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Stone Cold Angel 🪽

He arrived, taking steps up to the statue, kneeling before it as its wings sprawled out across the moonlit sky.

"I killed them," Gabriel started, holding his sword at his side, blood dripping down his face, hair, clothes—it had turned cold from the walk he had to make to get back to this spot, there was a linger of warmth in the blood from his own body heat. He had to get here as fast as he could or the angel wouldn't speak to him. It was almost sunrise and his questions wouldn't be answered when the sky turned from dark to light. "What would you like me to do next?" He asked, looking up towards the all white figure, decorated in moss, showing its age and how lonesome it had been without anyone taking care of the stone.

Put that sword against your chest, and push. It will be done when your heart has been sliced and bled against these steps.

Its words was like the breeze as it glided through the air. Its mouth never opened, it only whispered in his ear with the wind. An enigma grazing his eardrums tenderly, a genderless voice spoke. It's unsaid words always bitter. Especially bitter this time.

"Would you be so kind to say that again?" He insisted, but he already knew what it said. It didn't say anything else since the angel most definitely knew he already understood.

He didn't want to believe it.

Gulping down his nerves, he glanced over to the horizon. The suns golden ray didn't seep into the sky yet, but was close with it turning a lighter blue by the second. "You can't be serious," he muttered under his breath, gripping his sword as he watched the drips of the blood on it dry. "How can I protect my family if I die?!" He yelled, but it seemed the angel wasn't listening as it didn't peep another word. Gabriel stood up. "Answer me damn you!" His voice roared through the mountains.

No answer.

"I'm not doing that, you hear?!" He kicked the stone, doing no harm, but to himself. His boots scuffed the stone, his toes stung at the self inflicted impact. It was all to express his frustration.

You're not doing it? Well…

"I'll do it," a voice said, a clear voice. It wasn't a voice that felt to be from his own head as it barely grasped the surface. This was crisp and tangible, unlike the wisps he regularly heard.

A hand touched he shoulder, he quickly swung around to see the culprit. His stomach dropped at the sight of it. Stepping back at the shock of this sudden appearance. It was a face that grinned wide—too wide—with teeth that was pointed and crooked. It looked old from the amount of wrinkles piled on its face and sag of skin.

"Who the hell are you?" Gabriel asked, armed with his shining red sword in hand, pointing his weapon at the stranger. It only laughed—an indescribable laugh that echoed here, muffled there, too loud, but too quiet, and far, but near. It wasn't anything he had ever heard before.

Was it even…human?

This sound stunned him. It wasn't anything he heard before. It had a power that vibrated throughout Gabriel's body, almost shaking him off his feet. It was as if an earthquake struck. He had to force himself to stand, keeping his pose, ready to battle. As his position weakened, he was grabbed, claws seeping into each shoulder. He, humanly, yelped as any man would when facing such a beast. Red eyes peered into his soul while it's jaw unhinged.

"Get the hell away from me!" Gabriel yelled, striking his sword right into the creature's stomach. It let out a breathless hiss, no blood shed from it.

Was it…demon?

It was certainly ungodly by the sheer power it had, sticking to him as a leech hungry for blood would. The pressure was unbearable as its fingers sinking into his flesh stung like fire. No being was this strong. He had never seen such a horrifying thing in his life! It felt his soul had drained already, frozen cold with fear. It's jaw unlatched, showing the teeth filled maw that was about to devour him.

"God…I am sorry for my sins," Gabriel whispered, closing his eyes. "I only wanted to save my family." Praying his sins away as he was preparing to take his final breath.

It was then the grasp went softer. The burns of claw marks still stung, but the pressure was off. Gabriel opened his eyes to see the beast had disappeared. The suns rays had finally come up from the horizon. There was no evidence of the creature being there—or disintegrating for that matter.

It was only Gabriel now, falling to his feet, covered in the blood of others and now his own as it dripped from the clawed areas.

"I only wanted to save my family," he whispered into the wind, sitting there with a blank stare into the meadows in front of him. No peeps of any living thing, no morning birds, no rabbits rustling bushes, no voice of a stone cold angel coming to give him commands.

Only him now, facing his mistakes of trusting fake angels with unholy plans.

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Writing block has been so killing me <//3 but I hope you guys enjoyed this short piece 🫀🫀🫀

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you don’t have to write something good. you just have to write something unhinged enough to edit later

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Misty 

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Bertha Froriep - "Sleeping Beauty" (1864)

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Bad Habits

Accusations flood the room and hilarity ensues…

My wife sat next to me on my right, Penelope sat on my left and she kept caressing her leg against mine. It was insatiable. I smiled at my wife while my hand touched Penelope’s thigh under the table. It was scandalous, my acts. If the church were to find out I may even be executed, but god, it felt good.

One sat up hastily, it was Damian, champagne glass raised for a toast. His hair was down, in that horrendous hat, but I’d never say anything like that to his face. It’s a thing everyone else knew, but never said. Me and him were on good terms, after the night before. We all turned to hear what he was about to say as he dinged the glass with his fork. He started with clearing his throat. 

“This is a beautiful evening, isn’t it folks?" He started, sweet talking before he got to the point, as he does. He went on thanking our hosts about the dinner we were about to eat, blessing god for the beautiful day—which was so strange from his famous renouncement for religion. He finally got to his point, at this point I was falling asleep from famished fatigue. "I'd like to make an important announcement about two of our dear guests," he said, peering over to me. This woke me up. "Fredrick and Penelope are having an affair!" He pounded his fist on the table with vigor while gasps flood the room, everyone turned towards us.

I was holding her hand so tight under the table, her palm was caught in my hands, a knot that was tangled and unable to unravel. "Why would you say that?" I stuttered tremendously, I wasn't fooling anyone.

"Why would you say such a thing?" My wife jumped in. She was suspicious of him, eyeing him down.

"I saw it with my own eyes, Joanna! Don't you see your husband is a crook?"

It was all unexpected. I couldn't follow the bickering, the moment just hit and I needed to digest it. I only knew it was over for me. Damien had said he'd keep our secret. I was completely fooled by his charming company. That devil whispered his words to me and I trusted them like a fool!

"Fredrick? Fredrick!" Damien demanded for my attention, I couldn't help but snap back to reality when hearing my name mentioned. "You explain yourself, you foil swine!" He slapped the table again, he was exerting so much energy, not only into his actions, but his words. Each word he spewed, so much aggression was expressed, grit following each growl.

"I-I-" I couldn't speak, I was just stuttering like a blundering fool.

"You made that up!" Penelope interrupted.

"I tell only but the truth!"

She laughed at his claim. "You always stir something up! This is clearly Damien causing drama again! I am absolutely offended you'd say such a thing! I love my husband with all my heart," she tried to explain.

"You don't have to love someone to sleep with them," Damien muttered.

Everyone watched them go on and on, back and forth. My wife beside me had tears rolling down her face, makeup falling with it. Shame made a hole in my heart, it nestled comfortably while I felt the cactus prickle of it. It was so hard not to show the pain.

Standing to my feet, in front of everyone who watched this scene, I finally spoke up. "It's true." The room fell silent. No more arguments on whether who is right, no one gossiping with whispers into each others ears, not even a breath let out just to hear what I said. "But, it wasn't just us. Damien had joined us!"

Another gasp erupted, his wife—which I'm surprised he even had one from his antics—had fire blazing from her eyes.

"You, bastard!" His wife yelled, slapping him across the face. Voices rose once again before being shushed.

"Please! Do you have any manners? I have planned this dinner only for you to ruin it! I will not have this! I permit you, Damien, Fredrick, and Penelope, to leave these premises!" Mr. Allard announced.

"He started it!" Penelope pointed her gloved finger at Damien who gave a frustrated grunt.

"Enough! That's enough! Out!"

The butlers had escorted us out, pulling us away from the table. I had to walk away from a table that sat three upset individuals, lovers who were betrayed.

Our affair was only supposed to be a promiscuous secret, something naughty, but exciting. Now there was to be the consequences. We were kicked out now, but what was I to face later?

The fresh breeze hit me once the front doors were opened for our awaited depart, they were slammed once we were out there. Penelope was picking a fight the whole way, arguing with them about how it's not fair.

"It's not fair! Not fair!" She repeated, stomping her foot on the front steps. I only took a seat, sighing as the karma finally came round. There was a moment of silence, maybe for our now dead relationships that may never be repaired again. The wind blew and the leaves whispered as it passed.

"So…would you like to accompany me to my place?" Damien inquired, his eyes staring at the horizon, holding back looking us directly in the eyes.

I looked up at him, ours eyes finally met. I was tired, ready to give up on life. Why would he ask something like that? But…it was a offer I couldn't say no too. "Why not."

Penelope grinned, giggling. She was always so filled with energy. "Shall we?"

"We shall," I agreed, standing up from the steps and continuing our way to our own bad habits once again.

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Another story inspired by my own art! While sketching this all I could imagine was a scene like this and building it as I drew. Couldn’t help but put it on paper!

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Art by Sophie Barocas

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Plz 🙏 I luv hearing from u guys :3

Reblog if you want random asks and you don't care what they're about

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The Guard

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Oh yes it could be. <3

I say, being the writer of this

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Royal Affair

A secret sapphic romance.....

There she ran, late for the ball. In a dress she lifted from the ground, only focused on her way, not seeing what she showed from under her blouse! Bloomers floffing about in the wind as her heeled feet tapped vigorously upon the pavement. Everything was applied messily from her haste, makeup blotchy, wig not tightened on. She wasn't so pretty as sweat poured down her templates, white sheen of a led base coming down with the droplets. Her breath ran with uncontrollable might as she huffed for air with each gasp, lungs tightening against her corset with messily tied laces.

If she only had the time to get ready with ease, applying rouge with care, all while awaiting for her carriage. Instead, prioritizing other things instead, more nefarious deeds that left her wig with tangles and skirt not tightened correctly, layers not put on correctly and some even forgotten so her outfit was unfinished. Though such acts was worth it—in her opinion—it would stain her reputation if it were to get out, or to miss this event. She had already been caught once, if such a scandal went out she'd be ruined. If only she had been there when the carriage arrived, this might've been an easier trip.

Instead of walking down a lush carpet that welcomed her within the ball, aside to her a properly dressed prince, she clumsily trots up the steps as she tries to catch her breath. Each step of the grand staircase was a hassle, but she finally made it to the castle, after being…hours late. To be fashionably late isn't a crime, though when you look as much of a wreck as she did, you can say she didn't show up fashionable. As she climbed the last steps she heard the muffled sound of the orchestra within. It was a sweet melody. Even if she looked to be in shambles, she didn't care, the harmony sang to her, welcoming her in. The euphoria from her rendezvous hadn't worn off, the feeling put a smile upon her face as she faced the guards who guarded the doors. Greeting them with a curtsy didn't earn her the way in, they stopped her before she could even say hello.

"Hey! What's the deal?" Her tone, playful and teasing, but this did set her back and made her look twice at the wield staff blocking her way.

"You do not belong here. Move along, Miss," the guard said under his helmet that fell in front of his face so his voice muffled between the slivered part of the helmet that dress from ear to ear.

"What? I was invited by Lord Mateo himself. I am Madam Elodie! Don't you know who I am?" she shook her head in confusion at the guards who stood at each side of the door, having the power to kick her off these properties if they please.

"I am sure you are very important, but I shall have to ask you to leave," he said, she stomped her foot, mouth opening, ready to spew curses.

"Wait, Wait! She's with me!" A nervous cracking voice said, a prince charming had come to her rescue. He had opened the doors to her, she couldn't help but to give a smug smile at the guards who both turned their heads towards him. You couldn't see their expressions, but you could definitely feel the bewilderment under the silver.

"My prince! How lovely it is to see you!" Elodie embraced him, arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him closer, feeling his warm breath on her neck "Where have you been? I missed you!"

He pulled away. "Where have you been? I have been waiting here this whole night for you! All while looking like a fool with no one to dance with!" He argued, throwing his hands up in anger. All she did was shrug and give a sweet smile and hope he would forgive her.

"Sorry, my love, my dear, my beloved, Lord Mateo, himself!" she put her hands together like a plea, a pretty pout that might win him over. He crinkled his brows and his lip pulled into a strong frown. He sighed, looking away, eyes softened with defeat.

"Fine. Just come inside," he muttered, tension collapsing as he walked inside, her following. Not acceptance, but it works. She immaturely stuck her tongue out at the guards before the doors shut and had entered the fine establishment.

It was grand, the ceiling that stood so high, held a dazzling chandelier with crystals that only intensified the light. Tables were full of treats on the side while butlers ran around with platters of bubbling champagne. The orchestra boomed in grand elegance as the people swayed in flowy ballgowns and fashionable suits to the music. Heads turned towards Elodie as she strode behind Mateo with dirt at the bottom of her dress and tracking mud in with her heels. Mateo looked around at everyone's disgusted faces, becoming more timid as all eyes were on them.

"Come on, let's dance!" Elodie said, grabbing both hands and twirling him which completely startled him. He didn't hate it though. In fact his mood had lightened, he didn't seem to care about the others judgments when his eyes were on her. "Isn't the music wonderful, dear?" she inquired, pulling him in as their feet moved on beat with each shred of the violin's song. A hand made it's way down to his waist, he couldn't help but blush.

"Why…yes. Yes it is." He moved with her, swayed to the same beat, making the same cohesion of steps, heart close to each others.

"How have you been enjoying your time?"

"Better with you here, my love," he said, smiling, his soft eyes staring at her poise lips and up to her eyes, but they didn't stare back at him. Her eyes looked behind him at something else…someone else.

"Yes…yes…" she murmured, only focusing on the thing behind him. When trying to turn his head she slipped her hand onto his cheek and pulled his attention back. "Hold on, love." Her eyes back on him. "I'll be gone for just one moment," she said, slipping the touch between them as she walked away. As she kept her gaze with a sly smile as she left, he looked back dejected, left alone on the ballroom floor now without a partner.

That wasn't her problem. She had more important things to attend to. More important people to talk to. Weaving her way through the many people, she found the one she was looking for, all while leaving the prince she didn't care for back on the ballroom. She might have her fun, but at the end of the day, it wasn't him she wanted.

In the shadows at the wall was a familiar face. She looked at approaching Elodie as if she was waiting—in fact, she probably was.

"What are you doing here?" Elodie asked.

"Here for you," Iris said, taking Elodie's hands and pulling her in close, their lips almost touched, hot breath of each others steaming the cracks of their lips. Breaking the tension, Elodie looked back towards the crowd. They were too hidden for anyone to notice, too crowded for Mateo to see anything. The soft touch of Iris's palm fell down onto Elodie's cheek, pulling her gaze back in.

"How did you get in here?" Elodie asked, her hand touching Iris's. When they touched it was like a magic spark set off, one that she never had with Mateo, one that felt so good. "And may I say…" her hand trailed onto Iris's hip. "You look so good in that dress. Like a angel from heaven blessed you—no. You look like an angel." Both their cheeks flourished with a rosey tint, a warm color that felt hot. Iris giggled, a smile so beautiful it could fill a empty glass full again, have it pouring with sunshine.

"I snuck in here," she whispered in Elodie's ear, she gasped when she heard.

"Did you see what I had to deal with those guards? How come I got hold up and you sneaked your way in here perfectly fine? Seems like those guards aren't doing their jobs properly," she scoffed, crossing her arms. Iris laughed at her hilarity.

"Truly devastating," Iris added, going along with Elodie's dramatics, shaking her head at the misfortune of tonight.

"I know!" Elodie exclaimed, hands in the air just to prove her point. "They should be fired!"

"It seems like it's been stressful." Hands held hers gently as Iris listened to her words.

"Very," Elodie admitted, enjoying the warmth of Iris, not only her touch but her compassion.

Iris whispered in her ear once more, soft words caressing each curve in her ear. It was simply a suggestion, one that was so enticing. To find a more private place to spend some time together. Elodie followed Iris through the crowd, palm in one anothers. Each second they spent together Elodie cherished with her whole being, if she could soak up every single inch of her—from her soft words, to her fingertips, even to bask in her glorious hips—that's all she would want. They were arriving to a doorway before being interrupted.

"Elodie, where are you going?" Mateo asked. "Who's this?" Insinuating Iris. They both turned towards him, taking glances at each other as their little secret is on the verge of escaping.

"My darling!" Elodie said, hugging him once she saw him, her girlfriend wasn't amused by this act of hers, rolling her eyes as she stood there. "This is my dear, dear, dear friend!" Arm stretched out as she presented her prize to her runner up.

"Iris, a pleasure." Dipping down into a bow, a cold stare holding him, it unsettled him.

"Well, darling, we were about to go get some fresh air at the courtyard. Iris wasn't feeling her best." Iris acted along, the back of her palm placed against her forehead, a big frown. "We have to go," Elodie said, breaking this hug and catching Iris's hand as they went through the doorway together. "Bye!" She waved behind at him while leaving in a haste.

"Oh…okay." Mateo stuttered, going the other way while slouching in a dejected sluggish manner.

Elodie was happy, felt free with Iris by her side. The wind caught in their hair as they stepped outside where it was a cool night, stars shining above them. The music inside now muffled through the doors. It was only them now. Sitting on a bench together, relaxing, Elodie put her head on Iris's shoulder.

"Why do you have to do that?" Iris asked.

"Do what?"

"That act you do. I know it's important to keep your relationship with him, I get it. But, do you?"

"It's fun to play around, isn't it?" Elodie giggled, her fingers pulling through Iris's dark hair that blended with the night so gracefully, like a queen of the dark. Their eyes met and Elodie quickly understood her lover didn't find that funny. "I'm sorry…"

"No…it's fine. It's just—just I don't know how to feel when you tell me I'm your only one, then go to him saying 'darling! Darling! Oh my love!'" She made a exaggerated impression which made Elodie raise an eyebrow, maybe even smile a little, but she wouldn't admit it got her.

"I get that. I just want him to believe that. You know, I have to be with him, for the image and such, especially the financial gain."

"But do you have to be with him? You're mine!" Iris started to cry, Elodie sat up to look at her directly so she should wipe away her tears.

"You're right…You're so right," Elodie admitted, kissing her cheek, each tear embraced the soft and thin lips. Wrapping arms tight around Iris, keeping her warm in the cool breeze of the night. "What would you like me to do, darling?"

"I would like you to break up with him…but I know that's not happening anytime soon," she sniffled, softly speaking into Elodie's ear with a pout. "At least stop calling him those names." There was a silence that overcome this moment, you could only hear the crickets chirping along with the band inside. Their foreheads kissed as they leaned onto each other, Elodie was playing with her hair, caressing fingers through carefully. Suddenly, she pulled back, their embrace dislodged.

"I will break up with him," Elodie said seriously, no teasing attitude, holding her hands in Iris's.

"But you can't! Who knows what the royal court will-"

"It's fine. I'll deal with it. As long as you're safe, that's all I could ask for."

"And you? Will you be safe?" Iris was practically pleading for her not to finalize on this risky decision, but Elodie had made her choice.

"I'll be fine. Our love is greater," Elodie assured, coming closer so their lips pressed against each other. That sweet magic spark came over them.

Iris was all Elodie cared about. If she made the Royal's look like fools it could be the end to her, naturally as a woman, one who is told to obey and never rebel. Elodie never liked rules, this rule was worth it to break. It didn't matter if she got the guillotine for saying "no," what mattered is that she was happy. It would be a sacrifice for love. If she could marry her instead of Prince Mateo, she would. Even if these choices were finalized, that didn't stop her from using her free will to stand up against the ones trying to tether her down.

Mateo was nice, but he was alright. He didn't stand out to Elodie, but whatever the rich spoiled brat ones, he'll get—but Elodie isn't some presented puppy for the family to adopt, she's a human being who deserves her own love and not some one sided relationship. She especially wasn't the woman to bow to some insecure mouse who flinched at the any sudden sound. Do not let his meek attitude fool you, once he tells his parents, they'll be sweeping the garbage—or more realistically, the blood that drains from your decapitated head after it's been cut off, except it wouldn't be them sweeping, it'd be their servants.

How her love felt, it was extravagant. She couldn't help but taste it whenever she could, before the party, during, and maybe even after. Her lover seemed to feel the same, if she did such a thing as to sneak her way in here.

They were together, feeling each other's embrace, lips couldn't get enough bites, only to go back for more.

Except it wasn't only them.

"Elodie?" A man's voice said from the door. They didn't realize the music intensifying when the doors swung open, they were too focused on each other. This definitely caught Elodie's attention, not only hearing her name, but her name being said by her own princely fiance.

He had seen what they were doing, what they had done. This act of adultery will surely get them killed. All of them looked at one another, shocked and defeated.

"Guards!" He yelled, running back into the palace.

"Come on!" Iris demanded, grabbing Elodie's hand to make a grand escape, there was no choice but to come with. After this moment on it's either stay a runaway or die.

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I hope you enjoyed this short story! I will note I am a woman that doesn’t identify as sapphic so if there are any offensive stereotypes or things I did wrong let me know!!! I would happily change it for the sake of representing the lesbian community right.

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Also fun fact! This piece of fiction was inspired by a doodle I did. (Do not mind our favorite conjoined twins at the bottom).

Of course it’s not exactly made from it, especially her breasts not popping out—though, I never did describe that so imagine whatever you’d like. But this was the inspiration of this and how it started out!

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Franz Kafka, 1912

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On the Sailing Boat (1818-20) by Caspar David Friedrich

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Here’s some illustrations I did of my last short stories!!!

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Ava & Emma

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GOREY VISUALS BELOW!

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Down with the King

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The Garden Of Memory

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Ava & Emma

A story about conjoined twins…

"They will not live long."

"Is there anything you can do, doctor?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Then I will give them the life they deserve, even if it's short lived."

That's what our mother said to the doctor when we were born. He expected us to not even last a month, but here we are, a hundred-ninety-two months later! Sixteen years we have lasted alive; surviving being attached to each other. There are difficulties like having no privacy and such. It's not fun having a person stuck to you your whole life, especially when you disagree. We cannot go our separate ways after an argument, hang out with different people, and have bodies of our own. Not to mention people look at us weirdly on the street. People ask us if we're apart of the freak show. We may be freaks, but not a show for all to gather and pity us for our misfortune. Except, we aren't a misfortune. At least that's what I think. We most certainly live better than them since they feel the need to judge us to entertain their boring lives. We are normal people, just conjoined.

We met a girl named Daphne, who's smile was as sweet as sugar. I certainly liked her, but Emma, my twin, had some opinions. "She's strange," she said, like we aren't the strange ones. "I didn't like the way she looked at us."

"Like the way everyone does?" I responded, biting into a crisp apple, the taste was so sweet and the slightest bit tart. It was refreshing on a spring day like this where the sun was out.

"No, she looked at us differently than that," Emma said, looking out at the landscape in front of us. We were where we usually were on a day like this. On the bench that sat in front of the lake. Sometimes we may sit at the edge and dip our legs—which we share—into the water and let the fish swim past, but that was only sometimes.

"Then like what?" I asked, my mouth full of apple.

"Like…hm…It's hard to explain."

"Well, in my opinion, I thought she was quite understanding."

"You think?"

"I do," I assured, smiling, before Emma took my apple.

"Hey! That was mine!"

"We share the same stomach, it'll go to the same place anyway."

"I guess you're right."

"That girl, Daphne," she went on. "She seemed…nice." She sounded unsure, then biting into the apple that was "going to the same place."

"She sure was!"

"But," she said, apple full mouth.

"But?"

"She could be faking it. Sure, she acted very nicely and even asked us to come over, but do we really know her intentions?" she proposed, handing the apple back.

"It all felt genuine."

"She could be a good actor."

"You may be right, but she could be honest."

"Could be," Emma said, skeptical, glancing with eyes that said "are you sure?" In which, yes, I was very sure.

It had always been like this. Emma being the pessimist thinking about all the disaster that could strike, and me being optimistic and arguing about where the sun shone. Always back and forth. Even if it was annoying, I wouldn't have it any other way. Being this way made us balanced, we saw it from all angles as we talked it out. We always came to an agreement—most of the time. Opinions like what we like better never die, maybe this bickering is just something to keep each other entertained as the years go by. Some people suffer in loneliness, I never get to be alone.

As we do—most of the time—we came to an agreement. Since Daphne invited us over for brunch, why would we say no? This doesn't happen often. If it does happen it's a party for the host to say "look what odyssey I have found!" Like we are some sort of freak show. As I already explained, we are not that. It hurts when people get close just for it to be found out the love wasn't real. Why Emma can be so protecting of letting new people in. As weird as we are, two is better than one. At least that's what they say, yet it seems they can't take us as a pair.

The next day, we arrived at her door holding a box of cookies in our hands, homemade by our mother. She never let us down, meaning somebody could love us. After we knocked on the door she opened it with a big smile.

"Ava and Emma! You're here!" She exclaimed, "come inside! It's so good to see you." The inside in question leaked the smell of pastries and cinnamon. She was dressed in a lovely gown going down to her feet.

"Thank you for welcoming us," I said. Emma was quiet. "These are for you." I held out the box which was nicely wrapped in twine.

"Oh, goodie! what is it?" she asked, taking it from our hands.

"Cookies," I answered, along with greeting smile as Emma only stared. She had to make our already unsettling appearance even more unsettling with that weary glare. I pressed my head against hers, if I could hold her hand I would, but those hands are also my hands. It was a hand hold to us, close enough, as it's the only part that was rightfully ours—the head.

"Wow!" she said, opening the box to see them inside. "These look delicious! Did you guys make them?"

It was strange hearing someone say "you guys" instead of just "you." Don't get me wrong, it was pleasant, she actually acknowledged both our presences. Most people just say "you" since it's built into their vocabulary. The regular person isn't used to referring one body with two heads. You'd think it'd be like referring a regular pair of twins, but regular twins aren't stuck together. Twins usually have their own bodies to do different things with. As she acknowledged we are two and not one, I saw Emma ease a little. At this point I had faith in this relationship.

"Our mother made them," Emma spoke up, she was quiet, clearly nervous.

"That's awesome! Please, please, come inside."

We followed her in, she so happily welcomed us. It was a quaint but lovely house. We followed her down a narrow hallway with walls full of family photos, nothing out of the ordinary. Emma then whispered quietly in my ear.

"Why does she walk like that?" I didn't notice she had a limp until Emma pointed it out.

"Maybe people with one head have more trouble getting used to two," I whispered back, joking to lighten the mood.

We were led to a small circular table that was adorned with multiple food items waiting for us. Small cucumber sandwiches, scones, as well as bowls of different berries. It was a feast for a king, I certainly felt spoiled.

"Have as much as you'd like," Daphne said, setting our cookies down on a platter, she placed them with delicacy as she organized them in a pattern. "Would you like any tea? We have so many kinds." As she said that she stopped what she was doing to open a cupboard. "Here's all the tea, feel free to choose whatever you guys want, I'll get the tea pot ready once you're done," she informed, setting the platter of cookies down.

"You're too nice!" I complimented.

"Oh, please, you guys are guests. Make yourself comfortable," Daphne said.

I looked at Emma, who was still shy, but I could tell was warming up. Nodding towards the tea cabinet to indicate going over there to check it, and she nodded back. We walked towards it and peaked inside, there truly was many kind in here.

"You weren't kidding when you said you had a lot," I said, chuckling at the shear amount I saw. There was containers piled on top of each other from them not being able to fit any other way.

"My mom likes tea, has an interest in it, so she buys all the good stuff," she explained, getting a kettle ready on the stove as we rummaged through the cabinet, pulling out earl grey, green tea, peppermint, chamomile, to reach the back where more hid.

"What's this one?" I asked, taking out one that was unlabeled.

"That's one I made," she answered, a prideful cheek pinching smile peeking out.

"You made this? Well, how nice is that." I looked at Emma, showing the container to her, she raised her eyebrows seeming to be impressed.

"It's a blend of rose petals, orange peals, blackberries, and peppermint."

"That sounds lovely."

"Sounds delicious," Emma adds quietly.

"It's alright," Daphne said, reaching within the cupboard to grab another. "But this is my favorite." Showing us the container and pointing out each ingredient. "It's main component is licorice root, so if you guys like licorice, this might be good for you guys."

"That sounds interesting, I've never had licorice within my tea. Maybe with it, but not in it." I looked towards Emma, who seemed intrigued. "I do like licorice, though."

She nodded. "Licorice isn't bad. Sounds good," she agreed. It's a treat we often enjoy. At our spot by the water we share a whole bag we got from the candy store down the road. It brings good memories.

"Perfect! I'll get it steeping then." Daphne took the teapot, which was decorated in beautiful floral designs, and took care of that. The kettle whistled abruptly after, perfect timing, and she poured the water in. "You guys have some good taste."

We enjoyed each others time after that. Sitting and chatting, many laughs followed after jokes—not just chuckles, but hearty laughs. Emma's shyness even fell off as the conversation went on. The food set out was so perfect, the cucumber sandwiches stuffed with cream cheese was so creamy and simple, but charming even if it wasn't much. The sun, that was so high before, was setting upon the horizon. This took a little while for us to notice from us having so much fun. It was Daphne who pointed it out.

"Gosh! It's getting late," she interrupted, glancing out the window. "I'm sorry to keep you here so late." At this point the plates before that was packed full of treats only had crumbs to spare, all of our tea was sipped, even the refills.

"Don't apologize, we were having fun," I responded.

"It is turning dark though…" Emma pointed out, also taking a peek at the fading sky outside.

"Let me show you to the door then." Daphne pushed her chair out and came up from it, we followed her way. Back out into the hall to the entrance. I caught Emma looking upon her foot.

"Hey, Daphne," Emma spoke, we were basically at the door at this point. She looked around at us at her name being called.

"Hm?" she responded with, waiting for Emma.

"Why do you have a limp?" she finally asked. I bite my tongue from her forwardness. You don't just ask people why they are the way they are, but here we are.

All Daphne did was smile and raise her dress for us to see what it was that caused this uneven walking. It wasn't as unusual as us, but definitely not common.

"A prosthetic leg?" Emma said, and Daphne nodded her head. It gave us both a shock from not expecting such a thing.

"What do you have that from?" I asked.

"From birth. I never had two legs," Daphne answered, looking back at our curious faces.

"Just like how we never had one head," I said, shrugging, with a smile, as it all came full circle.

"Or our own bodies for that matter. How I'd wish to detach from this lady." Emma looked at me, teasing, though at times it was true. We both knew it was true from the fights we've had about it before. I stuck my tongue out at her for this comment anyway. Daphne nodded her head to our comments, giggling at our snarkiness towards each other.

"Exactly," Daphne said, letting go of her dress so it'd fall back to her ankles. "When I saw you two…It made me feel less lonely. I know we are very different, but we are both still out of the ordinary. It's so nice—comforting—to find people like me. Born deformed."

We both were caught by her words, our heart—or at least how ours felt to me at the moment—felt tugged by this genuine compassion. And she was right, it is nice to know you're not the only one who's born different. I think we all make a good match together as well. The one legged girl, and the conjoined twins. That'd make a fabulous newspaper headliner. Though, it's not about the attention. It's about being seen by someone. Not to just be looked at, but to understand one another.

After this day, it wasn't just us at the bench anymore. Our four eyes now became six gazing across the lake, watching the waters turn golden as the sun fell. Eating our licorice we bought from the candy store down the street, sharing it between us. It wasn't just our snack going into our shared stomach, but going to another as well. We also laughed. Laughed, and laughed, and laughed our heads off! We had so much fun, the people who passed probably thought we were crazy from how loud our ideas came out, how passionate we were about them, and how funny we thought we were.

It was not only Ava and Emma, but Ava, Emma, and Daphne. Our friend who never looked at us funny, never double crossed us, but only made us feel safer in this cruel world. We were free to be god's misshapen accidents together.

🫀

[fancy-1ucky-star]

You don’t have to be a perfect writer to start writing. The more you write, the better you become.