My friend Ruthless and I got our nails professionally done for her 21st birthday. The stylists refrained from rolling their eyes at our unseasonable choices. But it’s always Halloween for us, at least a little bit. We both serve on the production team of our haunted house, and we talked shop the whole way through our pampering. The haunt had its first meeting last night, wherein the director revealed the theme and we debated which animatronic monster to invest in. (I’m angling for something vaguely humanoid, for the record. Far more reusable.)
My new acrylics made me nostalgic for my favorite time of year. So in today’s OotD, I went full haunter. It’s high time I showed off this sweater. I got it in October and wore it faithfully through the end of the season, but it’s never showed up here. Granted, I didn’t have time for too many OotDs during haunt season, but a piece like this deserves all the love it can get. It takes pride of place in my ugly sweater collection. I want one for every holiday – yes, including the summer ones, dammit.
Can we talk about how I’m so not used to having nails longer than my fingertips? I’ve bitten them to nubs since I could chew. I have literally never experienced overhang of any kind. How do people live like this? After thirty seconds of fumbling, I had to ask the cashier to pull my debit card out of my wallet for me. I’m dreading the first time I have to pee – or, god forbid, change a tampon.
In other news from the “Skye’s passions” arena, I’m following Marlen’s lead and announcing that I’m working on a book! Two, actually. One is an anthology of short fiction based on fairy tales; the other is a memoir. I realize there’s something uniquely pretentious about writing a memoir after barely two decades of life, but believe me, I’ve got some stories to tell. My life tends toward the bizarre.
Storytelling is my first and foremost love. I’m one of those people who’s always writing a novel. I actually completed two in middle and high school – not that I’d ever let them see the light of day in 2014. As I’ve gotten more established in my journalism career and started getting my essays picked up, I’ve left a lot of my own projects in the dust. And I want to remember how to write for the sheer mad joy of it, not just because I’m on a deadline.
Blouse & Sweater: Classy Closet Crinolines & Bow: Spirit Halloween Belt: Goodwill Scarf & Tights: Gifted Shoes: Dirt Chic (tutorial here!)
And because I’m a tease, enjoy an excerpt from one Once upon a Dream, of the short stories in my anthology.
“Aurora,” Adia asked one morning, “what’s become of your body while you’ve been here?”
“The usual, I’m sure. I never lived in it much anyway. Why should it matter that I’ve vacated for good? I’d wager no one can tell the difference.”
“You are alive here,” Adia agreed. “You’re potent just this way, slithering through my blood every night. A whole body would only dilute you. You’re better as a spark, a seed, a notion.”
Adia was beginning to picture Aurora’s face. The noble girl’s features ran through her blood. She was fair and sharp and cunning, with smooth eyes that couldn’t hide her cleverness. She was the lace to Adia’s linen, the bloom to her fade, the daughter who had somehow survived. She was perfect.
Aurora set up camp in Adia’s head that night, and gave her dizzying dreams she didn’t remember.