Voyage of the Damned

by Frances White

My father always says: ‘You can’t run from your responsibilities,’ but he lacks imagination. Besides, I’m not running. I’m sidestepping. Crossing the road so me and my responsibilities don’t make eye contact and aren’t forced into awkward small talk both of us know isn’t going anywhere.

If I’m a dumpling, my father is a breadstick.

I file that in my what-the-fuck folder for later contemplation,

‘You see the world in a way nobody else does. You’re better than all of them.’ He rested his forehead against mine, fingers knotting in my tousled hair. ‘Because you don’t need a Blessing to be a miracle.’

I’ll stay here, inside my sugar igloo, until death claims me.

I’m not a miracle. Not even close. But he believed I was.

I nod sagely. ‘If I had to pick someone to be murdered by it would absolutely be her ladyship.’ Grasshopper claps gleefully. ‘I’ll kill Dee if he asks me to!’ Wyatt looks between us, speechless.

‘I saw my first when I was two!’ She holds up two fingers. ‘I poked it with a stick. It went right through the skin!’ She skips away and joins Wyatt. I never thought cute things could also be terrifying until I met that girl.

My heart swells. That’s a good way to categorize the world—to eat or to love. Although sometimes things can be both. I smirk.

I’m not afraid of it because I’m afraid of drowning. I’m afraid that if I go beneath the surface, I won’t want to come back up.

Only a lonely person has a Blessing that allows him to talk to animals.

I hadn’t realized that loyalty did not just mean sending fish and saying prayers. Loyalty also meant hate. Indiscriminate, unquestioning hate.

‘But this is the library.’ As if a library is a portal to another realm where serial killers don’t exist.

‘A moronic genius. The most dangerous of all.’

Why is it that I want women to beat me up and men to gently embrace me?

Grasshopper shuffles forward. ‘Heart-bonded people shouldn’t be apart. Your hearts are meant to be together. Or they’ll get sad, and break.’