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"description": "Submission for Writer's Crossing prompts.\n\nPrompt: It's easy to write what you know, but writing what is impossible or inaccessible to us is more commonplace. Instead of delving into fantasy or made up worlds, try to describe what you think something feels like when you yourself haven’t experienced it. Examples being that you don’t live somewhere with snow, or a place with one consistent language, or a city with any wide open spaces to gander at. \n\nWritten by Seekyr.",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "Submission for Writer's Crossing prompts.
Prompt: It's easy to write what you know, but writing what is impossible or inaccessible to us is more commonplace. Instead of delving into fantasy or made up worlds, try to describe what you think something feels like when you yourself haven’t experienced it. Examples being that you don’t live somewhere with snow, or a place with one consistent language, or a city with any wide open spaces to gander at.
Written by Seekyr.",
"writing": "They never mentioned how cold it would get – how the sheer lack of\nheat would pervade my everything – and I guess that that’s not terrible; it\njust seems like more cheating: Yet another bit that girls everywhere might\nrevolt against if they were told the truth. No one’s lied to me, they just\nhaven’t been as forthcoming as I might like; and no one seems to think that\nthat’s an issue that needs redress. No one other than me, I suppose; and I\nthink that I count.\nI’m apparently alone in this, but it’s there, nonetheless.\n“Breathe. You need to remember your breathing.” Michael’s not\nreally here – this is one of my hallucinations, his lack of scent tells me more\nthan my other senses – but the advice is good. So, I start rather mechanically\npushing air into my lungs, then pulling it back out. ‘It’s another form of\nbreathing,’ he’d said (when he was actually here) ‘more like when we were in\nthe womb. It helps me to think of the air as coming in from the umbilical:\nEverything good comes in through your navel, then the bad leaves the same\nway.’\nYeah, it’s crazy: But people don’t have as much advice as I might like\nwhen it comes to me, and I have to sort through everything anyways. This is\njust his turn. If I needed proof that he loves me, this would provide it: He’s\nstaying with me as I carry at least one child that isn’t his. The rest of it’s nice\nenough, and he’s been trying to keep me sane through the sheer horniness of\nthese last months.\nCarrying their children hasn’t done me any favors in school, nor has\nit helped with the law; as if the only proper response if I’d actually been\nraped would be to kill the baby or babies that came from their vileness. No\none has been able to tell me what the child might have done to deserve death,\nthough. The closest has been that I shouldn’t have to be punished for my\nrapists’ crimes. And I’m not supposed to think about the baby as being half\nme, either.\nMy friends get it. My Mom does, too; thankfully. Not all the people\nfrom church – which is more confusing to me than most anything else could\nbe – but Mom assures me that they’re thinking more about me than I think.\nApparently, I’m not supposed to think of the baby as being in the image of\nGod? Nor Jesus’ own words about whatever we do to the least of these, that\nwe are also doing to Him?\n“Breathe, baby. You need to be breathing.” Baby’s another of the\nthings that I wish Michael would call me. Yet another sign that this isn’t him;\nbut ‘he’ is right. Again. More breathing. In. Out. Before he tells me again\n– or I’m telling myself before I tell mys- *sigh* I’m more complicated than I \nthink I am – I start holding the breath in for a count of five and then releasing\nit. It helps, even if it doesn’t help in the way I think it should.\nI want Michael to be here, but he’s not allowed. Only relatives, and he\ndoesn’t qualify. Not yet. Mom’s trying to argue for his inclusion, and Dad’s\nbacking her up. It’s been an hour, though; and I’m practicing my breathing\non my own.\nPain… Sudden… Sharp… Overwhelming…\n…and it’s gone, as suddenly as it arrived. I don’t know how long I’ve\nbeen recovering, and the nurse was emphatic that I should be with someone\nso that they could mark the time; and there was something about ‘two\nminutes apart’ that was important. I’m all I have right now, though; so…\nMaybe I should be trying to get some of this written down for whenever\nsomeone comes in to check in on me.\nI’m assuming that someone will, anyways.\nFirst obstetrician was a fail. Not his fault, but he smelled an awful lot\nlike The Uncle who’d spent all that time with me. I couldn’t get past that.\nCould. Not. Nor could his replacement get past me. So… In the interest of\ngetting this handled by someone competent, my family’s doctor came out of\nretirement to handle my situation. He’s the one who’d pulled me into the\nworld, and he’s going to be overseeing my delivery. Or deliveries. They’re\nnot sure how many babies I’m carrying, or what they’re going to look like.\nOr… They know a lot that they’re not telling me. That could also be possible.\n“Babe. You need to watch the clock…” What’s not-really-Michael\nsaying? But that pain’s coming back. Pain… I can’t tell what time it is.\nMostly because of the pain, but also because my eyes are having a hard time\nfocusing through the sweat and tears. “Keep breathing… It’s not going to\nlast forever…” Which is a stupid thing to be saying, Michael!\n“What is? I’m sorry: This gown took forever… Are you-? Nurse!\nNurse! She’s-“ Three of them swarm past him as my pain finally fades… I’m\ntrying to not pass out. The nurses are checking things out, writing things\ndown… All the things that I imagine that I’m supposed to have been doing.\nThere’s been some pressure down below, though; and it’s taken it out of me.\nMichael’s here, though – not the facsimile, but the real one – and he’s\nholding his wrist up to my nose. *chuckle* I can only imagine how this looks\nto the nurses, as I hold his hand in my hands as if trying to get his fingers\ninto my mouth. They keep their opinions to themselves, and Michael – my\nMichael – is talking me into a forest glade, with a small river just behind me;\nthe laughing water starting from a crack in the rocks. There’s sunlight here\n– warming me through without baking me – and the birds are mice enough \n(except for that one) to just provide some noise in the background without\ntaking anything away from that thing that I’m waiting to do; whenever the\ntime comes, I should be ready. I can just take a little nap, now; I’ll know\nwhen the time’s right.\nLike now? I’m in another room? When did that happen? Someone’s\nthought this through, though: There’s a series of posts or something that my\ntail’s being threaded through, and my feet are already in the stirrups. That\nthis is leaving me absolutely uncovered isn’t lost on me, but I can just about\npush that aside with some ‘logic’ about how he’s seen me before – actually\nsaw me coming out of my Mother – and that this isn’t going to be much\ndifferent for him. Other than the tail, the fur, the (hopefully not too likely)\nlikelihood of someone getting sprayed through this process…\nI’m supposed to push with the pressure? When did that rule start?\nJust now? … Okay. Pushing and ‘bearing down’ – whatever the hell that\nmeans – and still remembering to fucking breathe… Twice more? *deep\nbreath* It’s hard – easily the hardest thing I’ve ever done – and some of the\nnurses are talking about how Michael should have been fucking me to get me\n‘ready’, and how births are normally hard for young Mothers like me, and…\nPushing… Pushing…\nThere’s a release of pressure, and people are moving around between\nmy legs… Michael’s been trying to ignore the nurses – probably because of\nhow he’d been trying to not fuck me in my horniness (fucking paladin) – but\nhe’s right here, muttering in my ear and keeping me calm. Ish. He’s also\nright here when they bring up my baby. Our baby. No fur, but nine pounds\nof baby with the cutest little snout and maybe four inches of tail curling up\nbetween her legs.\n“Heather Rose LeFils: I welcome you into God’s world, and our\nfamilies. Be loved, and welcome.” Whispered, because something’s still\nmoving in me; and I don’t want this moment ruined just because here sister\nrefuses to wait for a proper interval before her own introduction. They take\nHeather Rose from me so I can give my attention to the other coming\nattraction.\n…and the pressure’s building, my belly’s rippling(?), and then I have\nanother beautiful baby in my arms. “Daisy Fleur LeFils, be you also welcome\ninto our lives. Into our family, into God’s world, and into the life that He has\nfor you.\nThere’s more – there’s supposed to be a lot more – but the…\neverything’s… I think it’s the everything… it’s going dark… All I think I need\nis a little sleep. Just… just a little sleep, please? \n“Go ahead, Baby. You just let us take care of you for a little bit, and\nyou can pick it back up later. You also are loved.”\nSee? Michael gets me. One of these days, I should make sure he\nknows I love him, too.\nIt’s only right, after all: We have kids. There should be love here. ",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "They never mentioned how cold it would get – how the sheer lack of
heat would pervade my everything – and I guess that that’s not terrible; it
just seems like more cheating: Yet another bit that girls everywhere might
revolt against if they were told the truth. No one’s lied to me, they just
haven’t been as forthcoming as I might like; and no one seems to think that
that’s an issue that needs redress. No one other than me, I suppose; and I
think that I count.
I’m apparently alone in this, but it’s there, nonetheless.
“Breathe. You need to remember your breathing.” Michael’s not
really here – this is one of my hallucinations, his lack of scent tells me more
than my other senses – but the advice is good. So, I start rather mechanically
pushing air into my lungs, then pulling it back out. ‘It’s another form of
breathing,’ he’d said (when he was actually here) ‘more like when we were in
the womb. It helps me to think of the air as coming in from the umbilical:
Everything good comes in through your navel, then the bad leaves the same
way.’
Yeah, it’s crazy: But people don’t have as much advice as I might like
when it comes to me, and I have to sort through everything anyways. This is
just his turn. If I needed proof that he loves me, this would provide it: He’s
staying with me as I carry at least one child that isn’t his. The rest of it’s nice
enough, and he’s been trying to keep me sane through the sheer horniness of
these last months.
Carrying their children hasn’t done me any favors in school, nor has
it helped with the law; as if the only proper response if I’d actually been
raped would be to kill the baby or babies that came from their vileness. No
one has been able to tell me what the child might have done to deserve death,
though. The closest has been that I shouldn’t have to be punished for my
rapists’ crimes. And I’m not supposed to think about the baby as being half
me, either.
My friends get it. My Mom does, too; thankfully. Not all the people
from church – which is more confusing to me than most anything else could
be – but Mom assures me that they’re thinking more about me than I think.
Apparently, I’m not supposed to think of the baby as being in the image of
God? Nor Jesus’ own words about whatever we do to the least of these, that
we are also doing to Him?
“Breathe, baby. You need to be breathing.” Baby’s another of the
things that I wish Michael would call me. Yet another sign that this isn’t him;
but ‘he’ is right. Again. More breathing. In. Out. Before he tells me again
– or I’m telling myself before I tell mys- *sigh* I’m more complicated than I
think I am – I start holding the breath in for a count of five and then releasing
it. It helps, even if it doesn’t help in the way I think it should.
I want Michael to be here, but he’s not allowed. Only relatives, and he
doesn’t qualify. Not yet. Mom’s trying to argue for his inclusion, and Dad’s
backing her up. It’s been an hour, though; and I’m practicing my breathing
on my own.
Pain… Sudden… Sharp… Overwhelming…
…and it’s gone, as suddenly as it arrived. I don’t know how long I’ve
been recovering, and the nurse was emphatic that I should be with someone
so that they could mark the time; and there was something about ‘two
minutes apart’ that was important. I’m all I have right now, though; so…
Maybe I should be trying to get some of this written down for whenever
someone comes in to check in on me.
I’m assuming that someone will, anyways.
First obstetrician was a fail. Not his fault, but he smelled an awful lot
like The Uncle who’d spent all that time with me. I couldn’t get past that.
Could. Not. Nor could his replacement get past me. So… In the interest of
getting this handled by someone competent, my family’s doctor came out of
retirement to handle my situation. He’s the one who’d pulled me into the
world, and he’s going to be overseeing my delivery. Or deliveries. They’re
not sure how many babies I’m carrying, or what they’re going to look like.
Or… They know a lot that they’re not telling me. That could also be possible.
“Babe. You need to watch the clock…” What’s not-really-Michael
saying? But that pain’s coming back. Pain… I can’t tell what time it is.
Mostly because of the pain, but also because my eyes are having a hard time
focusing through the sweat and tears. “Keep breathing… It’s not going to
last forever…” Which is a stupid thing to be saying, Michael!
“What is? I’m sorry: This gown took forever… Are you-? Nurse!
Nurse! She’s-“ Three of them swarm past him as my pain finally fades… I’m
trying to not pass out. The nurses are checking things out, writing things
down… All the things that I imagine that I’m supposed to have been doing.
There’s been some pressure down below, though; and it’s taken it out of me.
Michael’s here, though – not the facsimile, but the real one – and he’s
holding his wrist up to my nose. *chuckle* I can only imagine how this looks
to the nurses, as I hold his hand in my hands as if trying to get his fingers
into my mouth. They keep their opinions to themselves, and Michael – my
Michael – is talking me into a forest glade, with a small river just behind me;
the laughing water starting from a crack in the rocks. There’s sunlight here
– warming me through without baking me – and the birds are mice enough
(except for that one) to just provide some noise in the background without
taking anything away from that thing that I’m waiting to do; whenever the
time comes, I should be ready. I can just take a little nap, now; I’ll know
when the time’s right.
Like now? I’m in another room? When did that happen? Someone’s
thought this through, though: There’s a series of posts or something that my
tail’s being threaded through, and my feet are already in the stirrups. That
this is leaving me absolutely uncovered isn’t lost on me, but I can just about
push that aside with some ‘logic’ about how he’s seen me before – actually
saw me coming out of my Mother – and that this isn’t going to be much
different for him. Other than the tail, the fur, the (hopefully not too likely)
likelihood of someone getting sprayed through this process…
I’m supposed to push with the pressure? When did that rule start?
Just now? … Okay. Pushing and ‘bearing down’ – whatever the hell that
means – and still remembering to fucking breathe… Twice more? *deep
breath* It’s hard – easily the hardest thing I’ve ever done – and some of the
nurses are talking about how Michael should have been fucking me to get me
‘ready’, and how births are normally hard for young Mothers like me, and…
Pushing… Pushing…
There’s a release of pressure, and people are moving around between
my legs… Michael’s been trying to ignore the nurses – probably because of
how he’d been trying to not fuck me in my horniness (fucking paladin) – but
he’s right here, muttering in my ear and keeping me calm. Ish. He’s also
right here when they bring up my baby. Our baby. No fur, but nine pounds
of baby with the cutest little snout and maybe four inches of tail curling up
between her legs.
“Heather Rose LeFils: I welcome you into God’s world, and our
families. Be loved, and welcome.” Whispered, because something’s still
moving in me; and I don’t want this moment ruined just because here sister
refuses to wait for a proper interval before her own introduction. They take
Heather Rose from me so I can give my attention to the other coming
attraction.
…and the pressure’s building, my belly’s rippling(?), and then I have
another beautiful baby in my arms. “Daisy Fleur LeFils, be you also welcome
into our lives. Into our family, into God’s world, and into the life that He has
for you.
There’s more – there’s supposed to be a lot more – but the…
everything’s… I think it’s the everything… it’s going dark… All I think I need
is a little sleep. Just… just a little sleep, please?
“Go ahead, Baby. You just let us take care of you for a little bit, and
you can pick it back up later. You also are loved.”
See? Michael gets me. One of these days, I should make sure he
knows I love him, too.
It’s only right, after all: We have kids. There should be love here. ",
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