Jul. 11th, 2006

OOC

Jul. 11th, 2006 10:00 pm
fredless: (Fred Artist by Iconmania)
Yeah, wow.

It's been a year, and I can hardly believe it. So I wanted to thank each and every person I ever threaded with, and and all who were so welcoming. It has been more fun than I can say!
fredless: (Default)
They'd hardly been home. Just a few hours really, long enough to get the suitcases, and themselves, inside. Cleaned up from the traveling, and then a snack of course, because they never did anything about feeding a body on flights anymore. Then there was calling her folks to let them know she'd landed safely. And in between, fitted into all the hollows and spaces of time in between were the welcome homes, and the greetings of only slightly annoyed pets, and a story or two. And everything had been full, heavy with time occupied and well-used.

Then it'd been time for bed.

When something had gone and woken her up at just past midnight, she was a little startled at how little thinking it took to figure out the culprit. Still, Fred approached the investigation formally, mouth moving quielty in the darkness has she did the math, counting backwards in careful, even units of time. And when that was done she traveled back again, this time with more mundane tools of cell phone contracts and car payments.

Month by month by month, till two by two became one by one. And the answer getting easier still.

It occurred to her, just then, that nothing had changed for all her counting, and figuring, in the last few minutes. And then it occured to her again, after, that was exactly the point. Now all was left was to make sure it stayed that way.

Doing her best to untangle herself from sheets and sleeping bodies, Fred slipped quietly from the room and headed right for the stairs, then down them, and then to the front foyer, not touching anything all the while. It wasn't that she believed it fate, she didn't. And it wasn't that she thought it was her time, because Fred didn't believe that either. The odds of one girl mattering on such a universal scale, of taking any such notice or thought at all was enough to be in a place past funny. It wasn't her time, it wasn't anyone's. It never did, could, or would belong to her. All she could do was keep the math close, and try to understand it.

Because time belonged to itself. Calenders and quadrants, cycles and circles, it was moving and shifting tides and seasons. Steady systems, all of them. Patterns, all of them.

The weather followed it. Their bodies followed it. Even portals followed it, warm one day, then cold the next. And maybe whatever it was that'd brought her here, maybe it followed it too.

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Fred Burkle

May 2015

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