[open] no one's listening anymore

[spectra]

Spectra

The ghost does not know that her mother meant to curse her, that she had gone to the magicians with a plea. That she had wanted the ghost to see only bones. 

But this stranger is not bones.
And she is not a stranger either.

She is a viper, too. Scales and fangs and galaxies.
Just as the ghost would be if not for the pain of thirst and hunger that plagued the viper.

She says ‘sister’ and the ghost doesn’t know what that means, but she seems to know about the memory without the ghost having to explain it to her. Her name is Tirza, but the mother never bothered to tell the ghost about the children who came before her. She never bothered to tell her anything but the name, the name that meant ghost. 

The ghost makes herself the viper so that Tirza can see that they are alike. Is that what it means to be sisters? That they both have skin mottled by scales? They both have teeth whittled into fangs? The ghost-turned-viper turns her head and finds that her hide is doused in galaxies, too. 

“Is this what it means to be sisters?” she asks, touching her nose to her own hip and then reaching out to touch her nose to Tirza’s knee. The pain of hunger is too much, though, and her edges soften again. “You’re not dead,” she observes. She turns her head to peer into the darkness. “Everyone else is dead,” she says, something whimsical in the tone. How she wishes she were dead. “Just bones.”

And then she turns her attention back to Tirza. Stranger-turned-sister. “The memory told me my name is Spectra.” 

ALL I WANT IS BEACHES FULL OF DEAD BIRDS. A FLOOD OF LIMBS
WASHED UP ONSHORE. SEASCAPES SPARKLING BRIGHT WITH BONE

@[Tirza]

@[The Monsters] i am once again asking you to take the snake