The Moon Singing On Homely Nights
The Moon Singing on Homely Nights
The moon sings softly on the nights Esther climbs in through her brother’s window. These nights turn sparser as Amador stays in his new apartment across the country. During these nights, her heart beats in a lulled pace while she sits on his empty bed.
There’s a soft click as she unlatches the window and when she crawls in, she makes sure to land on her toes. She finds more than just her older brother. She doesn’t know what she’ll see or what she hopes to see. When she’d last seen him, he’d slammed the door, tears streaking down his face and voice hoarse from screaming. She still doesn’t have the full pieces from the fight that led to her father’s roaring voice startling their home into silence and the unusual pitch of Amador’s voice as he walked out the door.
She opens his bedroom door to see if he is in the living room or spending his time in a library. She hopes he’s found a library he likes here despite all that has transpired.
Amador’s head is lolled on the couch, his mouth parted and dead to the world. His body is slightly tilted with one arm around his childhood friend, Maya’s sleeping form who was hugging her brother’s waist. The ugly green blanket Esther had gifted him as a joke is bunch around their feet as if kicked. There’s Snakes n Ladders, playing cards, and Candyland strewn across the table.
Maya had always filled Amador’s head with ideas—little fantasies that didn’t include Esther most likely that he could escape into. Frowning, she steps forward, fully planning to yank the woman out but the floor creaks loudly under her feet. They both jolt open, Amador’s shaking his head and Maya drags her hands across her face to remove her hair from her mouth, scrunching her face.
When Amador turns around to face the source of the sound, he finds her face and gives a dopey smile. ‘Hey, you’re home. When d’you come here?’
This is the first time she heard him call this place home, and a little piece of Esther’s heart cracks as if he’s renouncing the family home. Something vicious crawls onto Esther’s tongue as she bites out, ‘Thought you’d know that you’ve not succeeded in getting rid of me yet.’
Milas flinches as hurt flashes across his face, and in an instant, Maya grips his arm. Esther can never guess how Maya knows that while still keeping her piercing gaze fixed on her.
‘I don’t want to get rid of you,’ Amador says in confusion before letting out a shaky laugh, ‘no matter how annoying you are, you little rugrat.’
Esther should ideally know that. She doesn’t have the full pieces of the fight he had with mom and dad, or the unfamiliar way he’s glancing at Esther, still wary but now distant. Even in the moonlight, she can see the color back on his face, the surety of his movements as he tidies up the table and the blanket to give Esther a place to sit.
When Maya flicks on the floor lamp in the corner, his eyes crinkle at Esther and he pats the seat next to him. His cheeks are no longer sallow, his face no longer as pale as Esther, and he no longer sways in a way that makes Esther worry that a faint breeze could have knocked the husk of a rock her brother used to be.
Her brother had been wasting away for months, and Esther had not noticed.
From the corner of her eyes, Maya walks in with two plates balanced in a tray and slides the biggest portion of what looks like heated leftover lasagna to her brother, glancing warily, as she reminds him, ‘You’d promised you’d eat tomorrow nine hours ago. It’s 12:03. Eat up.’
She offers another to Esther as she leisurely nibbles on peanuts to keep her brother company. Her brother makes a little face at the size, and Maya produces a bar of chocolate in her fingers seemingly out of thin air as a bribe and chews obnoxiously loud until he drops it. He slouches to rest his head on Maya’s shoulders in acquiesce like Esther had seen him do a thousand times since she could remember, and the woefully domestic scene sours her heart.
Her plate remains untouched and she nods her head in gratitude for the food and the company. She makes excuses poorly at best and outlandish at worst, and walks out the door.
One day, she would know the words of the fight and Amador’s dreams if he’d let her, but for now, she takes the earliest train home. As she looks through the window, she sees her mother’s eyes with dark circles underneath. They both have her eyes, but this new Amador’s eyes gleam bright enough to quiet the moon.
More Posts from Ajkiranwrites and Others
What's really in that witch's cauldron?
Folk names for herbs
Ass' Ear- Comfrey
Bat's Wing- Holly Leaves
Beard Of Monk- Chicory
Bear's Foot- Lady's Mantle
Bird's Eye- Germander or Speedwell
Blind Eyes- Poppy
Blood From a Head- Lupine
Blood Of Ares- Purslane
Blood Of Hestia- Chamomile
Bloody Fingers- Foxglove
Calf's Snout- Snapdragon
Cat's Foot- Ground Ivy
Crow's Foot- Wood Anemone
Devil's Ear- Jack In The Pulpit
Devil's Plaything- Yarrow
Dew Of the Sea- Rosemary
Dog's Mouth- Snapdragon
Dragon's Teeth- Vervain
Elf Leaf- Lavender
Englishman's Foot- Common Plantain
Fairy Eggs- Nutmeg
Flower Of Death- Vinca
Goose Tongue- Lemon Balm
Graveyard Dust- Mullein
Hawk's Heart- Wormwood
Juno's Tears- Vervain
Jupiter's Beard- Sempervivums
Lion's Foot- Lady's Mantle
Little Faces- Viola
Man's Bile- Turnip Sap
Mortification Root- Rose of Sharyn
Nose Of Turtle- Turtlehead, Chelone
Nosebleed- Yarrow
Our Lady's Tears- Lily Of The Valley
Old Man's Flannel- Mullein
Ram's Head- Valerian
Scale Of Dragon- Tarragon
Semen Of Ares- White Clover
Semen Of Hermes- Dill
Serpent's Tongue- Dog's Tooth Violet
Sparrow's Tongue- Knotweed
Tree Of Doom- Elder
Unicorn Root- Boneset
Weasel Snout- Yellow Archangel
Wool Of Bat- Moss
Body Parts as Plants:
Eye- Blossom or Seed
Heart- Bud or Seed
Beak, Bill or Nose- Seed, Bud or Bloom
Tongue or Teeth- Petal or Leaf
Head- Blossom
Tail- Stem
Hair- Dried Herbs or Stringy Parts Of Herbs
Privates, Genitals Or Semen- Seeds Or Sap
Blood- Sap
Guts- Roots or Stalk
Paw, Foot, Leg, Wing or Toe- Leaves
Animals as Plants:
Toad- Sage
Cat- Catmint
Dog- Grasses, Specifically Couchgrass
Frog- Cinquefoil
Eagle- Wild Garlic
Blue Jay- Laurel
Hawk- Hawkweed
Lamb-Wild Lettuce
Nightengale- Hops
Rat- Valerian
Weasel- Rue
Woodpecker- Peony
I borrowed this from:
Pin for survivors
reblog this if your blog is a safe space on april fools and won’t have any jumpers, screamers, or anything scary or anxiety inducing
Please don't skip my message 🍉🇵🇸 to our honorable people in the world My name is Abdul Rahman from Gaza.. I lost everything in life.. My wife was martyred and my child and I were injured by a missile that fell on us.. My life was completely destroyed and I was severely injured all over my body especially my legs.. The missile tore my wife apart while she was carrying our child.. I ask for your support to start my life anew and overcome the tragedy I am going through.. Please help me with any amount no matter how small to treat my injury and my child's injury and get out of the Gaza Strip and start a better life.. And spread my campaign and my story so that everyone can see it 🍉🍉🇵🇸🇵🇸
Vetted by 90-ghost
https://gofund.me/c810ba27
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My Dear Friend 🌹
This is my mother preparing bread despite the war and bombing everywhere 😔💔
I hope you can help me, I want her to be fine 😔
Thank you very much my friends🙏🙏
https://www.tumblr.com/ahmedziaad?source=share
Everyone please help if you can!
- Silas Denver Melvin @sweatermuppet, Grit Poetry Collection
ok im going to #seriouspost for a second here. I don't think Harry Potter is a manifesto. I think it was a flawed passion project that millennials latched onto because of the fantasy of sticking it to their mean teachers and arbitrarily categorizing themselves (hogwarts houses; it's the thinking millennial's astrology). I think the fact that the series got popular when and how it did was very much a product of its time.
I don't think Harry Potter is the biggest symbol of JKR's bigotry. I think the most flagrant sign of that was how she responded to critics. I watched her become radicalized in real time. I watched how she doubled down on her racism when she was called out for the ways she promoted her tragically mid fantastic beasts movies. I watched her chase marginalized teenagers with a double digit follower count off of twitter for daring to criticize her thought process, and no one with any kind of power standing against her because she was the one who was paying them. This isn't to say Harry Potter is without flaws. This is to say she really didn't give a shit about that. Getting rich and powerful is a hell of a drug, and she had enough sycophants that she had no reason to care about what her critics were saying.
She was convinced that she was a martyr; a voice for the unheard; a leader for the ages, so of course her detractors were the bad guys. And I think we should take this to heart. We should see this as an example of how easy it is to get radicalized; if you think of yourself as a paragon of virtue, you are going to think that whatever you see as good and right is an objective fact. Most people don't know this, but the majority of terfs start out as trans allies. You are not immune to propaganda! You are not immune to falling into dangerous ideologies!!!
This is why the most important thing you can do as an activist is to listen. Do NOT think you're above being wrong; do NOT develop a god complex; do NOT form an identity out of being right all the time. Involve yourselves in the groups you claim to speak for. Listen to trans women; share resources that help trans women; familiarize yourself with the diversity of experiences that trans people have and the struggles they face.
No, none of you are as bad as JKR because you don't have her money or her power. You will likely never have the capacity for harm she does. But check yourselves. Do not affirm yourselves into thinking you always have the moral high ground. Watch yourselves; humble yourselves; check yourselves for signs of cult behavior and internalized prejudice. You are always learning. You will always be learning. Do not allow yourselves to get a power trip from brushing off marginalized voices.
This from In Writing, a collection of writers reflecting on practice, really resonated with me.
Making Fight Scenes Sound Nicer
Euphonics is all about how the words "feel". By incorporating certain sounds, you can influence the mood of the passage.
Mood: Foreboding
use words with 'ow', 'oh', 'ou', 'oo' sonds. These are good for building tension before the fight.
moor, growl, slow, wound, soon, show, show, grow, tow, loom, howl, cower, mound.
Mood: Spooky
use words with 's' sounds, combined with an 'i' sound.
hiss, sizzle, crisp, sister, whisper, sinister, glisten, stick.
Mood: Acute Fear
use word with 'ee/ea' sounds, with a few 's' sounds.
squeal, scream, squeeze, creak, steal, fear, clear, sheer, stream
Mood: Fighting Action
use short words iwth 't', 'p' and 'k' sounds.
cut, block, top, shoot, tackle, trick, kick, grip, grab, grope, punch, drop, pound, poke, cop, chop.
Mood: Speed
use short words with 'r' sounds
run, race, riot, rage, red, roll, rip, hurry, thrust, scurry, ring, crack
Mood: Trouble
use words with 'tr' sounds to signal trouble
trouble, trap, trip, trough, treat, trick, treasure, atroscious, attract, petrol, trance, try, traitor
Mood: Macho Power
If you wan to emphasize the fighters' masculinity, use 'p' sounds.
pole, power, police, cop, pry, pile, post, prong, push, pass, punch, crop, crap, trap, pack, point, part
Mood: Punishment
If your fight involves an element of punishment use 'str' sounds
strict, astride, strike, stripe, stray, strident, stroke, strip, instruct, castrate strive
Mood: Defeat
use 'd' sonds
despari, depressed, dump, dig, dank, damp, darkness, drag, ditch, drop, dead, deep, dark, dull
Mood: Victory
use 'j' and 'ch' sounds
joy, cheer, jubilant, jeer, chuck, chariot, choose, chip, jest, jamboree, jig, jazz, jive, rejoice, rejoin
In print, the effectiveness of such euphonics will be very subtle, and it can only serve as an embellishment to what you already have.
Don't use or replace words for the sake of achieving euphonic effects, but this can be something to keep in mind when you are editing your draft!
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How a Character’s Anger Can Show Up Quietly
Anger doesn’t always slam doors. Sometimes it simmers. Sometimes it cuts.
╰ They go still. Not calm... still. Like something is pulling tight inside them.
╰ They smile, but their eyes? Cold. Flat. Done.
╰ Their voice gets quieter, not louder. Controlled. Measured. Weaponized.
╰ They ask questions they already know the answers to, just to watch someone squirm.
╰ Their words are clipped. Polite. But razor-sharp.
╰ They laugh once. Without humor. You know the one.
╰ They leave the room without explanation, and when they come back? Different energy. Ice where fire was.
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