star house/dark house
Nov. 29th, 2001 10:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aslantin my grandmother's dark house, watching a dance, changing a child's diaper. a missile crashes into the woods behind the house. we listen carefully to the screaming reentry. they hit the star house grandma says from the dark recovery room.
i go out to check the damage: two children are cutting the skin from a live deer with long coltish legs. they don't understand that it will die in the winter without skin. it scampers off, blood everywhere, to rub horns with a massive buck.
we climb a wall; i begin to cry and nearly can't get down. my father coaxes me down, but keeps disturbing the ladder's legs. i grip stone. i am told to climb down even when i can't see the ledge for my feet. a pack of motorbikes roars off beside the house.
in a grove of pines we come upon it: the star house is a giant dollhouse, done up in gingerbread blue and white. i peer inside where the missile hit: the broken window glass is tinkly everywhere. i rearrange the furniture where it has fallen. i replace the many tiny dolls on their many tiny chairs. they are all girl dolls, a house full of girls. a bride doll is tied into her bed. nearby is another smaller dollhouse that seems to have some of my old dollhouse furniture in it.
the moon is out, glowing bright jewel colors. we can't figure out how or why. its light caught in the branches of a dry pine.
across the threshold of the room are kitchen knives with their blades turned up.
i go out to check the damage: two children are cutting the skin from a live deer with long coltish legs. they don't understand that it will die in the winter without skin. it scampers off, blood everywhere, to rub horns with a massive buck.
we climb a wall; i begin to cry and nearly can't get down. my father coaxes me down, but keeps disturbing the ladder's legs. i grip stone. i am told to climb down even when i can't see the ledge for my feet. a pack of motorbikes roars off beside the house.
in a grove of pines we come upon it: the star house is a giant dollhouse, done up in gingerbread blue and white. i peer inside where the missile hit: the broken window glass is tinkly everywhere. i rearrange the furniture where it has fallen. i replace the many tiny dolls on their many tiny chairs. they are all girl dolls, a house full of girls. a bride doll is tied into her bed. nearby is another smaller dollhouse that seems to have some of my old dollhouse furniture in it.
the moon is out, glowing bright jewel colors. we can't figure out how or why. its light caught in the branches of a dry pine.
across the threshold of the room are kitchen knives with their blades turned up.
