Expatriate

Rocks in the wilderness break apart: let the waters rush forth! as I rest from my wanderings. Six nights ago I hurt my arm while wandering, always wandering. But not along my wanderer's path under cloud by day, fire by night. I was climbing a cliff and dashed it against the stone, so crawled down again, to my cloud by day, fire by night. Now almost healed I rest by the waters. Sunlight in shallow pools reflects my ponderings as two tears mingle with the light; my arm aches a little. Tomorrow I'll rove on through the harsh wild over rock and brown grass, for I would not stay or lose my path hidden in the wilderness, if it

"Dude, there's a snake after me." "Hiss…hiss…" "Man, I'm gettin' tired. Maybe I should call for help." "Hiss…hiss…" "Yeah, totally. Help! Help!" "Hiss…" "Nuts, no one ever comes when I call for help. Maybe I'll just faint." "Hiss…" "Yeah. Goodbye world." "Look at the poor prince, flat on the ground." "Hey, we're the Three Cool Babes. Let's save his skin." "Oh fine." "I love killing snakes. They do such a nice gurgle when they die." "Think we should go tell the Queen? She always likes to be up on everything." "Yeah, good idea. Ciao, princie. Hope he wakes up soon." "Sing high sing low! I am the bird-creep! Darn it, I just missed

Holly stared at Margaret. Margaret drew back into her seat, with a half-shy, half-proud look.      "Did you say you were beautiful?" Holly asked, disbelieving.      "Yes. I am. Of course, not everyone can see it. I myself didn't see it at first. But then, very few people can distinguish between beauty and ugliness. That is why I don't trust most people. But some I do, because I know they can see and tell the truth."      "Do you trust me?"      "I think so. There's something about you that makes me think you too can see beauty. That you too can see and tell the truth."      Holly swallowed hard.      "Haven't there been people though, w

III     Tahath hired his new servant when I was about eight years old. The man had a wife and a son almost my age. Naturally, I took no interest in this new servant, but my father brought him up with glee several times in conversation.     "He's of good family in Uun, and won't do a lick of work. Such a waste of money for Tahath!"     The servant, Jetur, had left Uun when a famine that everyone had said would end very soon continued to rack the land for years after it had overstayed its welcome. My father was much disappointed to find that he was proud not only of his family but also of his ability to work hard. He began work for Tahath

The wind died down during the night; Holly poked her head out of her curtains the next morning to see what the changeable Hungarian weather had turned into. The Marrs lived in the western side of the city, among the Buda hills. In the summer the trees kept up a lush show of green, but now they shivered bare in the November air, wearing only a light slip of sunlight. Looking at it critically, Holly decided it would do, and turned back to get dressed.     Holly's parents had been invited to a party that day, and they were taking her along. She didn't imagine it would be very exciting, but you never could tell.     "It will be a good opportu

Chapter One     Where did he come from? She wasn't sure. When had she first seen him? That was difficult to remember. They had met a good while back, but their acquaintance only began to deepen about a year and a half ago. It wasn't even clear who had introduced them. But the most important question, why he had come, she could answer. He had come to keep her company.     "I know you don't want to. You're scared. But you ought to make an effort."     Of course he did lecture her. But she didn't really mind. If he could be blunt, so could she. There was nothing they disagreed on that they could not make up later.     "You were flat at t

I      Kor, the son of Tahath, the son of Assir. And the name of the wife of Tahath was Abihail, and she bare him Kor, and Maamith his sister.      And Tahath had a servant, Jetur, of the land of Uun, who took to wife Eglah and begat one son, the name of which he called Rephal.      II      The words of Javan, son of Johanan, in the days of king Jehiel in the tenth year of his reign:      Since long years I have kept this story in my heart. I could not speak of it without a feeling of betrayal for those whose story it is. But at last the knowledge has pressed too heavily on me, and I must write it. It is a love story, but an odd one, for

Chapter One     The tram jerked to a stop, the doors were flung open, and the passengers surged out. Holly Marr struggled through the crowd and down the streetcar steps. Dirty fog hung over the square, giving it a slightly sinister but romantic feeling. An exciting night, Holly thought, a night on which things happened.     A tramp wandered by her, and she looked away, only to look back again curiously when he had passed. Another tram was coming into the square, making its way through the maze of tracks. Holly climbed a flight of stone steps and onto a sidewalk. She started up the street; the white frost of November wind whipped her hair

The final curtain had fallen on the last act of the opera Tosca. Frank Sandor sat very still in his box seat. Last year, when his family had first moved to Budapest, his parents had taken him to see the opera La Traviata. He still remembered the shame of having begun to cry at the end, when the heroine died of tuberculosis.     Frank Sandor had always had trouble controlling sadness. When he was little, his friends had teased him for crying for the dead fish when they had all gone fishing. Last year, when leaving the opera house after La Traviata, his mother had told him that he was the most sentimental sixteen year old boy she'd ever met.

Dance, sing, be merry! for the world is gray, and we must be patches of color that stray o'er the wild earth. And sing what we like, and shout what we like! Cry peals of laughter, weep tears of mirth. Let's watch the people hurry, scurry by, they pay us no heed as we jolly stroll on, calling to them with nonsensical song: telling of all the troubles that lie ahead while they live, and perhaps when they die. For if they could hear our jester's bells chime, if they catch our sweet song of the knowledge of time, they would find far too much of the wisdom that's hidden; and to sleep, dreamless sleep, by the gods would be bidde