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October 4, 2005

Stacy : Passages

Mother always said, 'Don't run with scissors'. They must’ve taught that in school and she dutifully passed it along, never having tried it.

I jogged along the path, breathing easily. Not many runners this early in the morning, just me and the squirrels.

Ahead the path curved behind a copse of trees, and my heart beat faster. I pulled the scissors out of my pouch and held them angled into the wind. A thin keening noise escaped from the tip as they sliced, ribbons of reality streaming behind me. A quick sidestep and I was through to the other side.

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