Elissa Janine Hoole Quotes

I spin in the trail to face Kat, who raises her own walking stick to meet mine.
'A duel to the death?' Kat says, giggling.
I laugh, too, and we spar for a moment playfully until Kat gently presses the tip of her stick into my chest. 'On your knees and beg for mercy.'
Oh, god. This feels silly and dangerous at the same time. I kneel. I look up at Kat, beautiful and fierce standing there with the setting sun in her hair and her face so stern. Only her eyes are full of mirth. I stare.
'Close your eyes, prisoner.'
I giggle stupidly, my heart leaping at the point of her stick.
'Close your eyes. And stop laughing.'
I try to obey, shaking a little.
Katy moves her makeshift lance to my neck, pressing gently. 'Close em.'
I close my eyes, serious at last. There is a long silence, and I feel genuinely vulnerable for a moment, as though Kat really does have a sword to my neck. Then I feel the stick come down gently and touch each of my shoulders.
'I… dub… thee… mine,' says Kat softly. 'Sealed with a kiss.' The stick falls to the forest floor behind her. She kneels down in front of me and touches my face with both hands. It's all I can do to stay here, to be here, to hold still.

It's strange how a plan can unfold sometimes - an umbrella shooting up at the touch of a button and extending out in all directions quickly, effortlessly.

I wonder if it hurts, being carved out like this, one grain of sand at a time. I wonder if the rocks realize that for every part of themselves they lose, they gain something beautiful

I used to believe in so many things - elves and leprechauns, virgins riding unicorns. I trusted that the world was made up of people who were generally good, though they may have lost their way temporarily. The faith my mother gave me - the words she whispered when she said good night, the idea that gave me hope for the two of us even when we fought bitterly over trivial things, as mothers and daughters do, I guess - was her belief in love, a love so unconditional we could barely scratch at the edges of comprehending it.

It would not be fair to say that the fire stole my faith, since in truth it has been slipping away from me all my life, flipping between my fingers like a shiny little minnow
such a far cry from the trophy salmon that dangled from my father's fist.

You kissed me.' I tear my eyes away from the mirror to face her. We are close, so close standing here. My lungs might be carved out of granite, cast from bronze, the way they refuse to expand, to fill with air.
'You kissed me back,' says Kat softly.
I nod. There's nothing more to say.

In some ways, my mother was right; a tree does look the same from the top as it does from the bottom: same branches, starting as weighty limbs and narrowing to the tiniest twigs; same leaves, quivering in the slightest breeze or in the rush of the trains; same colors, same rustling, same gentle sway. But from earth, looking up, a tree is hopeful; it might be touching the sky. From above, looking down, you can see
it's stuck in the dust, just like us.

Let's stay up all night,' Kat whispers. 'Let's wait for the moon to kiss the morning star.