erase:rewindOnce upon a time,erase:rewind
(is there any other way to start a story like this? a story filled with love and loss and a little magic?)
(anyway)
once upon a time, there lived a girl who knew the rules. The rules said that nice girls waited for their Prince Charming to arrive on his noble white steed and to rescue them from the toil of working lives and the drudgery of singlehood.
This girl meant to be nice, she really did, but she could not help getting it all just slightly wrong. She had always been the impatient sort and she didn'
Nice GirlsI do not recognize the man next to me in bed.Nice Girls
I'm sure this is a dilemma that girls all over New York - all over the world, in fact - face on a daily basis. I shouldn't be so disturbed. After all, I am a mature adult woman. I am allowed to have the occasional one-night stand. And I am most definitely allowed to partake of copious amounts of alcohol that lead to one-night stands and forgetting of names. I'm sure this guy, whoever he is, does things like this all the time. He has to, how else could he manage to sleep so peacefully in a strange woman's bed?
And drool.
On her brand new 300-thread count Egypt
Something ForgottenSomething ForgottenSomething Forgotten
She stands at the edge of the forest and thinks, something has gone wrong. There is something not quite right about the world. The sun is bright but the clouds are dark and thick as they roll across the sky. The air lies heavy on her skin and her breathing is harried, shallow. Something has gone wrong, she thinks as she stands at the edge of the forest.
She wonders what that something is.
*
At night she dreams of long winding corridors and staircases that spiral up into nothingness. She sees t
i always did cont'd:i always did cont'd:i always did cont'd
I never did know quite why you chose me to ride in your car. You were the first in our small class to get your license. You showed up fifteen minutes late to first period one fall day, a small smile dancing in the corners of your mouth and a suspicious jingle in your pocket. The class crowded around your desk as the first bell rung, risking a detention for lateness to see the tarnished key that dangled from a paperclip in your hand. I was on the outskirts of the circle that surrounded you, always unsure of my right to be seen, to be heard. You smiled mysteriously as classmates asked about your car - an
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