From 6bd6b9af0a0f3d32d32b7b75e4060d2a052d2c54 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Mon, 15 Feb 2021 23:24:58 -0800 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/hand-of-god.md | 8 +++++--- 1 file changed, 5 insertions(+), 3 deletions(-) diff --git a/writing/hand-of-god.md b/writing/hand-of-god.md index 9fa394e5..60ff5751 100644 --- a/writing/hand-of-god.md +++ b/writing/hand-of-god.md @@ -71,7 +71,7 @@ Sarai gestured to the bookmark, the etched letters on its surface. "That. Every She shrugged and handed it over. "Gift from my dad. We had a...complicated relationship, but he gave this to me before I left. Just a bookmark, probably from some tourist trap." -"'May the road rise up to meet you', huh?" The linguist looked as though she was on the edge of saying something snarky, but her gaze softened. "Go n-éirí an bóthar leat. It's Gaeilge. Irish. Supposed to be 'may your travels be successful', but someone messed up the translation ages ago, and we got this version." +"'May the road rise up to meet you', huh?" The linguist looked as though she was on the edge of saying something snarky, but her gaze softened. "*Go n-éirí an bóthar leat*. It's Gaeilge. Irish. Supposed to be 'may your travels be successful', but someone messed up the translation ages ago, and we got this version." "You know it?" @@ -105,7 +105,9 @@ Hands. Always hands. -Jude had tuned out, and some distant part of her was surprised to find that she had stood, that she had been pacing, that she had stopped and hunched and tensed, once more facing the outcropping. The outcropping of dead rock, new these last few months, resisting study and understanding. That finger pointing toward God. +Jude had tuned out, and some distant part of her was surprised to find that she had stood, that she had been pacing, that she had stopped and hunched and tensed, once more facing the outcropping. The outcropping of pale and dead rock, new and uncharted, growing these last few months. The rock that resisted study and comprehension. Resisted humanity, pushed it away with some dark sense of unwelcome. + +That finger pointing toward God. Elanna's voice broke through the compulsion. "You okay?" @@ -125,7 +127,7 @@ One by one they retreated to their tents and their own personal narratives diver Perhaps the others dreamed. Jude knew that she did. She lay on her camp pad and closed her eyes and there must have been some point at which she fell asleep, at which she crossed that border, but she was not aware of when. She was only aware of opening her eyes again and seeing before her her own face. -It was not a mirror, for the movements were not exact. It was another her. Another version of herself, and while it blinked as she might, and when she lifted her head, it lifted its own, the exactitude was imperfect. There were subtle differences. Their breathing was off by half a second, perhaps, or she was sweating more heavily than it. +It was not a mirror, for the movements were not exact. It was another her. Another version of herself, and while it blinked as she might, and when she lifted her head, it lifted its own, the exactitude was imperfect. There were subtle differences. Their breathing was off by half a second, perhaps, or she was sweating more heavily than it. It, like the outcropping, seemed to resist its own humanity. And when she reached out her hand to touch its face, it reached out its own to return the gesture, and, very specifically, moved its arm above her own so that they would not collide. Was that something that a reflection could do?