zoeaiko

zoeaiko

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Exact lines and curves make up her body, as if she were designed by a mathematician. Veins trace perfect geometric patterns beneath her pale skin.

plays

I've been betrayed by my people, I suppose. The connotations varied, from children with jump ropes on wood chips to the white lights over a black stage, plays have followed me throughout my years.

She lay prostrate on the sand floor of the temple, head bowed toward the shining deity at the front of the room. White columns lined the walls and a gentle breeze wound its way through them; as the winds tousled her long dark hair, she felt her prayers being carried up to wherever the gods may hear them.

My lantern flickered dangerously, casting a wavering light over the entirety of the damp hallway. The cobblestones, coated in a thin layer of film, threatened to hold fast to my flimsy sandals, but I was careful to tread lightly.

crew

"C'mon, crew!" said the woman in the strikingly yellow tee-shirt, a whistle and lanyard adorning her neck. The kids piled into a large yellow bus, upon which the letters S-C-H-O-O-L had been taped over and replaced with a large number six.

She cut the sandwich into a crescent, just the way her mother had cut hers when she was young. Sitting at the marble counter, feet swinging from the tall stool, she would ask, "Mommy, where are the stars?" Her mother would shake her head slowly, the corners of her lips curling ever so slightly, as she said, "Be happy with the moon, honey. Once you're a big girl, you can make the stars yourself."

adopt

Tiny brown eyes, large and watery, gazed up at her from the small basket on the floor. Three puppies snuggled in the wicker box lined with blue velvet, each with a tiny bow around their necks. The vague note gave little clue as to who had delivered the puppies to Sam, but she wasn't going to complain; how could anyone, with a box of free puppies on their doorstep?

The little girl donned the sheer butterfly wings, snapping the elastic bands over her shoulders. She sprinted through the house, pink socks skidding on hardwood floors, as her wings carried her through places she couldn't even imagine.

orbit

The bearded man droned on for what felt like hours. Jamie caught a snippet here or there about the orbit of the moon and other astrological nonsense, but he was preoccupied with the luster of the blonde hair of the girl two rows ahead of him in the lecture hall. She always arrived late, sitting in the same seat, and Jamie had never been able to see her face; however, he had spent days gazing into her lovely hair, watching as it cascaded down the smooth curvature of her back in graceful waves. Though he often stayed behind to converse with their professor after the lecture had been completed, the girl sped through the door as soon as the period ended. Today, Jamie resolved to follow her. The bell rang, and the girl swept her things into a bag on the floor. Jamie hadn't noticed the bag before, having been so captivated by her hair, but it was a thing of beauty in and of itself. Slung over her thin shoulders, the gray canvas had been decorated with some thousand intricate doodles, the residue of black Sharpie markers leaving their smudged trail across the fabric. Jamie jumped to his feet, swinging his backpack over his shoulders, and sped out the door. He followed the girl at a respectful distance, hoping that something small might fall out of the worn bottom of her bag and slip to the floor, allowing him to pick it up and approach her with purpose. However, no such opportunity arrived before the girl reached the bike rack outside of the massive brick building, duly unlocking her bike and riding away across the green. Jamie swore he had never seen such a graceful bike ride before, the girl's form moving ever further into the distance. Tomorrow, he thought to himself resolutely. Tomorrow.

Paper lanterns lined the garden, illuminating the grass in soft white. He gazed up, the reflection of the lanterns and the stars plentiful in his milky eyes; Cara put her hand on his shoulder, causing him to start suddenly. "You okay, buddy?" she asked, bending at the knees to reach his level. He nodded, and she mussed his light brown hair, which looked for all the world as if one could find a bird's egg lying in its midst. "Good, good." Cara straightened up, her white dress floating gracefully around her calves as her bare feet padded across the lawn, leaving Ethan to roll onto his back and immerse himself into the short, soft the blades of grass.

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writing since 2011 · 50 entries · 50 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Zoë showed up.

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50days written

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on this day 15 years ago

Zoë wrote about compassion
“Their fingers clasped together, full of nothing but the feeling. They were in it together, innocence alone among masses of strange bodies. Their eyes met, desperate yet comforting, a tentative smil…”

the words Zoë reaches for

eyesagainstfeethairhandwhitegirllightjamiebehindfaceyellowlinedfloorlaceyinside