Abbey Ness
Bio
Recipe for Pondering:
Hot Drink, optional
Honesty (just between you and me)
A cat demanding attention at every moment of her waking life... No Substitutes...
Stories (13)
Filter by community
Not I
"The psychological symptoms of this mental illness include: paran-..." Her fingers paused on the keys... The lab around her felt muffled as an odd sensation crept up Kate's neck and across her face. Blinking and flexing her fingers she looked down at her long, slender hands. Something was off... She looked around, blinking and squinting hard. It was just her eyes feeling fatigued after too much screen time. Looking at her hands again, the feeling was still there. They seemed wrong somehow. Like she couldn't remember how they were supposed to look. Or, they just didn't look like they should? Obviously attached to her body, they were her hands. She knew that much logically, but it didn't feel like her body agreed. Mumbling something to herself about how much she hated Mr. Nessing and this stupid assignment, she rubbed her eyes and looked again at her fingers, trembling slightly with the hereditary tremor she'd had since birth. They were her's again, and her time inside over the last several months had not done her tan any favors. "God I need some sun..." She chuckled to herself.
By Abbey Ness2 years ago in Horror
The Eyes That Never Close
What does a voice say when it has brushed eternity? What words suffice to sum it up? Composed they sit...Silent. Resolved, they act out their narrative in the weathering blue stone that ages even the innocent. Wizened beyond their childlike forms, they weep with the rain and whistle with the wind. They who see, but do not speak. The watchers of the world.
By Abbey Ness2 years ago in Poets
The Glory of a Child
I am always captivated by the joy of children. Their charming delight in everyday amazements like sprinklers, puddles, mud pies, bugs, and all manner of “don’t play with that” things. You can give a small child a string, and he or she will go on playing with it for as long as it does things that they do not expect. A piece of twine is an endless line of discovery. (Much like the thneads in Dr. Suess’s The Lorax). I was watching a little boy one time while his parents were away, and we were running out of things to do. He had already watched a movie, and we had played outside for a while. I decided that lunch was the perfect way to occupy both mind and body for at least a brief time, so we made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sat at the table talking about the movie. The talking was more akin to a stream of sound effects and indiscernible jelly colored language mixed with the occasional roar for dramatic effect, but it was entertaining and kept him in one place effectively. After our brief stop for sustenance, we pondered over what the next conquest would be. The choices were limited to: the evil emperor (played involuntarily by the baby), the stairs (on hands and knees as a horse mind you), or the kingdom (a charming description of the backyard with the playset as the castle).
By Abbey Ness7 years ago in Families
Inarticulate Passion
"People are often NOT eloquent precisely about what moves them most. Half the time we aren't really sure what we mean, and if we are, we don't want to say it, and if we do, we can't find the words, and if we can, others aren't listening, and if they are, they don't understand... In fact, various failures to communicate can make the richest sort of dialogue, just as the most stunted language is sometimes the most revealing of character."–Janet Burroway.
By Abbey Ness7 years ago in Humans
A Mournful Commune with the Trees
The damp leaves shuffled softly beneath my feet. Their hushed announcement heard by only I and the gossiping trees. The trees wondered, chattering away as if I couldn’t hear them. why I was there? Why I didn’t act like other boys? Charging swiftly and whooping and laughing and hitting things… They never walked, they ran… The trees were suspicious of a boy who walked.
By Abbey Ness7 years ago in Poets
