Mackenzie Davis
Bio
“When you are describing a shape, or sound, or tint, don’t state the matter plainly, but put it in a hint. And learn to look at all things with a sort of mental squint.” Lewis Carroll
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Copyright Mackenzie Davis.
Stories (119/0)
Ultra Violet Augury
Of that purple light I was afraid. I crouched in the street, covered by shadows from a devilish star, weeping at the purity that was once my shoulders. White. I thought the parasols would illuminate the alleyways and passerby in variegated shades. I wanted to soak in those secrets. But they were white. I stood, burdened by their ironic diffuse.
By Mackenzie Davis11 months ago in Fiction
Dancing in Sunbeams
You called them angels, but I felt their weight as an avalanche burying my last breath. They froze me in their coverings, and as I stood, I watched you dance between. We were unreachable to each other in that moment. Your words trilled in the alleyway, “It’s like church in the street!” and my groans of pain sunk below your energy. How could such suspension polarize us like this? You leapt every minute or so until you caught a handle and I hunched over the prodding cobblestones. It was the last moment I saw you before they caught you up.
By Mackenzie Davis11 months ago in Fiction
Feet First
When the painting was uncovered, Theodore lost his breath for eleven seconds. “It will kill me,” he said. Nobody believed him, of course. The man was more dramatic than a soap. Yet he seemed magnetized to the canvas, examining it from every angle, even the floor, for weeks, convinced it was wrong.
By Mackenzie Davis11 months ago in Fiction