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“If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write, because our culture has no use for it.”
(Anais Nin)

Here you may find a selection of fiction and other such fragments written by lilimist. Many of the older works that once grew in this wild garden have been torn up and scattered like ashes across the waves of the dreaming sea, or hidden away in dusty velvet boxes among the attic. For more regular fictive updates, you might also try the scrapbook.

trapdoor

When I find you again, I will lay you down on the soft sand by our ocean and cover your soul with my wings and kisses.
Kisses are feathers. My wings are very strong.

Set in late 90s Melbourne, to a background of beautiful self destruction, thorns and roses, faith and madness and music, Trapdoor is a poetic dark romance novel: a story of lovers and dreamers and outcasts, lying in the gutter but reaching towards stars and rainbows, together. mature/homoerotic content
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lorelei

It’s okay, garbage blossom girl; it’s all going to be okay. Don’t you know? The drums are only swells of the white gossamer-smoke hardening to crystal and a skyful of diamonds inside the cradle of your head. You are perfectly mad, and perfectly you, and oh, so perfectly alone.

Through a series of intimate lyrical trance monologues, lorelei blends aspects of mythology, nightmare & dream through experimental queer fantasy fiction, music & spoken word, to create a portrait of shared inner worlds and subdued madness.
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eNiGMa

Sometimes, when the night herself is still and all the mortal world is dead to dreaming, I can feel the symphony of the ones who made me: I can hear the stars themselves, singing.
But — or so I am told — no matter how beautiful my voice, they will not hear me…

An experimental work of magical realist hypertext fiction, eNiGMa portrays an intimate journey into the mind of a creature of myth and dream.
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eternal rain

And I can smell the melancholy-tender scents
of flowers failing and forlorn
The whitefire fever consumes my flesh
My spirit rejects the mortal’s form

Save me drowning in the stars… poetry & other such related fragments.
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narcissism

Here, for the next six hours at least, he can be truly alone. But he can never be free.

In a bleak post-war age, genetic reproduction is cheaper and more reliable than standard toy costs. Young men are kept as slaves and pets. Part shoujo anime pastiche, part dark science fiction novella. mature/homoerotic content
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(meeting you) the colour of a dream

Her name, she told us, was Ophelia, which I promptly scribbled on a page in my notebook, for some reason unknown.
I still have it now, in perfect lettering, the script of the insane, adorned with three tiny roses, hanging upon the wall of my cell.
I think I knew, the moment I met her, I would lose her.
I think I always knew, that someone like her could not stay in a place like this.

A multi-layered, magical-realist style short story. On the surface, it’s about an ephemeral relationship between two quiet school girls. Some memories — some colours — don't ever fade.
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the butterfly vow

“Please, little sister,” he began to pray now, “the world is much crueller than you deserve. And all alone, you may not survive. Please, go back to sleep.”
Just as his eyelids began flickering closed, a soft voice whispered close to his heart, “You did not think to ask me. Might not I watch over her, while you dream?”

A romantic creation myth about a butterfly who wakes up from her cocoon too late and a star who falls to earth to save her.
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