

‘How do we know which way we are going anyway?’ I didn’t mean to sound like a whiny little kid, but, hey, I am trudging alongside a donkey, in the hot bright sun, on a road going to who knows where to do who knows what, and I was a bit perturbed by the entire scenario.  I wanted to go home to my nice little cottage tucked in between the cool shadowing trees and await my friend’s arrival so I could force tea and scones upon him while he told me of his day.  Uncetrys gave me a massive shove, which nearly sent me flying, although I had to nearly run for several steps before I caught up with myself.  ‘Stop thinking so hard, girl.’ Uncetrys informed me.  I don’t care how sexy his voice was, this was not my ideal partner at the moment.  He was really getting on my nerves and the journey hadn’t even really begun yet.

‘You know, Unc,’ I taunted him, ‘I could give in and just ride on your back the whole way and let you make all the big decisions and do all the heavy lifting.’  Uncetrys actually stopped, and grabbed hold of my sleeve to stop me too.  ‘Unc?’ he asked in a very strange perplexed voice.  I grinned, my best happy happy face, hopefully without too much sarcasm dripping, ‘Yeah, Unc.  Maybe I’ll call you Uncle.’  I batted my eyelashes at him in what was supposed to be a winsome and charming manner.  He snorted donkey snot my way.  Joy. ‘What?” I demanded, hands on my hips.  “I am supposed to call you Uncetrys the entire trip?  I can’t have something like a code name for you or anything?’

The darned donkey actually shook his head, apparently embarrassed for me.  ‘Just because you cannot go by your own name and you feel the need to hide everything about who you are doesn’t mean everyone else does too.’  He advised me.  This time I snorted, but at least I wasn’t blowing anything all over him when I did it.  I tossed my hair back over my shoulder and looked away.  I was a bit amazed at myself.  I hadn’t expected tears to show up this early in the game.  Nevertheless, here I stood, fighting and blinking til they disappeared and I could face my own noble steed once more.

‘So,’ I asked slowly, ‘no uncle then?’  Uncetrys then surprised me.  He brayed with laughter.  Loudly.  I swear the crazy mule nearly fell over.  When he was done, I saw tears shining in his eyes, although I was thinking it wasn’t fair he got happy tears and I got tears of pained confusion.  That’s my life.  As soon as he could control himself he warbled unsteadily, ‘You are just way too sensitive, girl of mine.’  He giggled for a second more. ‘If you be Kaily, then this time, my little lost Alice, I shall be your uncle.’  He heehawed a bit more.  ‘I am the monkey’s uncle.’ He shouted, breaking down into laughter anew.

Using my best I am so offended you stupid donkey voice I yelled, ‘I am NOT a monkey!”

The donkey instantly became serious.  Deadly serious.  ‘Then stop acting like such an ass.’

Oops.  I just hate it when something like that happens.  Contrite, I apologized.  ‘I didn’t mean it.’  I turned to commence walking.  ‘I am not really sure what I am doing or where I am going.’  I shrugged, as helpless as I could get without giving up my unyielding independence.  ‘I am not really sure why I am here or what’s going to happen.’

‘After that, who knows what will happen?’

Then, he jabbed my shoulder, and Uncetrys has some strength behind his blows when he wants to.  ‘Ouch!’ I yelped, turning to look at him.  At least I was smiling by that time.  He rocked me forward by shoving his head against my chest, rather firmly.  ‘At least we’ve got each other, kid.’ He teased me.  He actually caught my chin with an upswing of his head, not hard, but still.  ‘Let’s get moving.  I want somewhere decent to sleep tonight.  You’re slowing this wagon train down with all your yammering, girl.’  I tried not to attract flies with my mouth open and agape, so I shut it and followed my mule, demure now in my attitude.  So much to know.  So much to do.  And here I was, listening to a donkey be my Guide.

Things like this happen to me.  I don’t know why.

At least I will never be bored.

On our trek we go.

written by Tabitha K

http://onthewrongsideofthemirror.wordpress.com/

http://knittingjourneymanredux.blogspot.com/

Uncetrys The Donkey

Uncetrys The Donkey

I am always the last to know anything.  I am always on the fringes of everything.  To be honest, I do live in my own little world and I follow my own things, which usually do not include a great many others.  I have my outside sources of information, but they are few and far between, and are mostly the people who love me best in spite of myself.

I had heard rumors of a trip, a life-altering tour of the continent sort of trip.  My best friend told me I should go.  He even bought me the ticket.  He held me in his arms and kissed my forehead as he told me I needed to get out of my home and visit the world, see what I could see, before I became too old too fast, before my sodden fertile garden swept up to envelope me and I never got away.  The scent of his skin and the beat of his heart I carried away with me, locking it deep in my soul, for I knew how much I would miss him.  But, because it was him, I did decide to go.

When I got to my first final destination, I found out my trek was to be made on donkey-back.  Uhm, I’m not much of an ass person; I am much more of a horse person.  Give me a great shiny steed that looks as if he can gallop for miles and for days on end any day without pausing for such needless things as, say, rest or water. Yeah, sounds like my knight in shining armor that. Donkeys.  They are small and dull and they smell.  But then again, that pretty much describes my dog as well, so who am I to judge?

I was the last person to come through apparently.  I was told that others, many others, even stragglers, had come and gone weeks ago.  I must really have missed the boat, some older gentleman missing several teeth leered and tried to joke with me.  I have a sense of humor, but not when I am feeling too small and inadequate.  I shrugged him off as I looked out into the fields.

There were only two donkeys hitched to the fence near the entrance of the cantina or whatever it was.  The man who rented out the pack mules sat in a folding chair, under a big umbrella, waiting patiently as he fanned the flies away from his face with a bit of newspaper all folded up.  These two little grey beasts didn’t bother to look up at me.  I felt no real affinity for them.  I had to pick someone though, obviously.  I sighed out loud, sorrowfully.  I wasn’t planning to walk with my pack flung over my shoulder.  Especially since I had no idea how long this journey would take, much less how far it would be anyway.  I had been given a general map.  That didn’t really help since I am not much of a map reader.  I was going mostly on faith.

Again, I looked out into the field.  Not too far from where I stood was a tree, a thick solid thing, its trunk brown and black in the shadows cast by the abundance of leaves on the limbs above.  I could see sticking out on either side of the tree two donkey ears and part of its sides.  It was a greyed honey brown shade, from what I could tell.  One ear flicked randomly to shoo away a menacing fly that was just too stubborn to give up.  Before I knew what I was doing, I whistled, the same whistle I have used on horse and dog and cat and any other critter that ever came near me, since I was a child.  The same whistle my grandfather used to call in the horses from the fields when he was alive.

The donkey behind the tree jumped, both ears flicking this way and that, before he peered out from behind that tree to look at me.  There came that blast of affinity and knowing that I had been waiting for.  This then was my donkey.  I smiled at him.  He snorted and hid behind the tree, very unimpressed with me, it seemed.

I chucked at him, under my breath, sort of like I chuff at the chickens when I feed them, only this was louder and deeper.  He peered out from behind the tree again.  He puffed out his breath again, and ducked behind that darn tree again.

Ok.  So, I was losing my patience.  As well as all my good will towards the asses of the world.  It didn’t help me the fat man behind me chuckled at my dilemma either, with no offer for help.  Was I going to have to catch the darn beast myself or what?  With my bare hands now less?  I did what any well-bred farmer’s daughter would do.  I stuck two fingers in my mouth and uttered a long shrill piercing whistle the likes of which could wake the dead.  Then I hollered, ‘Get your ass over here now!’  in the tone of voice that would stop a raving berserker in his tracks immediately, which seemed quite fair a thing to me at the time.

The mule balked a moment.  He actually took a step back and I heard him grunt in annoyance.  It did the trick though.  He slowly meandered from his hiding place and came towards me.  If he ambled any slower I might have to carry him on this journey of mine.  I gritted my teeth and swore above in an effort to gain some patience and to take this in stride.

He came right up to me, hanging his heavy head over the fence so he could knock me off-balance by head-butting my shoulder, in what seemed a good-natured manner.  The heavy-set man snickered a little as he hefted himself up out of the chair to come towards me.  He nodded in the donkey’s direction, ‘He’s an odd one, that,’ I was told.  “but he’ll take you where you need to go.’  I scratched the pretty varmint directly between his eyes, leaning into him as I did.  He nosed into my pocket, the little thief, grabbing the apple I had stashed in there as a treat.  I am not sure if I had meant to eat it myself or to treat whatever came my way during my trip, but he got to it first and I wasn’t arguing over that.  Maybe it would seal the deal between us.  Earn me some of the creature’s goodwill or something.

The mule nudged my arm after he was done chewing.  ‘Name’s Uncetrys.’ He informed me.  I was not surprised the donkey spoke to me.  Everything talks to me, living and dead.  It takes a lot to surprise me these days.  ‘Uncetrys Tratec Outshi the Third.’ The brute had a carefully modulated voice, throaty and pleasant, not unlike James Earl Jones.  Ok then.  I was going to fall for the donkey based on his voice alone.  I sure was.  I stroked the wheaten edge of his ear and replied, ‘Nice to meet you, Uncetrys.  My name is Kaily, otherwise known as Alice.’

The donkey harrumphed as he stuck his nose under my arm and shoved me merrily.  ‘Why Alice, Miss Caitlain James Scott?’  Oh, well, then.  How good was it that the beast knew my name when I wouldn’t even admit it to myself?  ‘Alice because I just dropped down the donkey hole, of course.’ I told me.  He blew out his breath in my face, but seemed satisfied. ‘Kaily it is then.’  He prodded my chest with his head, pushing me back a step or two til I caught myself.  ‘Nice to meet you.’  I rubbed with deft fingers under his chin, as if he were my favourite pet cat.  ‘I do believe,’ I intoned right back,’ it is nice to meet you too.’

written by Tabitha K

http://onthewrongsideofthemirror.wordpress.com/

http://knittingjourneymanredux.blogspot.com/