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#jodie
We walk this earth to see the sky,but there are no stars out here tonight.I can’t deny—that’s such a shame,as I watch him fight this change. The light once burning in his eyes flickers soft, then slowly dies. The face will go, the body too, but not the mind; it stays true. It’s always him, though form may change, a different smile, a voice rearranged. He’s done this dance time after time. Now thirteen comes along the line. The writing lingers on the wall as he takes his final bow. A quiet testament in fading ink, to all that was, and won’t be now. The audience exhales, and the lights grow dim. This is not the first,nor will it be the last. From old into new, time moves untold its lords unseen, yet never erased. Same soul, but a different face. A fresh regeneration takes its place. Ready to travel through shifting time, and then return to familiar places. We blink once more—just like before, and everything’s new, yet somehow the same at the core. Now marked by number thirteen.
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Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 8:36 PM UTC
katie-23
From 12 to 13
We walk this earth to see the sky,but there are no stars out here tonight.I can’t deny—that’s such a shame,as I watch him fight this change. The light once burning in his eyes flickers soft, then slowly dies. The face will go, the body too, but not the mind; it stays true. It’s always him, though form may change, a different smile, a voice rearranged. He’s done this dance time after time. Now thirteen comes along the line. The writing lingers on the wall as he takes his final bow. A quiet testament in fading ink, to all that was, and won’t be now. The audience exhales, and the lights grow dim. This is not the first,nor will it be the last. From old into new, time moves untold its lords unseen, yet never erased. Same soul, but a different face. A fresh regeneration takes its place. Ready to travel through shifting time, and then return to familiar places. We blink once more—just like before, and everything’s new, yet somehow the same at the core. Now marked by number thirteen.
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"ONE IN THREE WOMEN ARE VICTIMS OF ****** ASSAULT." They say. I am sat. Awestruck. "LOOK TO YOUR LEFT AND LOOK TO YOUR RIGHT. ONE OF YOU IS A VICTIM OF ****** ASSAULT." I look to the woman on my left. I look to the woman on my right. I look to the front. Avoid any eye contact. Keep a straight face. Don't give anything away. How dare they out me like this? The woman to my left knows that she hasn't. The woman to my right knows that she hasn't. That leaves me. Raw and exposed. I did not give consent for this to be shared. This was my secret. My ***** little secret that I do not want to have but I do despite. Did they plan this? They must have known. There must be a seating plan somewhere. Someone did some digging around. But how? I told no one. This was my secret. My ***** little secret that I do not want to have but do despite. Anger creeps up inside. Avoid any eye contact. Keep a straight face. Don't give anything away. Pain. I dig my nails into the palm of my hand and I squeeze. Blood is drawn. I look down at my hand. The woman on my left does the same. Cover it quick. I look forward. They are still talking. I process nothing. Avoid any eye contact. Keep a straight face. Don't give anything away. They are still talking. Focus. Concentrate. What are they saying? Finally I tune back in to their closing line, Reiterating their first point: "ONE IN THREE WOMEN ARE VICTIMS OF ****** ASSAULT."
0
Aug 29, 2022
Aug 29, 2022 at 5:24 PM UTC
charlie-may-cullip
Prima Facie: A Response
"ONE IN THREE WOMEN ARE VICTIMS OF ****** ASSAULT." They say. I am sat. Awestruck. "LOOK TO YOUR LEFT AND LOOK TO YOUR RIGHT. ONE OF YOU IS A VICTIM OF ****** ASSAULT." I look to the woman on my left. I look to the woman on my right. I look to the front. Avoid any eye contact. Keep a straight face. Don't give anything away. How dare they out me like this? The woman to my left knows that she hasn't. The woman to my right knows that she hasn't. That leaves me. Raw and exposed. I did not give consent for this to be shared. This was my secret. My ***** little secret that I do not want to have but I do despite. Did they plan this? They must have known. There must be a seating plan somewhere. Someone did some digging around. But how? I told no one. This was my secret. My ***** little secret that I do not want to have but do despite. Anger creeps up inside. Avoid any eye contact. Keep a straight face. Don't give anything away. Pain. I dig my nails into the palm of my hand and I squeeze. Blood is drawn. I look down at my hand. The woman on my left does the same. Cover it quick. I look forward. They are still talking. I process nothing. Avoid any eye contact. Keep a straight face. Don't give anything away. They are still talking. Focus. Concentrate. What are they saying? Finally I tune back in to their closing line, Reiterating their first point: "ONE IN THREE WOMEN ARE VICTIMS OF ****** ASSAULT."
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