Mary E. Pearson

Once upon a time, there was a man as great as the gods_But even the great can tremble with fear.Even the great can fall

Chance. It weaves through our lives like a golden thread, sometimes knotting, tangling, and breaking along the way. Loose threads are left hanging, but the in and out, the back and forth continues, the weaving goes on. It doesn't stop.

Maybe we all have a dark place inside of us, a place where dark thoughts and darker dreams live, but it doesn't have to become who we are.

Of course you did." I took a step closer. "You have strengths, Tavish, that I greatly admire. You're skills helped saved Rafe's and my lives, for which I'll always be indebted to you. But there are other kinds of strength too. Quiet, gentle ones that are just as valuable, even if you don't entirely understand them.

A perfect night... a perfect forever

I see Jenna, smiling, chattering. And failing. When you are perfect, is there anywhere else to go?

Poetry?"..."No, just thoughts, glimpses, things running through my head.

I will find you.In the farthest corner, I will find you.

The dictionary says my identity should be all about being separate or distinct, and yet it feels like it is so wrapped up in others.

It's other people who make us wise, and I haven't known nearly enough.

Until one comes who is mightier,The one sprung from misery,The one who was weak,The one who was hunted,The one marked with claw and vine,The one named in secret,The one called Jezelia.

The information. Every bit that of information that was ever in your brain. But the information is not the mind Jenna. That we've never accomplished before. What we've done with you is groundbreaking. We cracked the code. The mind is an energy that the brain produces. Think of a glass ball twirling on your fingertip. If it falls, it shatters into a million pieces. All the parts of a ball are still there, but it will never twirl with that force on your fingertip again. The brain is the same way.

Snow. I wondered what it felt like. Aunt Bernette said it could be both soft and hard, cold and hot. It stung and burned when the wind pelted it through the air, and it was a gentle cold feather when it drifted down in lazy circles from the sky. I couldn't imagine it being so many things, and I wondered if she had taken license with her story as Father always claimed. I couldn't stop thinking of it.Snow.

Ascente cha ores ri ve breazza.""Turn your ear to the wind," she interpreted. "Stand strong.

I saw sadness when I looked at what was left of them. The demigods who had once controlled the heavens had been brought low, humbled to the point of death. I always imagined I heart their crumbled masterpieces singing an endless mourning dirge. I turned, looking at the wild grass shivering across the plateau. "I see only reminders that nothing lasts forever, not even greatness.""Some things last."I faced him. "Really? And just what would that be?""The things that matter.

Today was the day a thousand dreams would die and a single dream would be born.The wind knew. It was the first of June, but cold gusts bit at the hilltop citadelle as fiercely as deepest winter, shaking the windows with curses and winding through drafty halls with warning whispers. There was no escaping what was to come.

There aren't many berry bushes where I'm from.""And just where would that be?"His hand paused on a berry like it was a monumental decision whether to pluck it or not. He finally pulled and explained he was from a small town in the southernmost part of Morringhan. When I asked the name, he said it was very small and had no name...."A town with no name? Really? How very odd." I waited for him to scramble, and he didn't disappoint me."It's only a region. A few scattered dwellings at most. We're farmers there. Mostly farmers. And you? Where are you from?"...I took the berry still poised in his fingers and popped it in my mouth. Where was I from? I narrowed my eyes and smiled. "A small town in the northernmost part of Morrighan. Mostly farmers. Only a regions, really. A few scattered dwellings. At most. No name."He couldn't restrain a chuckle. "Then we come from opposite but similar worlds, don't we?

The seed of the gift may come, but a seedling that isn't nourished dies quickly.