I'm sick.
I want to get a knife and cut open my stomach so I can scoop the bad stuff out.
I want to get a knife and cut off my eyelids, tracing around the socket's edge, because they feel so itchy and warm.
I want to go out in the rain in my pajamas and let the cold take away the ungodly heat.
So I did.
Yesterday, before work.
That might actually be why I'm feeling terrible again today. Totally worth it though. Now I'm looking out the window and just want to go roll around in the grass.

Here are some fever induced drabbles. I didn't wanna post 'em at first because stupid, but then I thought, it's a daylog. I can post anything I want in a daylog without feeling too bad because the only reason someone's reading this is because they actually looked up daylogs. It's the equivalent of going into your sister's room, reading the diary she left open on the bed, and then complaining about the poor quality of the entries. I should know, I've done exactly that before. In keeping with the spirit, these past two paragraphs were 100 words. Refrigerator magnet toothpaste.

* * * * * * *

A bird hatched from one of the eggs in the carton in the fridge. Its wings were made from thin slats of ice that resembled frosted glass. Inside it, white mist and cold air held it together.

He heard the noise it made and opened the door. As soon as he did, it went tearing through the house. They all chased it, trying to catch it with blankets and pillowcases.

In the end, it wound up flying into the glass slider door and shattering into a hundred crystalline pieces. The mist holding it together vanished.

The ice started to melt.

* * * * * * *

The bird people of Avion were all very pretty, and usually very kind, but they were not very bright.

When a couple found a lost little boy, they adopted him. Until he was thirteen, he was stuck in their floating city, unable to fly. Then he made paper wings and jumped off the edge.

The wings worked, but his parents were so sure he should've died that they acted as though he were a ghost.

Eventually, he decided to go along with it, pleasing his parents as now he wasn't a restless spirit, but the happy ghost of their son.

* * * * * * *

She went outside and found her brother in the garden, hiding in the bushes. She peeked in to see what he was up to.

"How're you doing that?" she said after a moment.

He looked up at her guiltily. "Doing what?"

She pointed at the blobs of light that were drifting out of his fingertips. They changed colors and shapes as they went, constantly morphing and growing larger as they went.

"Oh. I dunno."

They watched the lights float above their heads, through the leaves.

"Promise you won't tell mom?" he said.

"I promise."

The wind carried the lights away.

* * * * * * *

There was a new face in the mirror that morning.

The face was small and kind of pointy with slanty yellow eyes the same color as its hair. It was unquestionably a he. Odd, because last she checked she was still a she. She waved to the boy awkwardly.

"Uh. Hi."

He didn't wave back, but nodded at her. "Yo."

"What happened to my reflection?"

He shrugged. "She's out sick today. I'm her replacement. Just pretend I'm her."


"You gonna brush your teeth?" he said.

She shook her head and slowly backed out of the room. "Maybe not today."

* * * * * * *

The hall closet was screaming. Again.

There was nothing inside that could've been making the noise; she'd emptied it out earlier. So she banged around inside with a broom and cursed loudly until the closet shut up again, possibly from shock. The wail died down to a whimper, then silence.

She flicked the light off and closed the door.

The screaming began almost instantly.

She threw open the door. It stopped.

It occurred to her that the closet might be afraid of the dark.

"Fine," she said. She left the light on and closed the door.

The closet stayed quiet.

* * * * * * *

Around midnight, he heard the sounds of animals fighting in the backyard. He groaned and went to check.

For a split second, he saw the shape of a black panther tearing into the body of a bear. As soon as the porch light came on, though, there was nothing but a cat daintily licking blood off its paws.

He glowered at it. "What have I told you about bringing home bears?"

The cat ignored him. It trotted up to the porch and walked into the house, leaving bloody paw prints.He grumbled and closed the door. It was too early for this.

* * * * * * *

His shoulder's been itching all week.

At work, he tries desperately not to scratch his shoulders. If he does, they'll start to bleed again. At the stoplight while driving home, he presses himself into the seat and tries rubbing his back to alleviate the itch. It doesn't work.

When he finally gets home, he runs into the bathroom, pulls off his shirt, and checks the mirror.

The two scabbed spots are getting worse. He wonders if they're infected. It looks like something's actually growing there. He doesn't notice the tiny, downy feathers stuck to the bloodied inside of his shirt.

* * * * * * *

A new girl came to school, and she was the cutest necromancer I ever did see. But I was way too shy to talk to her.

Instead, I left a bunch of flowers on her desk during recess. She didn't like them, though, and threw them away. During lunch, I tried to give her my chocolate milk. She didn't want it.

Then during second recess, I found a dead crow.

I brought it to her and she smiled. We spent the rest of recess playing with the reanimated Mr. Caw.

What can I say? Girls like guys who like animals.