Fic: A Letter
May. 15th, 2006 06:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
knights_say_nihJack's anxiety put down in a letter he'll never send.
Dear Mercutio,
I wish I could invite you to share my bed here, but I am not sure you would be allowed. There is little perception here, and no beginnings or endings to everything. All except the part where I stay is white and you can never be sure if you are standing, lying, falling or flat on the ceiling unless you concentrate. I carry a string with me so that I can dangle it and be sure. I think it is sort of like being drunk.
But the part where I stay is nice. The walls and sky are white but I have a blue rug on the floor and my bed of brass still and the blankets from Verona that I should have liked to seen you on them. Maybe I will try to fix gravity and then you can come.
I meant this to be a short letter but it looks like I will be rambling again. My original aim was to ask you about something you wrote before. I have the letter saved but it said, I think, ‘time enough for touching of bodies.’
All I wanted to say was that I would not like to be simply another body for you to touch or you one for I. I do not understand things at all, I must say, and you must please bear with me and remember that I could hardly run from Belial’s room afterwards fast enough for fear that he walk away and leave first which I could not have born, and more, that I have spent all my life waiting to be left in the spring and while I do not think you would do such a thing if we cannot touch bodies and still be friends as we were before where you remained the sort who would take a moment and check to see if my soul (I did not have one before though I am told I do now, you know) was hurting. If you are going to be like Belial and not spare me the time of day now I confess right now I shall weep bitterly. I would like it if it were both, but if it cannot be let me know it now please?
I need more punctuation. And to stop fretting, I know. But I have written this letter three times and it is not getting any better so I shall either send this one or tear it up, depending how worried I am when it is morning and I have thought on it further.
No, I will not send it.
And he didn’t.
Dear Mercutio,
I wish I could invite you to share my bed here, but I am not sure you would be allowed. There is little perception here, and no beginnings or endings to everything. All except the part where I stay is white and you can never be sure if you are standing, lying, falling or flat on the ceiling unless you concentrate. I carry a string with me so that I can dangle it and be sure. I think it is sort of like being drunk.
But the part where I stay is nice. The walls and sky are white but I have a blue rug on the floor and my bed of brass still and the blankets from Verona that I should have liked to seen you on them. Maybe I will try to fix gravity and then you can come.
I meant this to be a short letter but it looks like I will be rambling again. My original aim was to ask you about something you wrote before. I have the letter saved but it said, I think, ‘time enough for touching of bodies.’
All I wanted to say was that I would not like to be simply another body for you to touch or you one for I. I do not understand things at all, I must say, and you must please bear with me and remember that I could hardly run from Belial’s room afterwards fast enough for fear that he walk away and leave first which I could not have born, and more, that I have spent all my life waiting to be left in the spring and while I do not think you would do such a thing if we cannot touch bodies and still be friends as we were before where you remained the sort who would take a moment and check to see if my soul (I did not have one before though I am told I do now, you know) was hurting. If you are going to be like Belial and not spare me the time of day now I confess right now I shall weep bitterly. I would like it if it were both, but if it cannot be let me know it now please?
I need more punctuation. And to stop fretting, I know. But I have written this letter three times and it is not getting any better so I shall either send this one or tear it up, depending how worried I am when it is morning and I have thought on it further.
No, I will not send it.
And he didn’t.
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no subject
Date: 2006-05-16 09:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
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