what up I'm jared I'm 19
hello I am twiggy !!
I'm an aspiring forest mage who loves writing, cats, music, video games, books, punctuation, magic, manga, stationery, pens, colored ink, and the outdoors.
remember, the roses on the lawn don't know which side you're on.
it snowed today in early spring
the band beach house has been extremely on my mind lately
I hope you're all doing well! it snowed again here today - hopefully the last time for the year :')
my cat told me a dream she dreamt when I was out of the house overnight yesterday. though it didn't quite fit her purposes, out of respect for my orientation toward the worlds of shirley jackson, my meow's story started as all cat stories do: with the statement "my mother, who was the first cat, told me this..."
in her dream there was a locked box with golden hinges, and given that she is, in fact, a cat and does not have thumbs, she was unable to open it. at this realization she sat beside it and angled her ears toward it. her curiosity was unhurried and at ease.
her brother, who she has not seen in many years (we could not adopt them both), was at once beside her, and they greeted each other. he took a place next to the box across from her. his name was chopper, once, though it could be anything now.
in her dream, my beautiful girl told me, the box shone with contentment, its gold gleaming and the clasp on the front promising something, anything. her brother poured the contents of his life without her out, slowly, not quite as thick as honey but just as nostalgic when stirred with milk. her happiness swung her tail in a pendulum around her crouched paws. she closed her eyes for a breath, her purring a pedal tone to the rhythms of her brother's story. when she opened them, his voice continued, the flow uninterrupted. but she was alone, once more, with the box and its golden hinges.
she awoke, she said, curled in her favorite of my bean bags, and the sun that crystallized off of the first falling snowflakes shone through the glass of a brown and yellow lamp on my desk to glow upon her fur, a shimmering gold, and she could not, for a long moment, recall where she had last seen such a color.
my lovely stretches up, her story finished, and holds my gaze before blinking and curling up once again, this time with her back to me. her silence is an invitation to pet her, and I whisper my thanks into her ears as my fingers glide over the silk of her side.