Katherine Frances's Blog, page 14
September 2, 2018
"Lady, i will touch you with my mind.
Touch you and touch and touch
until you give
me suddenly a..."
Lady, i will touch you with my mind.
Touch you and touch and touch
until you give
me suddenly a smile,shyly obscene
(lady i will
touch you with my mind.) Touch
you,that is all,
lightly and you utterly will become
with infinite care
the poem which i do not write.
”- e.e. cummings, xvii.
(via wnq-writers)
"I am pretending you did not exist.
Ink nightly washes black
over my consciousness
and abandons me as..."
I am pretending you did not exist.
Ink nightly washes black
over my consciousness
and abandons me as morning seaweed
upon a foreign beach.
I am pretending we were simply
the sparkling imagination of some higher being,
our life together set below a singular epic sky
unrepeated
in future histories.
I am pretending I cannot taste you
each day as I do the sea air in my breath
when I am running,
my heart tied upon one foot,
ancient melancholy tied upon the other,
anxiously racing,
madly racing through lifetimes,
to find our brightened souls.
I see you in colors that don’t exist.
It is all that I see clearly.
and why I run.
-
Matsumoto, Paul. I See You in Colors.
(via wnq-writers)
"Ever since then the seas have been restless, and the wind blows from the direction of the ocean."
- Franz Xaver Von Schonwerth, from “Sir Wind and His Wife” in The Turnip Princess and Other Newly Discovered Fairy Tales, trans. Maria Tatar (via the-final-sentence)
"When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to..."
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?”
- The Tiger by William Blake
September 1, 2018
Kim Shimmers and the Deathly Hallows
A Harry Potter fanfic by me (and the 5th, final installment in the Kim Shimmers series)
She was like Voldemort in at least one way. They were both of the same make now.
Dead,
alive, the two of them were some cross between. Perhaps he had even felt it in
her.
This Harry Potter fan fiction (as long as all goes according to plan) will be posted by the beginning of every week. The pictures above are not mine, though I edited some.
Chapter 5
Unmeasurable
In the following silence Kim could hear nothing over the crashing of her heart in her ears. She clutched her stomach and bent at the waist, breathing in heavy to try and control herself. I’m okay. I’m okay. Voldemort is gone. For now…
We need to get out of here.
Her eyes snapped open again and she staggered forward. She could now hear the sounds of a sloppy approach, more than one pair of feet, and neither of them very graceful.
“George!” Kim breathed as Lupin came stumbling into the clearing with a broom in hand and George, in his true form, hung over his shoulder. “Is he all right?” Then he tilted into the moonlight. Kim didn’t gasp, because she couldn’t breath. George’s head was hung, slumped to the side, and appeared to be wholly supported by Lupin. The side of his head was covered in a shiny dark liquid. It coated his hair, dripping down his neck, blossoming in his shirt.
“Take my arm,” panted Lupin. “We need to get him back. We’re far enough from any underage that there won’t be a trace, so there’s no point in trying to catch the port key. We’ll apparate.”
“Can you take the both of us?” Kim asked, grabbing his arm. He didn’t answer, but rather sucked them all away into black abyss and then popped back into existence, feet pressed against long, bent grass and soft, moist earth.
Harry and Ginny were there, running over to them, and Mrs. Weasly was just behind them.
“Harry, thank god you’re all right,” Kim breathed as Harry rushed forward and lifted George’s legs, helping Lupin to carry him into the house. They moved him through the kitchen and into the sitting room, laying him on the sofa. With the light of indoors the blood was vibrantly red, and it was clear that George was barely hanging on to consciousness. She bent down by his side as Mrs. Weasley hurried over with a box of herbs.
Kim put a hand on his chest and nudged him gently. She needed to know that he was alive at least. His eyes opened a sliver and his gaze drifted to her lazily. “Hey,” she smiled, relief billowing out with her breath. She petted the side of his head that wasn’t covered in blood, shifting his hair to the side.
“You’re all right,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” she said in the same gentle voice as before, a breathy high sound. “I’m all right. Thanks to you.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, putting his hand over hers, clasping it against his chest where it still lie. He must’ve seen it on her face; the painful guilt, the terrible feeling of uselessness. He was in the state he was in because he’d come back for her.
“I’d do it again,” he muttered. “I already lost you once and I can’t… again…”
Kim’s face grew very hot as his eyes rolled back under his closing eyelids. Her heart raced. She glanced up at Mrs. Weasley, both afraid and embarrassed for all that was happening. She didn’t seem to notice, but Ginny looked at Kim in an unreadable way. There was a ruckus going on in the kitchen, and suddenly Kim felt she should leave George in the capable hands of his family and move herself out of the possibly wary gaze of Ginny.
“I’m sorry, Harry, but I had to check,” Lupin was saying to Harry tersely. The collar of Harry’s shirt was bunched, so he yanked on the hem, resituating himself a bit hotly as Lupin continued. “We’ve been betrayed. Voldemort knew that you were being moved tonight and the only people who could have told him were directly involved in the plan. You might have been an impostor.”
“So why aren’ you checkin’ me?” panted Hagrid. He was so large it was a miracle he fit inside the kitchen at all.
“You’re half-giant,” said Lupin, looking up at Hagrid. “The Polyjuice Potion is designed for human use only.”
“Where’s Fred?” Kim interrupted. Worry worked its way into her words. Harry just looked at her.
“He hasn’t come back yet,” he said.
“Shouldn’t he be back by now?”
Harry’s silence was answer enough.
avi-burton-writing:
bae-in-maine:
justluckyiguess:
sapphicauthor:
sapphicauthor:
avi-burton-wr...
hey, writers who aren’t jewish or rroma! if you’re going to use the Holocaust in your writing in any way, shape, or form (setting, imagery, simile, etc.), consider this:
don’t.
putting this here because although i hope none of you would do this honestly nothing suprises me anymore. just don’t.
@rose-in-a-fisted-glove uh can you maybe not use the word collaborators when you mean “people who orchestrated and committed a genocide”
it’s really gross. this isn’t “people working on a fun project together” this is a horrific thing that happened that many many Germans were an active or passive part of.
@sapphicauthor I would pose a question. Nazis Imprisoned both Catholics and Homosexuals, and are often points of view left out. What about them?
Telling someone that they can’t write about a historical event, because they or their ancestors weren’t part of the historical event is absolute bullshit.
Authors and other artists do this all the time, and most manage to do it well. While I agree it is wrong for someone of privilege to talk over a minority about something that directly impacts the minority, that isn’t the same as saying that you can’t write about the Holocaust because you aren’t Jewish or about slavery because you aren’t Black, or any other historical event.
see, @bae-in-maine, your reply is an excellent example of my point. people who aren’t jewish or rromani shouldn’t write about the Holocaust because to you guys it’s just a “historical event” while to us it’s a complex multigenerational trauma, not to mention a literal slaughter. you don’t and will never have or understand the perspective on it that we do, and while that’s fine, it’s not right imo to pretend that it’s all the same.
you are a person of privilege talking over a minority (that’s me, a jewish person. hi) about something that directly impacts the minority. (it was less than a hundred years ago, by the way. my great-aunts and uncles were killed, by the way. people still use the Shoah to invalidate Jews and perpetuate antisemitism, by the way.)
it’s not “gatekeeping”, it’s being respectful of other culture’s trauma.
I’m interested to understand; how is writing during a certain time period or during a historical event such as WWII or the Holocaust talking over a minority? I can see how there are certainly ways of exploiting this narrative, like writing from the perspective of a person in an internment camp and having that just be, I don’t know, background to the actual story. I can definitely see how that would be not okay. I can definitely understand if someone were to write a book with a story like Night by Elie Wiesel only they were never there and they just made it up, that would be down right f’ed up.
But are you also saying that any writing that takes place during the 30s and 40s in an effected area (America, Europe, ect.) is also off limits in your opinion? Because it would be very difficult to write about a 1930s Frenchmen and not ever mention WWII or the holocaust. It wouldn’t make sense to write from the perspective of an American soldier in WWII who fought in Europe and never mention the holocaust. While all of these perspectives need to be treated carefully and with mindfulness towards those that the holocaust affected, would you say they are completely off limits because they have something to do with the holocaust?
