Fiction: Vision

My sister, aptly blogging at @QuilledSister, writes short stories on her blog. Read her stories; they’re wonderful. Every so often one of them lodges in my imagination and sends me wandering down a side path of my own. This is one of those wanderings. Original Story: Vision My Story “Fuck the fucking fuckers!” Her blue-black skin flashed as she swirled, sparks flashing with every movement. “Fuck the patriarchy, the communists, the capitalists, Rebecca Yarros, whoever the FUCK is responsible for the shit I’m getting these days.” I kept my cool. Ironic, if you think about it. She flung what she was holding into the fire. The parchment didn’t flare; it just smoldered. The flames were, if anything, smaller with the addition of her fuel. I studied the young woman. She wasn’t, strictly speaking, young, though she carried herself that way. She was a stunner, though. You couldn’t point to any piece of her that was particularly attractive, but the whole was a dark, smoky, writhing, seductive……