Category: Girlie On The Edge
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26 Aug: A Six Sentence Story
17 of 27 – Ruinlit: Courage Mistaken for Recklessness Bounce: The 28th Glyph It started with a bouncing ball — brushed her ankle, rolled off the curb into traffic — chased by a boy no taller than courage, his hair sunrise, his eyes bright as thawing ice. Then came the car, chrome-gilled and blood-sleek, chaos’s…
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19 Aug: A Six Sentence Story
16.1 of 27 – Aetherskein: The Fragment: The Unseen Loom The Shape of a Word 19 August: Back home at an Intersection Named After an English King and a Saint: Brigid opens her journal to a fresh insert — thread-stitched, soft as confession — and when the pen touches cotton paper, a single drop of…
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19 Aug: A Six Sentence Story
16 of 27 – Aetherskein: The Fragment: The Unseen Loom Journal Entry: Beachy Head — 18 August, maybe 19, the moon doesn’t care Where the Thread Ends Twice A ribbon slips ashore at Brigid’s feet — opal-lilac, sea-soaked, old as plague-song — and the tide murmurs her name wrong, like someone remembering it from a…
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13 Aug: A Six Sentence Story
15 of 27: Featherhung – The Fragment: Unfinished Flight The soundtrack comes first this week: Best read with this music stitched to its unfolding glyph. Broken Dreams By Milad Ghavipanje. Part 4: Lindisfarne, Holy Island, 7th Century Brigid hunched over her desk — a slab of bog oak, black as a raven’s throat — when, halfway…
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5 Aug: A Six Sentence Story
Where the Air Remembers Your Name The elves stitched the sunlight wrong that day—threads too gold, too tight — even the trolls’ granite knuckles itched, their slow blood humming something, something. Elverhøj yawned open, just a slit: a shadow slid out, licking the air for old witch-scent. She waited, blind eyes milky as the cave’s…
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30 July: A Six Sentence Story
Flood Floodwater licks the porch — it tastes a memory. A child’s red balloon bobs along the wall’s wet breath … a fridge drifts past like a coffin; forks whisper from inside the drawers. A woman wades through the hallway, her nightgown a pale blossom unfurling as she clutches a dripping photo album, its names…
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22 July: A Six Sentence Story
14.2 of 27 – Driftspire: Lindisfarne – Before dawn, dreaming Part 3: Driftspire’s Tidemark Brigid dreams in crow-black ink and saltwater glyphs — names she realises she wrote herself, now unspooling like psalms soaked through by rain. Felreil stands at the edge of her sleep, voice soft as worn vellum: “Of course you dream this…
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21 July: A Six Sentence Fish Story
MicroDosing: 55µg – The Depth of Blue-Grey Cold Year on year, that trout knew the river’s elbow-turn. Its icy thieving bite at bait. The humming tone of my father’s hook circling the same blue-grey crook of curved water. Depth was measured in patience. He’d cast and recast, quiet as the current. And the water, full…
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16 July: A Six – The Book of 27
14 of 27: Driftspire – a Colour once felt, not seen—The Joy of Being Completely Unknown 16 July – Lindisfarne: Holy Island, Northumberland – low tide, salt breath, sheep for company PART 1: (6 Sentences) 14 of 27 — Driftspire: The Joy of Being Completely Unknown The North Sea sleeps at low tide, and Brigid…
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9 July: A Six Sentence Story
13 of 27 – Stillrift: Peace Earned from Ruin Let It Become Weather It didn’t feel like peace when it came—just the absence of argument, like a room forgetting your name. That night, Felreil appeared as a crow on the footboard of Brigid’s bed, dropping black stones onto her feet—each one etched with a word…
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