Posted in creativity, fiction, writing

Bones

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I’m not going to talk about writing.

There are these bones, you see, almost 32,000 of them, strung together in a fairly reasonable order.

I think they will function well. All the joints are properly connected, in the right places—foot, ankle, shin, knee, and so on. It took a bit of effort. A few bones didn’t seem to fit, and had to be moved. Bones do have their logic.

And now that they’re properly fashioned, as bones should be, they look, well, skeletal.

They need padding.

I can’t put a suit or a dress on them yet. It won’t hang right. A skeleton need padding first, and then layers.

There’s a long list beside me, getting longer by the minute. I leave the desk, and five new items for the list occur to me, and five more, which will layer nicely on those bones.

But for now, I plan to let them hang around unbothered for a couple of weeks, so they can get used to their assembly, settle in to their identity.

Bones like that.

Yes, they do.

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