11-11-2017, 01:51 PM
to make something beautiful should be enough;
Things were easier, in the afterlife – where she walked among ghosts and spoke with them. She learned of lives lived fully, and ones squandered, and every kind in-between. They were lovely stories, the things the ghosts shared, but she thought of them as only that – as stories. Not something that could happen to her – that she, Salt, could walk Beqanna! Could meet girls and boys and fall in love, have children, have her heart broken, live and laugh and cry. The ideas had seemed too fantastical.
They still do, really – she’s solid, but she doesn’t really know anyone here (she has a twin, a girl who isn’t a ghost, but who glows and heals and survives without eating or drink, but that girls has been gone for quite awhile and Salt isn’t quite sure what had become of her). She’s certainly never fallen in love (she’s old enough, but the idea still seems so silly, so foreign).
Still, though, she looks to bleed the lines of fiction and her reality. Make them mix and mingle.
How are you supposed to get better at living, asks Keeper. An easy question, at least.
“Same as you do anything else,” Salt says, “you practice. I’m practicing.”
Solid body, solid bones, solid smile. Practice.
“What happened to your family? Did they leave?” she asks. It might be a tactless question – history is hinted at in the mare’s words, and Salt is not clever enough to interpret it. But, practice. Practicing.
salt