#misc excerpts

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

Once upon a time there was a child.

All good stories start with once upon a time, stated or not. So do most bad ones. There is always a beginning to every story, even the greatest story ever told: that began in a lowly stable, where nobody was looking at all.

But this story starts, not with a squalling infant, but a child. It was a girl-child, rather small for her age, but with a heart as great as any twice her size: at least, that was what those around her thought.

When she looked at her heart, all she saw were the mistakes and imperfections. If she had looked a little way into her past she might have seen a time when she did not see the imperfections, and she might have only seen the love that was pent-up within her, but now she looked at her heart and saw the little errors. Everyone (except in the greatest story ever told) has such errors, but the girl-child only saw beauty and strength in the hearts around her, and saw truly only for herself.

People made comments, well-meaning and trying to guide her to smooth out the imperfections as she grew older and at last taller. But the child hugged the words to her heart, and they made very tiny cuts.

Time passed, and presently the child was a girl, and now she needed no words from others to cut at her heart, for she did it to herself, never seeing what others said was in her, a great and full heart.

Cut after cut after cut came to her heart, and slowly scar tissue began to form. And the girl-child looked at the scar tissue and branded herself a failure, and her words cut deeper.

Presently the child grew into a woman, with a greater and more steadfast heart than before. But she saw it not, for all she saw was that which she had made: a monster of scarring, a mockery of the true heart that still beat within her breast. And she whispered those words she had whispered for years, and still had the audacity to be surprised when they cut so deep.

But this is no longer her story, for once upon a time there was a book.

That book contained the greatest story ever told, and many other stories that all built up to and enhanced that story; and all those together told of that which wove the foundations of the earth.

But though that book was finished, the story that book told continued through the ages, and even the girl-child, with all her petty pain and suffering, was part of that greater story: and she was as nothing within it, but the Author of that story looked upon her and saw her distress.

And he gave the girl-child, now a woman, friends to gather around her and hold her together, and in response she tried to help them and make them happier and closer to him, but sometimes all she could see were the scars on her heart. Her friends, true wise souls that they were, spoke often to the Author about her, even at times when she was overwhelmed by her own inadequacies. They tried to show her the heart she had; and sometimes she tried to see it and sometimes she hugged the falsehood close, because the idea of having been wrong was unbearable.

You might ask where this story ends, and what happened to the woman. I am that woman: and the ending to my story is in the Author's own book, and it will be revealed to me piece by piece, and I must trust and keep on walking forwards, though sometimes the night seems very dark.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

"...Because you don't know anything!" Her voice rose to a shout, and Edmund blinked, raised his eyebrows and tugged the door open. As he had expected, Jill and Eustace were facing off, Jill's expression flashing with anger. "You don't know anything about me, Eustace Clarence Scrubb!" Eustace raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Pax, Pole - pax! Do you really need to full-name me?" "Oh, so now I'm Pole?" she snapped. Edmund shut the door and leaned against it, watching Jill's expression closely. He was surprised she had not turned to acknowledge him. "Shall I call you Jillian Eris Pole in retaliation, then?" said Eustace unsmilingly. Her face flamed red. "Don't you dare, Eustace - " He took a step closer, glancing rapidly around to make eye contact with Edmund. "Why on earth not?" "How do you know my name, anyway?" "We were at Experiment House together, silly; I know everything about you." "Everything that comes from being at a school," said Jill sullenly. She seemed suddenly downcast.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

okay BUT an idea

in which a character has spent years resenting this one specific person. they meet again after a long time. she falls in love. he does not.

it's kind of a tragedy told from her perspective

this is what the ending would be like, something like

She laughed, almost deliriously. After all, there would always be other men to dance with. She laughed, and gripped the railing as she heard him talk with his wife. There would always be other men; she sank slowly to the ground, and covered her face. None like him.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

"Hold on!" he shouted. But it was too late; her grip had given way and she tumbled from the ladder, still holding fast to her unconscious burden.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

[in response to my tags, @etlu-yume said: Hey, if you wanna write a short fic for cosmic bunny go for it <3 I'm glad it could inspire something! :D]

"Etlu"

Animal Emoji 7/7 Bunny - Jeon Jungkook Others in this series/set: [Koala] [Hamster] [Cat] [Squirrel] [Duck] [Bear] [Bunny]

Cosmic bunny can be found at the above link. :) And the short fic can be found here!

***

Night falls.

The rabbits stir, as usual. The little ones sneak behind their mother, confused and watchful. There's too much around them, too much they don't know. What's that? - Oh, what's that? Friend or foe? Threat or harmless? Living or dead? Or did it ever live?

One of the litter looks upwards at last, at just the right moment. A great pale beauty soars high above it, and the rabbit stares and stares and stares until its gaze is filled with the thing above. Its mother tells it that's the moon.

And the tiny rabbit, for the first and last time in its life, falls in love.

*************

They tell it that it can't possibly get there. It's a waste of time. As it grows up and learns which grasses are good to eat, which are worth braving men to steal, and which are a waste of time (not to forget the ones that would leave a rabbit very ill or worse), the rabbit watches the sky. Every full moon it rejoices in its lady's light. It's determined to get there, somehow.

They keep telling it that there's no way it can get to the moon. It would need wings, to start with.

So it befriends an eagle.

*************

Turns out the eagle has connections. The rabbit's dizzy with new knowledge and information it didn't know was possible. It clings on very tight as the eagle flies, with it on the eagle's back, a little way above the ground, then above the trees. Then the rabbit's claws give way and it falls.

Turns out one of the eagle's friends is the dryad of the pine tree, who catches the rabbit and sets it on the ground, telling it not to reach for the moon with wings anymore. That's not an option. But the dryad just might have another solution.

*************

It requires persistence. The rabbit used to be purest black, when it was born way back when. Now it's a sort of sandy colour, much more like its fellows than it used to be, and the only thing that hasn't faltered or changed in all that time is its determination to get closer to the moon.

All of its friends, even the dryad, have either died or stopped speaking to it. Never mind. The rabbit's sure the moon whispers sometimes, when it's terribly quiet, and the rabbit is alone with the moon.

Does it need a chaperone?

*************

At last it's a magician that comes up with the solution. A magical purple gem. The rabbit always liked purple. It takes it eagerly. There's something about a payment, but it doesn't care. If it can have a moment, even a moment, closer to the moon, that'll be enough.

It clings to the gem, and then - it happens.

The cosmic bunny is on the moon. It clutches the gem tightly in both paws, and stands up and looks in wonder. Its paws are on moon dust. It could have a dust bath on the moon if it liked.

It can do anything. After all, it's the cosmic bunny.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

For @freenarnian: I saw your post a few minutes ago and it reminded me of a snippet (barely edited, to tell the truth) from The Violinist that I rather like. Don't ask why it reminded me of that, it just did.

Funny, he’d thought he could run away from his problems, but they followed, like a too-obedient dog. Although those thoughts had never been quite as clearly stated as that. The weariness had stripped him of the ability to hide from the hideous spectre of himself. He’d run away, for lack of a better thing to do. Victor had never quite hated himself so much as at that moment, as he lay shivering on a damp and slightly clammy bed and mourned. He got up, limbs feeling leaden, and went outside, remembering that only sailors would be around, and after all, he shouldn’t be ashamed of crying. The last of the sunrise still hung delicately in the air, as if waiting for him to emerge. He caught his breath, a smile creeping unbidden to his lips. It was beautiful, pale pink delicately patterned on the clouds, with touches of yellow and orange. A clumsy movement might have shattered the delicate beauty, and so he was still, staring at it partially reflected in the ocean. He could almost imagine there being a still, small voice whispering in the quiet: not in the earthquake, or in the fire, but in the silence. It faded into the pale grey-blue of morning, and Victor let out his breath in a sigh.

(The Violinist is one of my favourite of my short stories.) Tell me what you think of it, if you would! And feedback is always welcome.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

"In truth my heart is neither brave nor bold, but if such you have granted me, I must now make an effort to live up to it."