#1481

If my mind is a house full of hallways full of doors, then what is yours? I see an ocean, steel gray water stretching in all directions to touch a steel gray sky. There’s nothing to swim toward but if you don’t keep treading water you’ll slip beneath the waves, choking on icy liquid as you thrash and sink. Horrors lurk beneath those waves, just waiting to pull you down, down, down. No wonder you drink; it must be the only way to keep the chill at bay. To forget about the monsters.

[R]evolving Incarnations: A Questionnaire for Passionate Readers-Elyssa Tappero of Only Fragments

onlyfragments:

I don’t normally (ever) reblog something, but I took part in A Small Press Life’s reader survey Revolving Incarnations. See my answers here! :)

Originally posted on A Small Press Life:

[R]evolving Incarnations: A Questionnaire For Passionate Readersis an interview series done in classic Q&A format. Each entry features one intrepid writer/blogger/artist/creative mastermind as they take on the same 40 reading-themed questions and scenarios. Be sure to leave your thoughts in the comments section!

ELYSSA TAPPERO

Elyssa is the writer behind the fantastic blog, Only Fragments. Please stop by and say hello!

  • What book have you always wanted to read, but haven’t? Why?House of Leaves. I’ve heard good things about it, but was intimidated by its complexity. Now my carpal tunnel makes it hard for me to read physical books, especially large ones, so this one is definitely on the back burner.
  • What is your favourite line or passage from a book? I have to give you the whole passage or none at all: “The boys raced down the linen path in Egyptian darkness.
    “Watch for…

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#1480

If my mind is a house full of hallways full of doors, then what is yours? I see a forest in black and white, like a Polaroid taken at night; white snow, black skeleton trees, darkness pressing in all around. A bleak forest through which you move with a predator’s stealth, silent and alone. An empty forest in which the threat comes not from what may lay in wait within the darkness, but the darkness itself; it would be so easy to get lost within its depths, to walk so long you forgot the path back to yourself. Who knows what you’ve already left behind?

#1478

I used to hear your voices as clear as if you spoke directly into my ear. It’s not like that now, though. Now it’s as though I’ve entered a room just after one of you has left, with only ringing silence and clenched fists to suggest an argument took place. Now it’s as though I’ve only glimpsed a few words from a letter left carelessly on the desk, and must use them to piece together a life to which I’m no longer privy. I am trying not to mind. Sometimes we cannot communicate the things we need to communicate in straight, bold words. Sometimes we need to speak in half-truths, in unsent letters, in silences and withheld gestures. I am trying to be okay with that. I am trying to let you communicate how you need to communicate, even if I’m rusty with this language.

#1477

they don’t know that I carry you everywhere, always, but I want them to, I want them to see you flashing behind my eyes, an anger that isn’t mine, a danger I don’t pose, they should see you somehow, I should cover myself in black ink, the stuff of your lifeblood, I should tattoo your words of bitterness and illfate on every inch of my flesh until I’m covered, overlapped, a Rosetta Stone to decrypt the ages you have lived and died a thousand terrible existences, if I carry your weight on my shoulders and your sorrow in my heart and your rage like a firestorm in my blood then why not my skin, why not your thoughts and threats like graffiti on this vessel to show them I am the scribe, the keeper, the conduit for something so much darker and more terrible and beautiful than myself