Stone Heart Part 3Chapter 5
Gideon carefully tasted the food Adela brought him. The milk tasted thin and the overly sweet spongy pellets were unfamiliar to his palate. He ate it out of obligation but felt no desire for any further meals. Perhaps my innards are still stone, he thought, maybe I am only flesh on the outside.
He flipped though the books she had given him to look at while she went to acquire clothing for him. She had measured his body parts and the oddly familiar light touch of her small hands was a comfort. They laughed together when she measured his feet. “So your shoe size is freaking enormous. I’ll see if I can find something in that size.” His inseam was another story. He held the tape for her and she tried to not look up his robe while stammering.
She wrote everything down in her sketchbook and told him, “Okay, stay here and for God’s sake, promise me you won
Stone Heart Part 2Chapter 4
“I have got to get you out of here before daylight.” Adela looked about the cemetery. “You can’t just loll about the cemetery, all dangling about the place. You’re going to get arrested.” Adela averted her eyes and helped Gideon upright. “Here, try very hard to sit up, there we go!” His skin was very warm and mostly coated in moon-lit marble dust, except the patches she had washed off before.
He was rapidly regaining his strength, but still was as unbalanced and wobbly as a newborn giraffe. She tied the arms of her jacket around his waist in a makeshift skirt. “I suppose you’re going to my place now.” She slung his long arm over her shoulder and tried her best to stabilize him, her hand slippery with dust. “Of course, my hallucination has to be six inches taller than me and weigh two hundred pounds! Are you
Stone Heart Part 1Stone Heart
Adela Westwood stomped angrily into the Balsom State Historical Cemetery, talking to herself, and glared at the blue jays cheerfully chattering in the massive conifer trees. “What’s the point of going to an early Thursday morning discussion group if everyone is hungover, snoring or wouldn’t participate anyways? I’m going to talk in a normal volume in discussion group and I don’t care if you drank enough to kill a horse last night. What a waste of time. And Professor Merrel’s breath always smells like stale coffee and death.” She kicked a fir cone as hard as she could and ran her hands through her messy dark hair. She couldn’t even find a rubber band this morning.
The events of the last few months ran through her mind in an unstoppable loop. The sudden death of he