Let Us Fly
(in honour of the great and forever David Bowie)
In a hospital, somewhere in the city that never sleeps, a young old man lay quietly. He wasn't sleeping, although one might have been forgiven for thinking so. After all, his eyes were closed and his breathing peaceful; but no, he was not sleeping. Not this close to the end. He knew it was coming, could feel it in his bones and in the tips of his fingers, and he didn't want to miss a second of the time he had left.
"So, are you finally ready to take me up on my offer?" a smooth, cultured voice, not so different from his own, spoke up from where he knew the window of his hospita
Let Us Fly
(in honour of the great and forever David Bowie)
In a hospital, somewhere in the city that never sleeps, a young old man lay quietly. He wasn't sleeping, although one might have been forgiven for thinking so. After all, his eyes were closed and his breathing peaceful; but no, he was not sleeping. Not this close to the end. He knew it was coming, could feel it in his bones and in the tips of his fingers, and he didn't want to miss a second of the time he had left.
"So, are you finally ready to take me up on my offer?" a smooth, cultured voice, not so different from his own, spoke up from where he knew the window of his hospita
West coast, on the island, even, so very west! Glad you liked my little story. I need to do more writing again but lately my creative outlet has been stitchery
Oh, excellent! My parents used to live in Seattle and liked to go to Victoria for the weekend sometimes. Stitchery is a wonderful outlet, I wish you best of luck with your endeavors. See you around, hopefully.
You're welcome, just glad it's been appreciated. I'd been in a bit of a "creative slump" for a while, but when the muse calls, you must obey, and for what better purpose to obey the muse than in honour of a man who was muse to so many.