003 ☠ dictated

[dgaf]

[ Here at last, the elusive Effy no longer hiding behind loopy writing or Morse code, if only because her arm hurts too much to do either. Today she dictates to the journal, raspy as if after much crying and sounding just as tired. She might as well be reading the dictionary: ]

Monster. From the Old French monstre. A bad portent.

A large, ugly, frightening imaginary creature. Or to criticize and reprimand harshly. To monster. [ She chuckles a little, dryly. ]

We have many monsters here. They're everywhere. Outside your window. Under your bed. In your bed. [ Another giggle. ] If we imagine something, does it become real? When we forget, does it disappear? But when it's quiet and you close your eyes and concentrate, you'll remember. And it comes back to you.

You can't imagine broken bones. Can you?

Comments

[dgaf]

[ This is totally a legit thing to do with a block of ice, plus she can catch the water that drips from her nose with her tongue. Ta-da! Facial acrobatics. She smiles at him expecting an applause. ]

Don't be pathetic.

[indirectcause]

Better pathetic than with a broken fucking arm.

[She gets no applause.]

[dgaf]

A broken fucking arm heals.

[ She raises her eyebrows at him, because you know, patheticness doesn't. ]

[indirectcause]

In about a month, yeah. When you're in a survival situation, that sort of shit is a death sentence.