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To all the desk did Rock announce,
“I’m taking myself a bride!
Fair Paper shall my true love be,
And never leave my side.

“I’ll hold her, as her paperweight,
Her restlessness I’ll soothe.
She’ll wrap me in her soft, white form
And make my roughness smooth.”

But Scissor snapped her steel and cried,
“She does not love you true!
She’ll wrap you tight and hold you fast
And surely smother you.

“Oh, Rock, how do you not recall
The music we had made
Each time your roughness danced with me
And honed my singing blades?

“Be mine, my Rock, give me your strength
And I’ll make you a pledge:
It’s you alone whom I shall love,
Who need not fear my edge.”

But Rock would hear no more of this.
He said, “I spoke in truth.
And I’ll take Paper for my wife,
Who makes my roughness smooth.”

The wedding morning came, with vows
That bound the leaf and stone.
Rock beamed his love and sang his joy.
His bride beside him shone.

And Scissor watched, and Scissor wept,
But no one paid her mind.
When bride and groom embraced, she sighed,
“Was ever love so blind?”

The guests began to dance and sway
A fine and sweeping sight!
Around her husband Paper spun
And wrapped him up so tight.

Poor Scissor, she could bear no more
This cruel romantic lapse.
She fell upon her darling Rock
And cut his love to scraps.

“Remember what I was to you,
Remember now my pledge.
I’ll not lose you to Paper’s wiles.
She should have feared my edge.”

He took her by her handle red,
A coldness in his heart.
He smashed against her blades and hinge
And shattered her apart.

His spirit broken, doubly so,
Rock on his tears did choke.
He tossed himself from off the desk
And on the floor he broke.

To wastebasket were all consigned
That very afternoon.
Rock lay upon on his lover’s corpse,
With his beloved’s strewn.

’Til Paper rot and Scissor rust
They lie with Rock entombed.
Destruction sought, destruction found,
Three lovers sadly doomed.



Jessica Lévai has loved stories and storytellers her whole life. After a double major in history and mathematics, a PhD in Egyptology, and eight years of the adjunct shuffle, she devoted herself to writing full-time. Her first novella is a vampire romance written in Pushkin sonnets. Check out her website, JessicaLevai.com, for links and more.
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21 Sep 2022

There is little more inspirational than a writer who devotes her talents to the work of others.
I was twelve when my mother was born. Twelve or thereabouts. If I’d been older, I could have said things like I never wanted to be a daughter; I don’t have a filial bone in my body. Relatives could have tilted their heads at me, insisting I’d change my mind. But I was twelve so I said nothing. I had no relatives.
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