visceral

M

icah was the child of the night. he was the child of sally and hank. micah drew pictures of flowers and rectangles. there wasn’t much to do in that big house of theirs. it was too big all full of spiral staircases and glass ocean views. he felt very sea fairing in that house of theirs. he would look out the window and stare at the placid blue linoleum most would call the sea. micah never drew in blue. he never drew the ocean. he thought in reds and fiery dances, not in the serene azure which was his environment. micah accepted his environment for what it was but never allowed it into his memory. his memory was dedicated to a life many years before his, far away from this side of the ocean.

F

rancesca was a girl of the sky. she was the daughter of alice and frank. francesca drew pictures of dolphins and gravity. there was much to do in that world of hers. it constantly invited her to partake in its limitless possibilities. she felt very small in that world of hers. she would look into herself and ponder on her soul which most would call beautiful. she never drew in pink. she never drew butterflies. she thought in terms of abstract vastness, not in the beauty that was her soul. francesca accepted herself for what she was but never allowed it into her being. her being was dedicated to a life many years before hers, far away from this side of her beauty.