Elanora Hannelore's Journal

Ringleader

The Hospital
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Mall Rats
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Downtime

Routine

Wake. Stretch. Brush teeth. Stretch. Eat. Shower. Take the train. Stretch. Teach a class. Stretch.

Eat lunch. Hunt jobs. Stretch. Walk back. Stretch. Wait. Stretch. Watch the city pass. Stretch. Eat dinner.

Bus home. Eyes drooping. Open the journal. Close the journal. Stretch. Fall in bed. Stretch. Brush teeth. Stretch. Bed, again. Stretch.

 

Again.

 

Again.

 

Again.

 

What a bore, Elanora thinks, in slow pieces between the building blocks of her days.

What a big fucking snoozefest this shit is, says the lucid thoughts that whisper through her subconscious.

Wouldn't it be better, cry her dreams, if there was something more... entertaining you could do with your life?

 

Again.

 

Again.

 

Again.

 

And one day, between the moments, Elanora stretches not just her body but her mind, her soul, every lick of the muscle and bone in her.

She peers at herself. Something's different. Big gymnastic studio mirror wall. One woman, alone, contorted. There are more joints than she should have.

She almost smiles a little. Well, that's a start on the entertainment.

 

Another day passes, but there is more in it now.

 

She is losing sleep, gradually.

 

She hunts for the odd and the strange and the weird. She hunts within herself for the odd and the strange and the weird. Does she find what she looks for?

 

Does she find it?

She doesn't know.

But she finds herself.

 

A strange, strange, self, but hers, and beautifully so.

 

Wake. Admire. Extend. Brush teeth. Stretch. Shower. Eat. Contort. Take the train. Teach a class. Warp.

 

Stretch.

Sanctuary
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