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Cicada Days
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i can feel something inside me say
[ *  *  *  * ]
It was dark in God's kingdom, and his children slept or perhaps wept.

She was not ready to say what needed to be said, and yet she had no other recourse. Time continued to march forward, and she had known since she'd been a wee innocent babe that it would not deign to wait for her. She knew that asking the time to slow at her behest was merely imposing herself onto others and onto the natural order. She would not play God.

Latanna stumbled, all the same. Mortality stayed her hand, in the form of constricted breath and a violently pounding, pouting heart. It demanded something she couldn't give it.

It demanded time.






fifty-six Mississippi

fifty-seven Mississippi

fifty-eight Mississippi

fifty-nine Mississippi

and, nine thirty-three

one Mississippi

two Mississippi


three Mississippi



four Mississippi




five Mississippi







Trying times made great men and women. She recalled that night of the candlelit vigil, recalled the sour mote of flavor that memory left puncturing cheek and tongue. She knew she had to be something more than what she'd been, trembling, pathetic.

So she ignored the trembling of her hand and wrote, and wrote until the watch her friend had built her long ago told her the time had gotten away from her, and she realized she had written through the darkness and it was once more dawn, the light announcing itself through her windows in rays stretching like the hands of a clock. She felt no warmth, only the cold and lifeless mass of the Enter key beneath her thumb.

Send



At some point an unknown amount of time later she began to count the seconds that passed with no reply.
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... but we must pick ourselves up again... · V6 Meanwhile...