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Nov. 5th, 2004
Writerly types have been posting bits from the work-in-progress. I guess I need to follow the flock, like any good sheep. From GHOST POINT:
Eagles.
Two eagles, low and huge, she'd heard the air torn by stiff wing-feathers and tail. Mature birds, white heads and tails gleaming in the clear sun as if they were suns themselves, the yellow beaks and feet glowing golden and giving off more light than fell on them. She couldn't breathe.
They circled her. Once, twice, three times they swooped past her and wheeled and returned, powerful wings driving by her so low she felt the wind from them, she thought she could have reached out her ski pole and touched the birds but silent except for the ripping sound of feathers slashing air, no threat, no move to strike her with those fishhook talons. She felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Eagles didn't act like this. Even protecting the nest, they didn't act like this.
"Guard us."
The words rode on an eagle's scream. And then they vanished. She twisted back and forth, scanning the air, even staring into the sun, and couldn't find them. Black dots swam in her eyes. She dragged one breath into her lungs, let it out, and fought for another. Eagles.
Eagles.
Two eagles, low and huge, she'd heard the air torn by stiff wing-feathers and tail. Mature birds, white heads and tails gleaming in the clear sun as if they were suns themselves, the yellow beaks and feet glowing golden and giving off more light than fell on them. She couldn't breathe.
They circled her. Once, twice, three times they swooped past her and wheeled and returned, powerful wings driving by her so low she felt the wind from them, she thought she could have reached out her ski pole and touched the birds but silent except for the ripping sound of feathers slashing air, no threat, no move to strike her with those fishhook talons. She felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Eagles didn't act like this. Even protecting the nest, they didn't act like this.
"Guard us."
The words rode on an eagle's scream. And then they vanished. She twisted back and forth, scanning the air, even staring into the sun, and couldn't find them. Black dots swam in her eyes. She dragged one breath into her lungs, let it out, and fought for another. Eagles.
Whoosh rattle
Nov. 5th, 2004 10:03 pmWindy tonight, the old sash rattling in their frames, clouds scudding across the stars. Stepped outside before coming upstairs and didn't freeze any delicate parts off, but that stuff out there is decisively November. Up to 12" of snow reported from some parts of the North Country. Don't know if we will shortly have tales of stranded hunters and Warden Service searches or not -- deer season is on, and some folks ain't got no sense nohow....