“I can’t remember the last time this heart beat for anything sentimental. Her eyes might be oceans, but I know how to swim. I’ll bend before I break. I’m prudent because I care, not because I doubt our power. We’re untouchable, you know that. I’m being patient, that’s all. These days, time spills into itself like tributaries. I know who my enemies are, do you? You have no right to question my authority. My past is none of your concern, Natalia. If you continue to pry, there will be consequences. I’m tired, goodnight. My dreams can be peaceful too. I think I’d like to grow old one day; maybe retire in St. Petersburg. Alone. For chrissakes, don’t cower. You’re above that at least. You’re a soldier, Lucius — I expect you to act like one.”
“i open the doors of my throat & pull
out the barbed wire. from my unhinged
ribs, i take away the shrapnel.
nestled in my hipbones are all the words
other people have said to me & all
the words i’ve said to myself.
i set them loose. the sky becomes
flurries of ink-shaped falcons
which hover for a moment
before dissolving into the sky.
day by day i will fill the empty
spaces in me with clean rainwater,
until i am a body swimming
in my own resurrection.”
— prompt: body dysmorphia by @boykeats
Your character is standing before a mirror. Describe the creature that stares back at them. Do they like what they see? Do they fear it? Are their hands clean? Can you describe their attire? Your task should take place as a 300-word minimum drabble from your character’s POV. We encourage players to complete this task by Monday, September 18th.
Write 18 of your character’s most recent lies. These lies may be directed toward your character’s friends and family, to their superiors, or to themselves.
I know exactly what I’m doing.
I just wanted to pet your dog.
I’m not scared.
It’s supposed to look like that.
I’m fine.
Sure, that’s not a problem.
He’s just sleeping.
I’m fine.
I’m not lonely.
You’re doing the right thing.
I was going to give the wallet back, I swear.
Chunky has a great temperament.
Everything’s gonna be okay.
Bernard’s is just down that street and through the alley on the left.
“Flames cannot hurt me. I’m not drunk on him. The first time I saw you my mind screamed murder. The taste of cough syrup brings me straight to hell. Maybe if you kiss me right my sadness will escape when I exhale. My body hardened into armor a long time ago. Dad winds his love around me like a shroud. Why wouldn’t I trust him blindly? Choking feels like a kiss from chapped lips. You smell a little like Eve’s garden — ruin and salvation at once. The twenty-first century leaves nothing to the imagination. All burns will heal with time. The rain left scars all over my back. Sometimes the sun shines through the afternoon sky and it looks like falling diamonds. I’ll teach myself to be happy. You stare at me like a criminal right before you kiss me. Falling feels like flying. Nothing spells b r o k e n like f o r e v e r.”
— Lies Icarus Told Recently, Sunblind by @ibuzoo
For your first task, please write 18 of your character’s most recent lies. These lies may be directed toward your character’s friends and family, to their superiors, or to themselves. We encourage players to complete this task by Saturday August 2nd.
— Aislinn Rose, An Interview With An Anxious Poet, published in Rising Phoenix Review
Another night, another set of lies to live through. The biggest that Faddey needed to look different to be themselves. They knew every valley and dip, and hill and rise of their body, and needed nothing to change what was inside of them to match the outside. That was something that few knew. That what Faddey wore didn’t mean anything to them, didn’t dictate what they were. But those closed minded little people needed the safety of them looking like what they thought they should look like.
But tonight, it wouldn’t be another lie they needed to maintain. Tonight, they would be whatever they wanted. There was a line for the best bathroom, and lines for every other, something about this particular night made all of the residents of Poshlost languid until the last possible second, Faddey included. Instead of dealing with the crowd, Faddey had taken a tub of steaming water into their room, a washcloth in hand. This is what they had done on the streets, when they could warm water in secret. There was something calming about holding on to the practice.
They stood in front of the floor length mirror, smudged and dusty, something not cleaned in a long while. They ran the warm cloth across their willowy limbs, checking in the mirror to make sure they got every lingering bit of glitter, or sweat, or anything else that stained their skin. Faddey had never quite grown out of their teenager figure, chalk it up to starving on the streets for a while, but they were compact. They washed carefully. Faddey knew one of their draws was that they bruised easily, the wrong amount of pressure could cause darkness to bloom across them.
The cloth passed over Faddey’s arms, whipcord thin from years of use, over their shoulders, a curved bow now, that would straighten out into the sharpest of blades downstairs. Across their ribcage, still visible even with the years of good eating at Alina’s hands, down across their legs that were spindly like a newborn foal’s. Faddey examined their calves, their shins, running their fingertips across them to feel for regrowth of hair. Nothing noticeable, and their long delicate fingers lingered around their ankles, turning the pose into a stretch.
Breathe in, breathe out. Faddey held it, breathing evenly as the blood rushed to their head, waiting for their muscles to relax. Downstairs, Faddey might be as smooth as liquid, but everywhere else, tension held itself in their hips, in their lower back. Closed eyes, recollections of what has been done with and to their body rolled through, waves of memories like the blood rushing through their ears. Sometimes the even breathes broke into shudders, but they passed. Each aberration in their breathing released another group of muscles, leaving behind, at least for tonight, what was in the past. Once Faddey felt like they would tip over from being so loose limbed, they slowly inched back up, mindful of they way their blood moved under their skin.
Finally washed off, they were a clean palette, void of anything that Faddey didn’t want to show. Faddey walked over to their wardrobe, rolling their neck and shoulders out as they thumbed through the various clothes spilling out. Some where on hangers, others folded, some just haphazardly thrown in. They settled on a simple white silk blouse, a pair of black pants of slick leather. Underneath, a pair of boxers, nothing special tonight. The base was assembled, blouse sleeves rolled up, shirt half untucked in feigned carelessness.
Then came the surface. Out of a wooden chest half buried under the clothes came the jewelry. The silver bangle that they never went out without, its single diamond glinting in the low light. A clock face with a black band secured to the same wrist. A locket, a false heart lying on their chest, something one could easily pick up in their hand. Something that could make one think they possessed Faddey’s heart, as if it could be that simple. A simple band of velvet bound in a choker around their neck above. Three rings, nothing garish, all simple but glittering. A set of plain stud earrings, they had enough eye catching jewelry on.
Makeup, the finishing painted layer. From the top shelf of the wardrobe, a tackle box, ink on the lid in a bold font. ‘Ask before using,’ surrounded by glittering stickers of kittens. The ink message was Faddey’s, but one of the girls had done the stickers, and it alway brought a smile to their face. They sat in front of the dusty mirror, on the ground cross legged, open tackle box beside them. A towel laid across their lap to catch any stray makeup. A foundation, a nude lip gloss, faint bit of blush with the slightest hint of golden glitter mixed in.
Nothing lavish, there would be far prettier girls who needed more attention and far prettier girls who would get attention with less. Faddey had nothing more to do to prepare for tonight but there was half an hour yet before it began. They sighed, standing up, straightening out some things in their room. Replacing the makeup box, folding some clothes into more orderly piles that they know will be messed up with the next riffle through by one of the girls down the hall looking for just the right jacket or shirt or skirt. Their room as neat as they would be able to get it, they stood in front of the mirror one last time.
Looking back at them, was a stranger with many faces. Someone who existed how you wanted them to exist, someone they didn’t know half the time. One day, sometime soon, they hoped it wouldn’t be so. That watching the reflection in the mirror wasn’t going to be alienating. That rather than inhabiting a body that wasn’t big enough to contain everything that lived under it, they would see they had room to grow into — enough space to become something else if they wanted and still feel like it was a part of them. A plush lip slipped into their teeth, eyes like the coldest ice on the darkest night growing wide in fear above it before they slipped close.
Would it ever happen? Would Faddey ever be able to live without lies? The questions raced about their mind, a never ending hamster wheel of panic. Faddey let it all rule over them, shaking their limbs like an aspen, but only for ten seconds. Ten seconds to let it all out before they began the same pattern of breathing again. Once they opened their eyes, heartbeat and hands steady again, they turned the mirror around. No need to look at it again for tonight, and Faddey didn’t often like what they saw. Settled back into their mindset for the night, Faddey checked their watch. Five minutes until five. They leaned out the door, shouting down the hall.
“Five minutes! Masks on, boys and girls, let’s make this night good!”
“Don’t worry, you’re safe here. You can rest now. I’ll have you know I’m able to keep my rage and my duty separate from each other. This anger doesn’t blind me. I’ve learned to control it. I can protect them. I can protect you. Your mission is easy. You’re clever; you won’t get caught. This pain will be useful to you someday. If you live long enough, it becomes easier to bear. I trust her, Mikhail, and you should too. If you continue testing my patience, I will not hesitate to strip you of your authority. Of course it still troubles me to take lives. I’m not a monster, you know.”
