Karrie Higgins

Disability March

The morning after the presidential election, I was lying in an MRI machine at the NIH Clinical Center in Bethesda, hypnotized by clang clang clang, like the drumbeats when I marched in the streets my last time in DC. Two weeks after 9-11, anti-war protest, surrounded by riot police in Edward R. Murrow park, paddy wagons parked on the periphery, me, Manic Pixie Epileptic Girl on high alert: seizures look like resisting arrest, motor deficits like non-compliance, like drunk or drugged or dangerous.

karrie_manic_pixie_epileptic_girl_2 Karrie wearing a long, red wig, lying naked in a white, tiled, walk-in shower as though she has fallen. On her legs: bruises. Pink disposable razors are scattered around her, and in the corner sits a pink suitcase. On the soap shelf sits a prescription bottle with the cap removed and lying next to it. White text overlaid on the image reads: Not Your…

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The Ring and the Bridle Chp. 10


[Image description: A black and white book cover entitled “The Ring and the Bridle”.  The cover has a border of Celtic knots. The title is surrounded by filigree. Below the title is a silhouette of a horse rearing.]

Eddie accidentally incurs the wrath of a kelpie when she save her older brother from drowning. Instead of finding help from the local magic community however she instead finds herself “being pulled three different ways”. By the old woman and her jinn who may have ulterior motives, the eternally young Scot with a guilty conscience, and most of all by the local enchanter who offers her a golden bridle to enslave her foe.

The choice however is hers alone.

“…I remember once standing on the edge of a pier and looking at the sun sinking into the ocean and thinking to myself…if only I could follow the sun to where it’ll rise next, and I would see every person in the world…”

She looked at him poignantly and wished he would look at her. She wished she could just see his face. Why wouldn’t he look at her? She pleadingly wrapped her arms around his arm. She just wanted to know one thing about him.

“Where are you?”

She collapsed into his arms in the dream of the staid sunset painted in violent crimsons, violets and oranges of memory and longing.

Chapter Ten at:

Ao3 | FictionPress