"No," he said. He, too, spoke softly, as though in the sacntuary of a church. He turned and lifted a hand to the wall behind us, where the deer leaped and the cranes soared into space beyond the stone.
     "No," he said again. "The folks that made such beasts...they couldna do such things." He turned again then to the two skeletons, entwined at our feet. He crouhed over them, tracing the line of the bones with a gentle finger, careful not to touch the ivory surface.
     "See how they lie," he said. "They didna fall here, and no one laid out their bodies. They lay down themselves." His hand glided above the long arm-bones of the larger skeleton, the dark shadow fluttering like a large moth as it crossed the pile of ribs.
     "He had his arms around her," he said. "He cupped his thighs behind her own, and held her tight to him, and his head is resting on her shoulder."

     His hand made passes over the bones, illuminating, indicating, clothing them once more with the flesh of imagination, so I could see them as they had been, embraced for the last time, for always. The small bones of the fingers had fallen apart, but the vestige of gristle still joined the metacarpals of the hands. The tiny phalanges overlay each other;  they had linked hands in their last waiting. 
     Jamie had risen and was surveying the interior of the cavern, the late sun painting the walls with splashes of crimson and ochre.  
    
     "There." He pointed to a spot near the cavern entrance. The rocks were brown with dust and age, but not rusty with water and erosion, like those deeper in the cave.
     "That was the entrance, once," he said. "The rocks fell once before, and sealed this place." He turned back and rested a hand on the rocky outcrop that shielded the lovers from the light.
     "The must have felt their way around the cave, hand in hand," I said. "Looking for a way out, in the dust and the dark."
     "Aye." He rested his forehead against the stone, eyes closed. "And the light was gone, and the air failed them. And so they lay down in the dark to die." The tears made wet tracks through the dust on his cheeks. I brushed a hand beneath my own eyes, and took his fee hand, carefully weaving my fingers with his. 




- Diana Gabaldon, Dragonfly in Amber. 

So, I missed school today. I kinda wanted to go, but not really.

I mean, I missed all my friends, - minus Edan but no one needs to know that -, But I had a project due today that I  havn't even started. And that sucks.

Went shopping with my Dad, cause he has all the moooney. Bought This:

- Two pairs of jeans, one black the other dark blue.

- One pair of black red and white plaid, SO HUGE.

- Two shirts, one a green tank top the other a black turtle neck. I love it because when I pull it up over my mouth, I look like a ninja. :DD

- Two chains/necklaces. Whatever I want them to be.

- Two new eyeliners. One blue the other purple. ExceptIkindastolethem.

- Two new CD's. One is HIM - Dark Light. The other is Kelly Clarkson - Breakaway. (Shut up.)

- And yeah. I'm going to buy hair dye - black - and hit someone up to dye it for me. :D

Big money spending today. And it was all after 9:00 pm. LATE NIGHT SHOPPING, WOOT!

On a less happy note: Dear God. My grandma and grandpa are splitting up. Because my grandpa is crazy again and he attacked her. It's like...Dimensia or some such shit. And yeah. So, not only can my parents not stand each other, neither can my grandparents. Aren't they supposed to be the ones that you can runaway to and they will hug you and tell you everything is all better? Guess not.

Also. My dad. I thought it was all over. I thought I could get on with my life and be a normal teenager. Again, I guess not. The dumb fuck went out with a bunch of friends, and as Martin would say, he reached the 'fuck it' point. This is where one simply gives up on restraint and goes back to a bad habit. So he came home, stoned out of his fucking head and drunk as a pig.

Well, if he reached the fuck it point, so have I.