wary sky,
you bite your nails at daylight's end
leaving crescent slivers
at the sun's descent

it's darker now
it's thieving
a cadence plotting your demise
how deceiving

in quiet myrrh
in solace
warm cotton blankets
lay you to rest

it's half-past
shadows in ochre
pearly white
to ashen-colored

don't think of time,
the haunting gloom
just quiet, hush
the sun's out soon

head in hands, daydreaming
in pink and violet guise

pinned-back hair, bow-tie
virgin cocktail and a dash of wine

masking rose blush, cameras flashing
smiles on cue in tiny lenses

drinks in hand, crystal glasses
table talk in saccharine

mini vases, wildflowers
take them home to dry

singing stories, raging fire
smoke against the starry sky

clouds freckled on a blue night,
do you dream of a starry sky?
would you take glitter for your ivory,
a silver orb for your golden eye?

on vivid canvas of blue gradient,
are there grounds for your deceit?
you shape the sky to pass the time
while for dusk you lie in wait

you wish you were, you wish you might
be one of millions at midnight
a grain of pewter on black velvet
a slave of nightfall, its source of light

but what of your capacity to shift the torrent,
to carry the crimson that dazzles at sunset?
and what of your downpour that awakens the earth,
or your prism of colors, iridescent?

clouds freckled on a blue night,
do you still dream of a starlit sky?
would you keep your ivory, if you please,
and let me gaze as you drift on by?

a waltz to the falling sky in evergreen
to the rising of the forest floor
the earth drowned in beads of opal
from trees dripping in an encore

a gentle wind caught on fallen leaves
a scent of peated moss emerging
the flare of solace through trees, alluring
a halted tempest from the clouds of fury

the Lyrebird whistles to the tune in memory
a sea of tinsel and streamers lay testimony
"How sublime, brilliant! An admirable performance!"
a collective sigh from the mist at morning

We just wanted a quiet spot out of the house. We had packed a blanket and a couple of drinks in a lunchbox, all we needed was a view. We didn’t know the area, but every beach on Google Maps within 10 minutes all sounded the same. We tried the next beach over. The maps led us to a dead end with a path to the beach. It seemed a lot quieter based on the lack of cars.

Every beach has a number of signs before you enter. This one had a “no alcohol” sign. Maybe that’s why there were no people here. But we were so distracted by the open beach and the crashing waves to be overly concerned. We just wanted that quiet spot. The size of the beach left a lot of space for us. There were a few families here and there but spaced out enough so that our walk across the sand didn’t interrupt their view. A family was having a picnic. A father was teaching his daughter how to surf, the mother standing along the shore in her red bikini getting attacked by waves.

We had found our quiet spot where we could lay out our blanket, placed our shoes at each corner. We remembered the sign. We weren’t planning on getting fined that day, so I googled to see if this particular beach banned alcohol. Turns out alcohol is prohibited on beaches near schools. So we sat there, lunchbox unopened, thirsty from the walk along the sand, and watched the little girl learning to surf smash her face into her board with every wave that came her way.

passing notes
in heavy hopes
in a hurry
hope no one knows

lost at sea
what are the chances?
you inhabit me
stumble over my feet

do I look like I'm oblivious?
is it too late to turn around?
need no one to know
an excuse to look down

the hot sun is burning
a trail of vanilla, lingering
and I'm convinced that you know
you know
                 you know
                                  you know

I awoke, staring up at Lois’ blurry face. I couldn’t make out her face completely, but I could tell that she was satisfied with my disoriented state. Somehow, I ended up on the floor of the library as if I had fallen from the unseeable top floor.

“Not even my first time was this bad,” Lois muttered.

I struggled to keep my eyes open. Were the lights brighter now? The room was both blurry and blinding at the same time.

“Now get off the floor and pull yourself together. I’ve made you a tea,” she said, any hint of concern she had conveyed now gone. “And don’t worry, it’s just chamomile.”

I felt my way up, reaching for something to hold on to. I couldn’t make out where Lois was, but I imagined she found my situation amusing.

“Where did you go?” she asked from somewhere in the library. I sat down in the chair I had fallen from.

“I’m just here,” I replied, my tea wasn’t yet at a desirable temperature.

“I know where you are,” she said in frustration. “But where did you go?”

I caught a glimpse of her now, standing on the second level in the center of the library. She held my gaze. I knew what she meant, but I couldn’t remember. My mind kept flashing back to when I was drinking my tea and woke up confused on the floor.

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enjoy xx

the feeling of water over skin so warm
or a rush of white noise and murmurs in noir

like pressure on the skull, a violet tumult
all wrapped in silk, in a veiling gold

Does the scarlet shrill make you want to implode?
a haze, a hum, in monotone

like droplets from moonbeams in black crystal
where the waves would consent to swallow me whole

A playlist for September:

Click here for a YouTube Music playlist link

was that thunder on a clear day?
or waves crashing
into empty hollows on the rocky shore?
it's changing and changing
and ever-changing
a rush, a chill, a scenic lore

in cool orange

in waves and waves
           and waves and waves

blazing, slowly melting
like colors fading
in hues of serenity

a tangerine

honey-glazed february,
why are you so different in the water,
where you sparkle next to the willow tree?

lemon-drop sugar, blinding

there are angels in her eyes
collecting galaxies of neon waves,
nebulas of rosy fallacies,
fairy-floss from shades of mixed berries

a little cherry, bittersweet

And you could, in all your power,
deprive me of the same shade of blue,
the trace of grey as it fades into you.

But would you be so cruel if you knew?

Mystics Beach, NSW

The water was freezing. My limbs went numb before I could actually start enjoying it. The waves were crashing onto us, but the deeper we swam into the ocean, the calmer it got, enough to be able to ride with them. It came to the point where we actually didn’t realize how far into the ocean we were until we had to swim all the way back to shore. But we were so addicted to catching the waves and anticipating their impact. How big, how small?

02

I watched The Princess Diaries for the millionth time. I swear, Mia Thermopolis gets more and more relatable the older I get (pre-glow-up).

03

I finally finished reading The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley. Some of my favorites lines from the book:

‘God is captain whose orders I must trust. He knows this ship better than I. Is the world a ship?’

“He lives in me like trauma does. If you ever fall in love, you’ll be a person who was in love for the rest of your life.”

“March came in, mellow and pastel. The air felt washed. The scrubbed newness of the spring gave the rooftops and the street furniture a friendly polish. I was angry, every day, terrified of death at the hands of a burst of blue light, and I was also nursing fragile joy. It was disorientating.”

“Forgiveness, which takes you back to the person you were and lets you reset them. Hope, which exists in a future in which you are new. Forgiveness and hope are miracles. They let you change your life. They are time-travel.”

04

There are so many people around me all of the time, I’m bound to create a story or two about each one of them. How else will I keep myself entertained?

05

Went into the city today and saw some live music for the first time in a while. It was cheap, and it was good. I love discovering new bands.

a nervous smile in the calm, in the midst of brewing storms,
a double glance before the wind.
Twice. Was it twice?

something in the stillness, a disconcerting tranquility.
I saw lightning in the distance, did you see it flashing behind me?
I heard it struck the park across the street.

the wind is getting stronger, the thunder louder,
the sky a grey, a green, a powder blue,
every step a darker hue.

I fear they saw us walking in calm complacency,
glancing back at the sound of rushing winds,
showers teasing the air with false vacancy.

I wonder if you made it safe inside,
the skies are pouring rain,
a quiet thrill, can you feel it too?

01

An unexpected visit to Denbigh Farm in Cobbitty, NSW

02

I’m exhausted by the constant presence of people. I need to be alone with my thoughts for a while and then let myself run wild with them.

03

We found a little spot on the rocks to drink our coffee and enjoy the perfect view of the beach. Today was such a good reminder to take time off every once in a while and let my body heal.

04

No one knows what our limitations are except ourselves. And no one will ever know unless we tell them.

05

We can find ourselves using our precious time to only do things that we’re sure of, something we know for a fact will make us feel good after doing said thing. That’s usually how people enjoy using their personal time. It takes bravery to let ourselves feel vulnerable, to do something that makes our ego feel uncomfortable.

You found me at the sea,
where we listened to the ocean breeze.
In waves of chaos,
you were my frigid release.

Tell me, is it safe?
The sand is warm under glacial waves.
Will you let me wander in the haze?

Words flooded in your eyes,
and now I'm crashing into you.
Sentiments implied I let you terrorize.

Will you ever let me breathe again?

Whitewater from the breaking of desire,
in a tee and rolled-up jeans,
and no one can save me but you.

Hands cold, brisk air
slow breaths in cool despair

Deep brown, rose blush
words flooded in a soft hush

Turns out it can be
so exhilarating
getting lost in the depths
of endless serenity.

Hundreds of miles down

So when your heaven is drowning,
drowning in mine,
will you let me steal one another time?

Locked eyes, walk past
through me like a window glass

If I ask, will you tell?
"Can you see through me as well?"

You can see through me as well

The kitchen was lifeless. It seemed like I needed to wipe my hand over every inch of the walls before finding the light switch. I fumbled through the cabinets, which were mostly empty, aside from a few packets of single-serve quick oats, a stash of expired canned goods, and a small tin of loose-leaf tea leaves.

The teapot contained the dregs of day-old tea. So I started the kettle and prepared the pot for a fresh brew.

I decided to go check on Lois while the water boiled. I didn’t want to make it seem like I was constantly keeping my eye on her even though she knew that’s what I was hired for, so I thought I would ask how she took her tea. Though, she seemed like the kind of person who took her tea black.

But when I walked into the library, there was no sign of her. Only the white rabbit was left sitting on the armchair looking as confused as I was. 

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Skies dressed in tattered tulle,
silver linings, and lingering dull.

A sun is lost in clouded hollows,
imminent gloom, and forsaken afterglows.

Can you hear the faintest boom,
the raging silence,
the reckoning loom?

A humming, a hawing,
a sky withholding.

A drip, a drop,
a rush comes full-stop.

Then tip-tap on the pane, a symphony.

The front porch was held up by rotten cedar posts, and one of the window shutters was hanging by what seemed to be a single nail. I walked up the creaking steps careful not to step on a questionable floorboard when I was faced with a tall, narrow door with a lead-light panel.

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My knock was timid. Like a child’s.

It was mid-afternoon but the glass reflected a dull darkness. My eyes searched for any sign of movement but the only response was an eerie silence.

"Hello?" I attempted to shout out. I knocked again. Louder this time so the flapping roof panels didn't drown out my voice.

The black glass gradually morphed into a pale, wrinkled face. Eyes dull. Black. Like the glass door was possessed by the image.

"Hi," I said. "Um, I'm Holly. Your new caregiver.”

No response.

"Are you Lois?”

"Yes, obviously." Her voice was gruff.

She walked away and dissipated into the darkness. I was about to respond to her curt response but decided it was pointless. So I took in a deep breath and let myself in. 

The house smelled of stale coffee and lavender. I couldn't see a thing past the doorway, so I paused before taking another step.

"Are you coming in or not?" She said finally. I could see a faint light emanating from the back room. I made my way through the hallway, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. I was afraid I'd stub my toe on the corner of an unannounced object. The amount of times I've done that I shouldn't even have any toes left.

Mental note: Wear closed-toed shoes.

"Sorry I just can't see where I’m—"

When I reached the end of the hallway, in the back room was Lois, sitting in a velvet French armchair with tassel fringe that bordered the bottom so that it looked like the chair was floating. She wore round reading glasses and was holding a book in one hand and petting a white rabbit that was on her lap with the other. She looked up from her glasses with a slight eye roll, annoyed by my silent reaction as I took in my surroundings. 

The room was expansive with vaulted ceilings that seemed to go on and on. Filled bookcases covered every wall, and unending spiraled staircases took you to every section. It was a library of dreams.

"I don't need help," she said. The soft light that glowed from the glass chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling and emphasized her angled facial features.

I remained silent, still stunned.

"I'm a reader myself," I said finally, after pausing long enough to make us both feel uncomfortable.

She grumbled something I couldn’t quite make out. The number of times she’s probably heard someone say they loved reading was probably exasperating like someone saying they loved Italian food when the only Italian food they’ve had was pizza.

"How long have you been collecting books?" I asked. I figured she'd been reading all her life, but it didn't hurt to ask.

"Longer than you've been alive," she grumbled.

“Is there any book in here you haven’t read?”

She scoffed. “I know every book in here back to front, in and out.”

I walked the perimeter of the room, quickly scanning every shelf to see if I recognized any of the titles. Every book was a hardcover with engravings, foils, and artwork that distinguished them from any I had ever read. I considered every title trying to find one that I’ve at least heard about, desperate to find a connection with Lois.

“I thought you said you were a reader,” she spat with a chuckle.

“I am, but …”

“These are special books, only one of a kind,” she explained.

“So then how — “

“No more questions from you today,” she interrupted. “Now, if you could just leave me to my own business, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Sorry… I mean… if ever I could loan one of your books I’d return it, I promise. I know how frustrating it can be to loan a favorite book to someone and never get it back.”

“I don’t think you would like these books very much. They wouldn’t be your cup of tea,” she chuckled. “Which reminds me, I think the kitchen needs cleaning. And a cup of tea would be nice.”

I tried not to show my agitation. I honestly wouldn’t mind an excuse to not be in the same room as her.

“I’ll get right on it,” I said, trying to mask my frustration with enthusiasm.

Read Part 2 of The House On the Hill

I wake from my slumber when the clock strikes midnight, 
when the moon shines bright, dark made light. 

When you drowse, I stir, your mind a blur; 
your sense in a stupor, as it were. 

Too late, you left the door unlocked! 
You won’t suspect, and I won’t get caught. 

You think you’re in deep, but your judgment is flawed. 
You fight for your life, and for that I applaud. 

Once I grab hold, try as you might, 
you can’t move a muscle nor terror imply. 

No one can hear you, there’s no place to hide; 
you try to make a break, but I have your limbs all tied. 

Your heart is racing, you’re screaming, no sound. 
Are you suffocating, chest crushed, spellbound? 

I share whispers in kind, shivers down your spine. 
I question your sanity and make your thoughts run blind. 

The end is in sight, dear, I’m your only hope. 
I’ll soon set you free and leave you alone. 

But before I go, just so you know, I’ll leave no mark — presto! 
“No harm, no foul”, so it goes. Until tomorrow, I suppose. 

Who am I?

Answer: Sleep paralysis.