'War Stories'
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Home
Uncut grass tickles my ankles and the dankness radiating from the cut stone, shadowed at the wall's foot, chills the backs of my calves. Behind me the view stretches for vertiginous miles, and I know when I turn to look at it I'll feel I could lift my arms and let the wind fill imaginary wings. I could soar on the dense blue mist, track my way across familiar landscape below. My lungs fill with the smell of pine and grass and stone; my heart feeds on the blue distance, my roots go deep.
“If you miss us, why do you live there?” is the most common question I get from friends back home.
The reasons I give vary. The weather. My career. Learning to stand on my own two feet, away from the pressures of family and friends. Finding out who I am.
I never tell them the real reason.
He is loving, honest. He challenges me. He makes me be me - Not some watered down version of the me I think he wants. In Michigan, in California, in Antarctica. Where he is, I am.
He is my home.
As soon as I saw "home" I knew exactly what I was going to write. I just have to get home so I can start physically writing it. I thought it was independent of the pictures, but it could sort of be attached to #3. Sort of. There's a beach in the picture but it's the wrong kind of beach.
I love all the drabbles, but Aimee just broke me.
t fixes askye
You'd better fix me, too, missy.
These are great drabbles. Wonderful topic, Teppy!
t fixes ChiKat
t needs fixing as well
I already felt you up, greedy.
Damn! Foiled again.