Yours Truly, Jenny

I adjusted my jacket and moved the rear-viewing mirror to check my hair. My hands smoothed down the brown spikes and I stared at my light blue eyes for a moment.  With nerves in my stomach I cleared my throat and pushed open my car door.  

I looked at the home in front of me and began feeling giddy.  I had been abroad for the army for about six months.  I told Jenny I'd be home withing seven, so she wouldn't be expecting me.  

I felt my dopey smile fill my face and I adjusted my jacket once more before bounding up the stairs to our home.  

I felt the small box in my pocket and I closed my hand around it gently.  

With a deep inhale, I knocked on the door once.  Twice.  Two more times.  How many times was too much?  I'm not hearing anything, maybe another knock--

The door opened a crack, and I was met with a familiar pair of brown eyes.  Her hair was a lot shorter than it was; no longer falling behind her.  It framed her face gracefully.  

"Danny?"  The shock from her face drained, and I realized I was gripping the box now.  

"Hey Jenny."  My smile widened. 

"Danny, I--"  She half-laughed and fell into my arms, "I thought you weren't coming home for another month."  

I inhaled the soft lilac that coated her and squeezed her against me.  

"I wanted to surprise you, babe."  I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her arm length away to take her in. "You're so beautiful.  Oh my God, you're so beautiful."  I hugged her again.

She motioned me inside, "Come in, come in, oh you must be so tired."  Jenny wiped at her eyes and tugged me into our humble abode.  

Upon entering, I noticed everything was still the same.  The living room still had the old white leather couch, light wood coffee table and matching side tables.  The pictures above the fireplace were at the same angles and it felt the same.  It just felt the same.  Like home. 

That's when I noticed something different. 

"Hey, hon, where's--"  There was a excited yap and in a fluid motion a black blur whirled around the corner and into  my arms, "Luna!" The black lab nuzzled under my arms and sniffed me for what felt like forever, but that dog, my god, was the sweetest thing.  I played with her, letting her get out her whining and loving barks.  Finally she spun in my lap (with difficulty because she doesn't realize that she's not a puppy anymore.  In fact she's one of the largest dogs I've met, but she acts like a cat.  It really is the cutest thing.)  and rested her head on the ground. 

"Danny, when you left she got so sad.  She would stare out the window and just cry,"  Said Jenny as she leaned down to rub Luna's head.  "I'm surprised she didn't come out sooner, but she was sleeping.  So I think she assumed the door was just some random person."

I laughed, "What, you have a lot of random people coming over lately?"  

She squinted, "Just Lina and Jeff with their boys."  Her eyes widened, "They're expecting another!  Lina said she hopes it's a girl because all that testosterone is just consuming her femme fatale, also, my mother wanted to know when would be a good time to visit her and dad-- when you came back, but we don't have to decide anything right now as that would be-"

"Overwhelming?"  I interrupted while laughing.

She grew bashful and kissed my forehead, "Sorry, babe.  I know you just came home.  There's just so much to tell you and I missed you so much.  You got my letters, right?"

I nodded and reached for Jenny's hand, "I got them, read them, and held onto them every time I went out on duty."

She smiled with tears in her eyes. "Good."  Something caught her eye and her smile faltered, "Hon, why did you come back early?"

Luna turned on my lap onto her back, exposing her tummy.  I rubbed it as I explained, "I got shot on duty.  Went clean through my calf.  Hurt like a bitch- excuse me, it hurt a lot."  I corrected after her look of horror. 

"I don't care about you swearing, Daniel, I care about whether or not you're okay.  What-- how?  Are you okay?"  

I nodded, "I'm fine.  I was shocked when it happened and didn't realize it had happened because of the adrenaline state I was in.  A buddy stopped me and called in help.  I had to calm him down in order to tell me what was up."  I laughed again, but grew solemn, "He ah, he died while covering my ground when I was in emergency care.  Grenade."  My throat grew thick. 

"Danny... oh my god, I'm so sorry."  She pulled me against her, "I am so sorry."  I put my hand on her cheek and looked at her eyes. 

"It's okay.  I'm okay.  They discharged me and I am going to be looking for a therapist so I don't develop PTSD, or if I do have it then I can work through it."  I kissed her.  "I missed you so fucking much."  She laughed.

"Language, Danny."  We both sat there, hugging, kissing, talking, laughing, and every once in a while I ended up crying.  Or she would.  I told her stories about my travels and she told me about what had happened here.  

And we didn't notice how late it was until we saw the sun peeking through the window.  

We were exhausted physically, but mentally we were wired.  

So we went for a walk by the park.  See, it had this huge hill that let you watch both the sunrises and sunsets.  

And when the sun was high enough to bring tears to her eyes I went on one knee and pull out the tiny box. 

And when I opened it she cried. 

And nodded really aggressively. 

Like, I thought her head would topple off. 

And I put the small little ring on her fourth finger.  

And we fell asleep watching the sunrise. 

Tragedies

She sat on the wooden stairs leading to her home.
Her small fingers tapped the dark oak wood and she began clicking the toes of her Mary Jane's together.
She was so used to this place, for she grew up here.
Or, she grew up to her age now.
Which, seeing her short stature and little limbs, a person would assume she would be roughly eight years of age.
Which would be a proper assumption.
This little girl knew every nook and cranny within and outside of this house.
She knew the dark forest green paint chipped every summer and that he papa had to repaint it.
She knew that the wooden steps that she sat upon creaked no matter how little a person weighed.
She knew that when you walked through the bright white door you were hit by the steep staircase- also old dark oak, and when you got to the second floor and made an immediate right her room would be there.
She knew that if you decided to take a left there would be a bathroom.
And if you decided to keep going left there would be her parent's room.
She knew if you walked into the kitchen there was a loose floor board exactly six steps forward and three right, and under this floorboard was enough room for a little eight year old girl to hide during hide-and-go-seek.
She knew that in the endless forest backyard there was a 'cave' made out of logs and dead trees that she never did figure out how it was made before she--- ran out of time.
Her attention snapped away from her thoughts and she pulled the hand that was playing mindlessly with her long dark hair away from her face.
She never did find out what she looked like.  Oh no, see, mama had a belief about vanity evolving from when you were a young girl, so she wouldn't let her daughter look in any mirrors.
But her parents told her how lovely and cute she looked every day nonetheless.
Because compliments don't cause vanity.
She moved her hands from her sides to her dress, which was speckled with ash for some reason.
A reason she couldn't remember.  But she found it curious nonetheless.
The little girl's blue eyes looked in front of her now, as she watched a mother and father drive up to her home.
Curiosity spiked within her again as she watched the bug-looking car pull up the gravel road.
The car was a pale blue with silver trimmings.
She thought it looked rather boring.
Blue was such a common car colour at this day and age.
But maybe they'll make better cars with better colours.
Come on, Susan.  The man spoke.  She thought he looked rather dashing.  Slicked light brown hair with what seemed to be deep brown eyes.  Hm.  Handsome.  She had decided.
I'm coming, James.  Oh my... it really is in rough shape ain't it? The little girl decided the woman was Susan.
The little girl looked up at her house.  Rough shape?  Never.  The paint was just re-painted and everything seemed to have an unearthly pale glow to it.
She looked back to Susan and James. Susan seemed to hobble from the car, and as soon as she got on her feet she caressed her bulging stomach.
She was pregnant, the little girl decided.
She was a very pretty pregnant woman.  Her dark blond hair was braided into a bun and even though the little girl couldn't see Susan's eyes due to the large bulbous glasses she was wearing, she decided her eyes were as blue as the darkest pits of the sea.
She clicked her Mary Jane's.
Well the family before us... well I told you already.  It was devastating.  This was James.
Susan cleared her throat, I am not too sure about this, darling.  It could be haunted. 
But James scoffed and held out his hand for his darling wife and led them up to the oak stairs leading to the little girl's home.
 They paused, admiring the home.  The little girl watched them.
Susan was much prettier up close.  She had fleshy pink lips that seemed a bit too large for her face and a petite nose that kept her sunglasses up snobbishly.  But she was a very pretty woman, the little girl decided.
It'll take some work hon, but my gosh will it be worth it. James was glowing now.
Susan gasped suddenly, reaching to her stomach.
What is it?  What's wrong?  Is the baby okay? James lurched towards her, bringing her close to his body.
Susan's sunglasses fell off.
The little girl lifted the corners of her lips.  Her eyes were as blue as the darkest depths of the sea.
Black.
Yes, yes... it was just flailing.  Oh James, I don't know about this.  I feel really uneasy.  Like someone is watching us... As Susan said this she looked at the little girl sitting in front of her.
The little girl looked at her ebony irises.
And didn't blink as the woman and the man walked up the steps through her after the man cooed her into entering the home.
But when the little girl did blink and look at her home, the dark green paint was splattered with broken windows and beams that had collapsed.  The pristine exterior was black and burnt up.  The roof had half fallen off, leaving a large wooden rubble pile on the side of the house.
The little girl stood up slowly.
And she looked at her home.

A bright flash crossed her eyes and suddenly she was in her light blue nightgown, sleeping in her bed with light blue bed sheets.
She was very calm.
She was wide awake.
She heard it first.
A strange crackling that was unfamiliar to her, but familiar at the same time.
It was loud.
She shuffled out of her bed after pulling the covers off of her.
She leaned her ear against her ivory door and listened.
It was loud.
Carefully, in a confused state, she opened her door.
And was hit by a thick billowing column of smoke.
Startled, she leaped back, not shutting her door fully.
She could see the bright red flames licking the wooden floor.
And she realized why it sounded familiar in its unfamiliar state.
It sounded like the fireplace at Christmas time.
The little girl smiled a bit then, thinking about Christmas.
How, she won't get Christmas this year.
But how she hoped her mama and papa would get one.
She went to the wall furthest from the door and slid down it until she had her head in her lap.  She was coughing a lot now, as though her lungs were burning.
She was getting tired now, and the room was spinning.
The little girl brought her head against the wall, staring at the whirling ceiling.
It was a pretty ceiling.
A pretty home.
Her pretty home.
Then she saw a glint of something, and noticed the window.
Why hadn't she thought of the window?
She opened her mouth, only to be greeted by the smoke.
She was really warm now.  She had a thick layer of sweat consuming her.
She tried to get up, placing her hands on the floor to push her up.  But her arms gave and her knees buckled, and she lay on the floor.  It felt so cool.  She wondered if it would cool her down.
Her cheek was on the dark oak floor, and she could see the flames licking the ground around her.
She was hurting a lot now, she knew what was happening and she wanted it to end now.
She was closing her eyes now, thinking about how thirsty she was.
She tried to mover fingers.  It hurt, but she still had them.  They still moved.
And as she fell asleep she closed her hand around her pretty home.

Another flash crossed her vision.  She parted her lips, and she noticed how she wasn't thirsty anymore.
As the couple opened the door she could see the stairs stained black from the fire that hurt her.  From the fire that hurt her home.
She felt attachment, but understood what happened and understood what was to happen next.
She was closing her eyes, picturing her pretty home with the dark green paint and dark oak floors and light blue decor.
And she thought about her mama and papa and knew where they were they were okay.
...What did they do with the... bodies? Susan's high pitched voice broke her thoughts.  And she kept her eyes open long enough to hear James' reply.
The mother and father were saved in time, but the little girl-- Viola, the fire damaged the way to her room.  They couldn't get her in time.  They say she died from carbon monoxide poisoning before she was... too injured.
Viola felt herself smile and she closed her eyes.
Mama and papa have another Christmas.

Your Story

There are so many possible stories that occur throughout your life.
Possible choices that lead to possible relationships,
Possible relationships that lead to possible romances,
Possible romances that lead to possible loves,
Possible loves that lead to possible lives.
And each choice you make
Shifts the new outcome.
For instance,
Deciding to take a leap of faith and saying hello to someone
you for some reason find intriguing.
Even
If
You
Don't
Know
Them.
The scariest part though isn't asking them how their day was, oh no this is easy.
The scary part is seeing their response.
From how their faces will either light up or grow bored,
From the way they shuffle their feet or clear their throats.
You only have so much power.
Half the power.
They carry the other half, even though it feels like they carry all the power.
You both need to step forward.
And even that is a new possible story.
Another story is if you step forward and they step back.
Or they step to you but you pull down a veil.
The hardest part is accepting who you are for them to accept who you are.
The hardest part is very similar to the scariest part,
But the hardest part is what you do rather than what they do.
But this is the mentality portion.
You have to build up the courage to force yourself to step forward.
You have to remind yourself to breathe and to stop shaking.
That's the hard part.
But the best thing about this story
Is the story itself.
The build up to events,
The reactions they give.
The best part is going to bed at night feeling waves of content and overriding joy fall asleep with you into pale dreams of a happiness you never thought you would have at this time two, three years ago.
The best part is that the story you are in is your story.
It is intriguing and scary and hard.
But my god,
It's beautiful.

The Chapel

She walked through the doorway, a smile lingering on her her lips.
"You're late."  His calm voice echoed through the empty house.
She stepped into the kitchen, gently folding her hands in front of her.  She felt the soft fabric of her dress and inhaled the smell of the forest.
"At least I showered."  She replied playfully.
The man walked into the light.  His jet black hair was greased back, and even though he was wearing a suit, she could see the dirt stains on his hands.  They watched each other for a moment before he rose his hand slowly, and closed the space between them.
In a fluid motion he brushed a stray curl away from her face, "You look lovely, Vi."
Her smile only widened, "Are you ready, Jackson?"
He didn't reply quickly, instead he stepped back and took her in.
Vi's smile began to falter, but before she could begin to doubt herself he grabbed her hands.
"I've been ready for a long time."
In the quiet house, they held still.
Jackson led her to the door, and they walked down to their small town car.  He waited for her to get comfortable in her seat before he shut the door and moved to the driver's seat.
The drive was quite.  Comfortable.  Vi watched the trees soar past them as they made their way to the building.  She tried to count how many trees they passed, but lost count almost right away.
They didn't turn on the radio, but instead listened to one another's heart beat.
It felt like a moment, but it took them half an hour to get there.
He pulled up and they sat there.  Comfortable.
He then turned to her and leaned to kiss her cheek.  He paused to inhale her perfume.  It was a mix of lilacs and fresh, light air.
As he pulled away he muttered, "I'll see you soon, darling."
Jackson exited the car, only to stop to pull her door open to let her out.  But she waited in the car for several moments until the man was inside the white marble building.
Vi squeezed her fingers, and let her right forefinger linger on the small, thin band that wrapped around her left ring-finger.
She smoothed out her dress and stood out, into the wind.
Vi pulled her little purse out in front of her, and pulled out a small, compact mirror.  She rose it to her face and began fixing minor make-up mistakes.  She smoothed out her kohl eye-liner, re-applied her deep red lipstick, and pinched her cheeks for a rush of red.  Then she fixed any dark stray hairs by tucking them back against her head into the already made bun.
Then she walked into the hauntingly beautiful building, and saw the man with dark slicked back hair standing at the very end of the aisle, staring at her with a slim, silent smile.
By the time she took a step forward she understood.
She was never late.

A Strange, Beautiful Dream

I have a lot of dreams.
Weird dreams.
Not ones that take place in the supermarket and the can I'm looking at is for fish children.
Oh no.
It's like I'm in a different life from a different universe.
I think that's why I believe my body is sleeping but my spirit goes to a different dimension.


I was packing because I was visiting a home, and it was time to leave.  There was a boy there around my age who was getting on my nerves, and I knew I had to talk to him before I left.  When I got to his room to get my bag (I was staying in his room seeing as there were two beds, three actually, but I'll get to that) and he was sitting on his bed reading.
When I opened the doors his eyes flicked up and went back to his book.  I said meekly that I came to finish packing.  He didn't respond until I started packing.
"Do things ever confuse you?"  He put the book down.
"Yes, all the time, really."  I was unzipping my bag to put in clothes.
"Aiya, what if something were to happen?  Whether you're on the streets or not... or, here's a better example,"  He scooted closer to me, "If I were to kiss something, someone, or you, what would happen?"  His face was getting closer and he repeated himself, "If I were to kiss something, someone or you..."  My eyes were fluttering shut and dammit!  I couldn't open them!  I wanted to see this!  Why can't I open them! I felt his breath get closer and my opened slightly enough to see his lips.  I felt a soft, beautiful pressure on my cheeks, and after a moment he pulled away.
I was almost disappointed he didn't kiss my mouth, but I was so wonder-stuck I still. Couldn't. Open. My. Eyes.  I was getting embarrassed.  Finally I got them open and he was smiling at me.

The scene switched to us laying in bed (No, we didn't do anything, I knew that much)  We were simply holding each other, sometimes kissing.  But I knew I had to pack.  So I told him that, and began to get up.
He asked if I had to.
"Aiya, please."
But I tilted my head and said, "When I'm done we don't have to stress about anything."

Now, I know I said my dreams get weird, and this doesn't sound weird.  It sounds normal.  This isn't.  First off, I can't speak to guys I like.  I feel like I'm annoying them, so I wait for them to talk to me- which is sometimes.  Second, we haven't got to the weird part.

Suddenly there were bangs on the door, and he jumped out of bed in a fury, panic swept through me as I got so very confused as to what was happening.  Two ghost girls appeared (I knew they were dead because I just knew)  and hugged me.  The scene changed to a train.  We were all in a train, and the man banging at the door (I knew he was a man because he was banging on glass doors) was still trying to get in.
There were a lot of us now; me, the boy, the two ghost girls (Who lived in the bedroom with their brother before they died of a sickness, again, I just knew this)  as well as a few of my family members and closest, oldest friends.
The boy gave us this tube and told us to put it on our teeth.
Ha. Ha.  We did it without second thought.
The man was still banging, oh gosh it was scary and intense and crazy.
When we put the paste on our teeth, the green paste made our teeth- guess which colour-- Green!
We were all so confused, and the train wasn't moving but we knew we would get to our destination.
The boy who kissed me pulled me off to the side and I asked, "What's going on (I said his name, but it blurred out in the dream.)?"
He hugged me and said, "Magic and Natural power go against one another."
And then I looked at the man on the opposite side of the glass door holding a laser pen, trying to get in.  And it was melting through the glass.
Ohhhh.  It made sense now.  The boy had some kind of power (Probably intense charisma, but I never find out) and the man uses magic!  And they're enemies!

The dream ends with the boy giving us new tubes of paste to make our teeth white again, but the colour is bright, glowing white-- like when Ross bleaches his teeth.


If you've been on my blog before, you know my name is Emily.  In dreams I've never told my name to anyone, and it felt like it was me.  But in this dream, I not only told him my name, but I said my name was Maiya.  Not only was that weird, but I was given a nickname in it-- Aiya.
This is the real reason I wanted to write down this dream, because this has never happened to me before with my memory.  I thought it was incredible.
Thanks for reading, you lovely soul,
-Emily

A Hunger Games Excerpt

I don't know why I was excited for this.  I mean, I was ecstatic for it, really I was.  But when it started I... felt something was wrong.
This wasn't right.
But what did I have to lose?
________________________________

Journal entry 209

Mum is sick again.  I don't know how she'll fair from being hit with such a strong illness a few weeks ago.  She's still so frail, and father can't take care of her because he's been taking his week long trips into the mountains for supplies.  He left four days ago for a strong strain of minerals so he can clear mum's system, but he won't be back for several more nights.  I'm doing all the house caring right now, including taking care of  the chickens and horse.
It was hard to clean the grass today because it was raining s'much.  It made me want to hop on Ringer and trot gracefully into the clouds.
Mum said I need to stop all this dreaming nonsense because when I get out into the real world I can't take time for petty, unrealistic dreams.
The rain made me feel like she was right.

________________________________

Journal entry 210

Mum's getting worse.  It's only been two nights since I last wrote, and I can clearly see her veins.  It's scaring me because when I went out to groom Ringer, he had this pasty film over his eyes and he seemed very upset.  He kept stomping and shouting, he actually bit his tongue almost clean in half.
The rain hasn't stopped.
________________________________

Journal entry 211

Oh I have amazing news!  I was in the village square today, and one of the government officials was talking to the towns people asking if we would want a way to help our starving and pain.  What a stupid, stupid, stupid question.  Of COURSE we don't want to suffer any more!  We all signed an official form asking for help, and he said he's send for the event right away.  Everyone is prepping and getting oh so excited, oh my goodness I have to stop writing about this event because I have amazing news about mother.  When I was in the village, the man spoke to me privately and asked how my life was.  I went on t' tell him how my mum was very sick and how I would love to talk to him, but I needed to go take care of her.  Then he asked me a strange question.  He asked me if I loved her.  I remember tilting my head confused, like he was telling one of those strange jokes that teenagers didn't get, but his expression stayed blank.  I nodded.  Then he gave me a vile after I explained what was wrong with her, and I thanked him so terribly much and ran off to mum.
I told her about the medicine, and how a government official gave it to me, but she refused to take it.
She always hated the government, so I knew she'd say no.
But I planned for that.
When she was asleep on the couch, I injected her.  She didn't even know, nor did she wake up from it.  She looks so peaceful.
________________________________

Journal entry 212

I got a letter today.
From father's partner.
Dad isn't coming home.
________________________________

Journal entry 213

I feel like a piece of my heart has been torn off.  Daddy fell from the signal tower placed at the mineral station.  It's set up there for emergency use, and I can't think why he'd ever have to use it.  His partner, James, said that father was spooked because he thought he saw a strange shadow, so he rushed up the ladder, but when he almost got to the top, the ladder somehow shattered, and father's head split against the rocks.
I love him so much.  Daddy, I love you so much.
And mum is acting strange.  She's been sleeping on and off, barely eating anything.  I think her body is just replenishing herself.  She asked if I injected her, and I had to lie to her.
I checked on Ringer today and I had to call an animal caretaker to put him down.
He chewed off his own legs.
________________________________

Journal entry 214

Everyone gathered in the village today to talk about what was going to happen with rations and healthy living standards.  Things are changing.  I'm experiencing a major change!  I feel like I'm on air.
________________________________

Journal entry 215

Mum is sleeping a lot more now.  I haven't seen her open her eyes for over a day.  I'm worried, I can't lose her too.  I hope the medicine is helping her fight off this disease.
_________________________________

Journal entry 216

She didn't make it.  I called for help too late.  I went to wake her to eat, but she wasn't responding.  I was screaming at her.  Wake up, I said, mum don't leave me!  But when I ran for help, the doctor said she had been dead for two days.  I haven't noticed that her illness got so extreme.  Why didn't the medication work?  Why have I lost everything I've loved?  Father, Ringer, Mum.  I can't live here anymore now, the house costs too much too keep up by myself.  I have plans to be married off soon so I can have finances.  I don't know who yet, though.
I've let my family down.
I've let myself down.
________________________________

Journal entry 217

They're calling it 'The Hunger Games'.  The event that should help out our societies.  They're taking two people from each land plot and calling them separate divisions.   I don't know why they've split Panem like this, but I know live in district twelve.  They recently moved all the chickens and animals to a different district.  District two, I think.  Since we're near the mountains we focus on coal mining now.
They pull two people tomorrow.
A boy and a girl.
I hope it's me.
I want to help my people.
_______________________________

Journal entry 218

It happened.  So many girls were too young to enter, so there were only twenty names to pull.  I got pulled! As well as a boy whom I'm unfamiliar with.  Chase something.  Crawfoot? I think Crawfoot.
I'm so excited, we get to go to the Capitol tonight.  We get to drink and dine and dance tonight.
We aren't going to starve anymore.
_______________________________

Journal entry 219

We are allowed to bring two things with us into the event.  I'm choosing my journal and charcoal.  I want to be able to read what I have written as well as write what happens.  Chase is bringing a hairband for his hair (it is quite long and shaggy blond) as well as a pouch of pebbles.   I don't know why.
We drank so much last night, I think I've gained weight.  It feels so nice to be full.
________________________________

Journal entry 220

Tomorrow's the big day, oh gosh I'm so excited.
Mum, father, you're in my prayers.
________________________________

I don't like this.  I hate this, I'm scared and confused and don't know why they've set this up.  There's cannons going off, I think people are attacking each other I don't know why oh god I'm so confused.  Chase lunged at me before heading to the centre.  There was this large pile of objects, they looked sharp and scary and I couldn't run there.  I can only hear the announcer's voice saying that this is the first ever Hunger Games, and that the target is to take out our opponents, and the last man standing wins eternal happiness and riches and oh my god I can't kill people.  I can't kill people.  I can't kill people.  I can't kill people.
I ran away from the centre.  It's all rocks and trees.  I fell down a cliff and I think I dislocated my shoulder.  It hurts so much to move, but I can still wright.  I had to bite my cheek, but I put it back.  It hurt so much.  I never felt a physical pain so badly before.
I hid for a while today, and when it got to be sunset I ran to the centre to see if someone left anything behind.
There were so many bodies.
Clutching things.
Knives.
Swords.
Darts.
I grabbed the darts because I was hoping they only knocked people out.  Then I grabbed a bag that was filled with stuff in it, looted through pockets finding a pocket knife, lighter and compass.
But the compass doesn't work.  It flies around everywhere and never stays still.
I'm afraid to sleep.
I'm in a rock nook right now.
I can hear screams and cannons.
But they aren't screams of pain.
They're screams of rage.
_______________________________

I slept on and off through the night.  Every cannon shot jerked me awake.  At around midnight images of all that were killed filled the sky with our anthem music.
Why are they doing this?  How does this help?
I've been walking around quietly now.  But I think someone's been following me.  I hear their steps.  Right now I hear their steps.
I don't know why I was excited for this.  I mean, I was ecstatic for it, really I was.  But when it started I... felt something was wrong.
This wasn't right.
But what did I have to lose?
I'm trying to run now, but my writing is getting messy,
OH-

Amen.

It seems like humanity is lost.
That's heard pretty often from people, yeah?
But every once in a while something will happen that will make your heart feel like a bit of gold is shining on it.
Like there's so many good people out there.

A year or so ago, I wasn't feeling great.  None of my friends were at school that day, I felt alone, depressed and hopeless. It was cold outside, and air helps calm my mind, so I decided I'd go outside in the cold to cry, since no one would be out there.
I was contemplating ditching out the rest of the day, just go home.  Don't even grab my bag, just go.  That's what I was thinking.  And I was going to.
I don't necessarily believe in a god.  I'm spiritual.  And before you glare at your computer screen, whip out the holy water and spray this technology while verbalising the Holy Bible and chanting what a sinner I am, hold up.  Just, fucking stop for a second.
When I was in such a state of despair, I kid you not, a shadow fell across my feet.
Empty field.
Empty courtyard.
Just me.
And as I looked up, clearly upset, I see a dark figure with the sun beams wrapping its edges so clearly she looked like an unearthly being.
I tried to stop crying.
I feel embarrassed crying in front of people.
But this girl, as she bent towards me, sitting down next to me, didn't speak.
I knew her vaguely, she was a yer ahead of me and in my drama class.  I also knew her sister, and I knew that both of them moved from Nigeria a year prior- for her sister and I got along in the classes we had together.  I didn't know either of them though.  But these girls... I can honestly say I've never met two purely whole people that cared so deeply about others.  I consider myself a caring person, but to plants, animals and a few people who I feel deserve it.  This is why I always carry change when I take the train, so if someone needs some, I can say yes.
I'll call this girl Renee.  Yeah... that's pretty, like her soul.  She didn't say anything, but turned her head to me and asked quietly, "Is it okay if I pray?"
I'm not against religion.  I love it.  I love hearing about it.
I loved that she asked this. I nodded and tried to smile.  She bowed her head, her black hair covering her face, and I can hear what she's saying.
"Dear God, I am praying to you for this beautiful heart, for she is feeling ill right now.  And I'm going to tell you why she deserves to feel better.  She deserves to feel better because she has had the sorrow for more than any person should feel.  I know this may be needed of her, but please, please take the pain away for a bit.  Please let her feel healed for a long while before she has to face what is hurting her so.  If you've truly seen her as everyone has, you'd see how she needs a break.  Just a break.  Amen."
And she sat with me for a bit, before she tugged at her scarf and put her hand on my shoulder.
"Emily, please know that you'll be in my prayers."
And she left.
I think that's one of the last times I saw her.
But my gosh, that is one of my most treasured moments.
So when you see a homeless man or woman on the street, and they're asking for change- or they're not- either way, maybe give them what you have, no matter what they use it to buy, just giving them something can make them feel that same glow, that same love and thanks.
It's an idea.
But maybe,
humanity isn't as lost as we think it is.
Maybe we're just looking in the wrong places.

Evermore

I remember everything about him.  His green eyes.  His soulful fucking eyes.  I hated them.
I hated how he would hold my hand so tenderly, as though he would break me.
I hated how he would brush his nose against my neck, making my knees become fuzzy and frail.
I hated how he would be talking so excitedly while walking ahead of me, and then he would turn his head over his shoulder, grinning crookedly at me.
I hated how when his life became so hectic he told me to let him sink.
______
 
      "Vi?"  His soft gaze tried to meet mine.  But I refused to look at him with tears clouding my vision.  He pulled his large hands around my small ones, "Please."
     I forced myself to look at him.  But  I could only reach his shaggy brown hair.
     "Let me drown."  He was whispering.  "Let me drown, and eventually I'll be able to swim to the surface and see you on the shore."
     My teeth were clenching.  "Let me help."  He smiled sadly.
     "This is something you can't help with."
     "You haven't let me try!"  I leaned forward, squeezing his hands desperately.
     And then he brought his mouth to my forehead.  And he rested there for several moments.  Just before he pulled away he murmured, "I love you.  I can't let you be hurt."
     I sneered, "How ironic."  I pushed away, whipping my hands out and away from him.  And I rushed out of his flat, into the busy California streets.  It was colder than usual, so I tugged my wind breaker tight around me, not knowing whether my trembling was from him or the wind.
And I walked away.
______

Years ago, when he and I had just met, we were sophomores at an uptight private school.  We didn't have any classes together, but his and my lockers were right next to each other.  So each day, we would be at our lockers and we would say hello.  Every day.  For the entire year.
I never thought of him as anything other than an acquaintance until he approached me during the first week of junior year.  His hair was really long, licking the base of his jaw and swept up away from his eyes.  It looked messily beautiful.
     He leaned his hands against the outdoor table, an odd gleam in his eyes that matched the crooked grin plastered to his face.
     "Violet, right?"    He wore a deep red t-shirt with a high v-neck.  But I couldn't stop staring at his eyes.  They were such a clear, dark green.  I had never seen something so amazing.
     I nodded, stiff with surprise.
     "We had lockers next to each other last year."
     I nodded again.
     He stood up straight, adjusting his shirt to fall against the rim of his navy black jeans.  "Zaylen."          He coughed slightly, a pink blush sweeping under his eyes.
     I nodded, unsure what to say.
     He cleared his throat, "Any ways, I was invited to this party," He waved his hand, "Or get together or something..."  He caught himself, "And I thought, I dunno.  If you wanted to come, I could introduce you to some people."
     "Are you saying I don't know any one?"  I spoke before my mind could stop myself.  I winced at how mean I had sounded.  He seemed unfazed as his grin returned.
     "No- no, it's just..."  He glanced to the side and leaned in, "Everyone talks about you, but I barely see you with anyone."  His endless eyes stared into my own, "So you should meet everyone who is talking about you."  Zaylen shrugged his hand into his front jean pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper.  As I opened my mouth in protest he unfolded the lined paper.  "My phone number, the party's address and the password to enter."  He moved the paper towards me like a bribe, "This Friday, ten o'clock.  When you get in call me and I'll meet up with you."
     "What if I'm busy this Friday?"  I inquired as I rose my dirty blond eyebrows.
     "Well you are."  He tapped the paper, "You're coming to a party and you will hang out with me and you will have a great time."  Before I could respond he began walking away, and that was the first time he looked over his shoulder grinning wildly, "See you Friday, Vi!"
______

I hated how when I met up with him he placed his hand flat against my shoulder blade.
I hated how coolly he introduced me to every one.
I hated how he brought me drinks with the cap sealed tightly and unopened.
I hated how he shoved some guy who was intoxicated off of me.
I hated how he didn't drink anything, and how he got me home safely.
I hated how when he stopped the car he leaned across the arm rest and brushed his lips so gently across my cheek that it felt like a rose petal.
I hated how he told me he'd call me so we could hang out again.
I hated how I nodded dumbly and said yes.
I hated how he made it seem like he cared about me.
______

Zaylen didn't formally ask me out until we had hung out a total of nine times.  He explained to me, that proper etiquette was to wait until we had met up the same amount of times as his favourite number.
     "For good luck."  He said smiling.
     I said yes.  And we went to parties.  And we stayed at his place.  And we toured around Cali.  We went to the beach almost everyday, running into the endless waves and falling back into the velvet sand.
     There we lay one day, huffing and out of breath.  We were on our backs, staring up at the pale pink setting sky.  I turned my head and looked at him.  God, I loved looking at him.  He had tiny water droplets that lay on the tips of his thick black eyelashes.  He blinked and turned to me.  But there was something different.  He looked at me, and it felt like he was placing a blanket around me.  I felt secure.  We had been together for almost a year.  But it felt like I wasn't caring about him less, but intensely more.
     "I'm in love with you."  I didn't see his lips move, but his low voice echoed through my ears.  He and I had told each other we loved one another a few months ago, but to hear that he was in love... I felt it.
     Zaylen and I stared at each other, and he didn't give me a look as though he was expecting me to say it back.  But I did.  I said it so many times.
______

Senior year took us by surprise.  College applications had to be going out, parents were fumbling and being melancholic about how they'll miss their kids.  I had already said goodbye to my parents because Zaylen had convinced me to move in with him in a new apartment.
     We went through school focused, but coming home to him gave me such euphoria, that I couldn't believe how much I loved him.  I loved Zaylen so much that it physically hurt.  My heart would race, my stomach would churn, and my legs were immobile.
     But he was there to catch me.
     He always caught me.
______

After a few months, he would get home and be quiet.  He wasn't eating as much and sleeping more.          He had permanent black lines under his eyes, and he never seemed energetic.
     We still went on walks, but his excitement for life seemed drained.
     We sat on the dock on a Sunday.  I remember it being a Sunday because I pointed to the horizon, trying to cheer him up.  "As the last bit of sun fades into the horizon, Sunday becomes Monday."
     He tried to smile.  He really did.  But it seemed fractured.  He kissed my temple.
     When he got back to the apartment, he sat down on the love seat.  As I was about to go to the bedroom he called me.  "Vi."  He sounded weak.
     I remember freezing.  I was scared suddenly.  I knew something was happening.
     "Can you come sit down, Vi?"  Zaylen's voice cracked, and I hesitantly moved towards him.
     I sat about a foot away from him, but he shuffled closer to me.  His long hair strung in front of his eyes, and he seemed to fade out looking at the carpet.  I pulled his hands onto my lap, and I brushed my thumb across the back of his hand.  He squeezed my hand with reassurance, and looked up in response.
     "I did what you asked."  I blinked, not understanding what he was talking about.  He nodded his head slightly, "Therapist."  A wave of realization shot through me as he continued, "To try to feel better.  It's kind of working.  Sometimes.  I don't know.  They're going to be letting me try different medications."  I was crying suddenly.  I don't know why.  To hear his pain was so hard.  It felt like I was being torn apart.  "There are times where I feel better, but then it gets worse for a bit.  They said it's normal, but it's just hard."  His green eyes looked at me.
______

I hated how he wouldn't let me try to help him.
I hated how I couldn't understand why he was sad.
I hated how he couldn't explain it.
I hated how helpless I felt.  How I feel.
I hated how hopeless he was.
______

It was a few weeks after he told me he was seeing so many people about his struggles.  He thought that we should get a dog.  That maybe something love-able and cuddly would help.  I agreed completely.  She was a Finnish Spitz crossed with husky, and the tiniest pup you could imagine.  She was the runt, but Azzy was the sweetest dog that we could have hoped for.  She made Zaylen smile more.  And he was willing to take her on walks.  But the time with me was minimal.  I would offer to come, or to take her for a walk alone, but he insisted differently.
     After a few more weeks he became distant from Azzy as well.  Our attempt was beginning to fail.  That's when he sat me down again.  And this time he told me he was leaving.  That he needed an intensive therapy program where he would live for a few months.
     I knew it was coming, but I didn't stop crying that night.  I was also crying in my dreams.
______

I hated how he hugged me, and told me he loved me as he walked away with his suitcase.
I hated how he didn't want me to see him for several weeks.
I hated how the doctors and nurses didn't let me talk to him.
I hated how I got used to Zaylen not being in the apartment.
I hated how I felt abandoned, when he was the one struggling so terribly.
______

He was right when he said he'd be there for more than a few months.  I finished school and began prepping for a University I got accepted to.
     I began seeing my parents more,  They lived in the same gray blue house, with the same beige carpet.  As my mother handed me a teacup filled with steaming green tea, my stomach dropped into a pit of guilt.
     She sat next to me on the large floral couch, resting her free hand on my knee as she held her own cup with the other.  "Tell me, Vi, how have you been?"
     And I talked to her.  I told her about how painful it was without him.  How he changed, and how I want him to get better.  How I want my Zaylen back.  We spoke for hours, tears emerged from both of us.  Laughter bubbled from both of us.  Daddy didn't get home until around dinner, so I stayed with them that night.  A constant warm comfort stayed with me.  Even as I strode up the staircase into my old bedroom, which was now the guest room.  I was now a guest.
______

The first time I visited Zaylen, a dense silence filled the space between us.  I didn't force him to speak.  I didn't give idle chit chat.  So we sat, studying each other.  Finally he reached over to me, slowly placing his hand on top of my thigh.
     His green eyes sparkled, "I'm going to be discharged in about a month, Violet." I wanted to smile, to hug him.   To expel all the relief that had seized up inside of me.  But that's what it did.  It froze inside of me.  And I couldn't tell him how my insides twisted with joy, how my heart began thumping as though it hadn't for the past four months.  But he squeezed my thigh to tell me he understood.  He always understood.
______

When he was released from the hospital, I ordered dinner so we could have a calm evening at home.  We sat on the couch quietly, and I felt odd for a reason I couldn't pin point.  And when we went to bed it felt odd to have him by my side.
     When we got up in the morning it felt odd.
     When we went out it felt odd.
     And I couldn't figure out why.
______

When he told me to let him go, so he could fix himself, I did.  And I didn't hate him for it.  I hated myself.
     Everything I hated about him, I only hated myself for enjoying it.
     I hated myself because when Zaylen had gone away for the five months, I had gotten used to the creaking of the apartment.  I had gotten used to cooking for one.  I had gotten used to walking Azzy alone.  I had gotten used to being alone.
     And in that time, I had fallen out of love with him.
     The boy I was head over heals in love with, the boy who stole my heart at fifteen, who was my first love, was just that.  My first love.
      And I hated that I had torn that love a part.
______

He knew.  He could tell.  And I saw the hurt in his eyes every day until I kissed him goodbye.  I kissed Azzy goodbye.
     And as I know now, the time I had with Zaylen was magical.
______

I remember everything about Zaylen.  His hair, eyes, mouth, clothing, vocabulary, favourite food, favourite joke.  Favourite everything.
______

I remember when he took me out on the roof and we lay and stared at the fireworks exploding and popping above us.
______

I remember how he blushed when he bumped his hand against my thigh for the first time.
______

I remember his tiny freckles at the base of his neck.
______

I remember, but I will not let these memories consume me.  I loved him.  I always will.  And I love all the memories we had and made.
     But I'm not in love with him anymore.
     Even though I wish I was.
______

I don't know where he is anymore.  We stayed in touch for a month or so.  Then we kind of parted.  Not in a negative way.  In a way that said "I love you, and thank you."  The beautiful thing about first loves, is that that is simply what they are.  First.  That doesn't mean the last.   And as I, Violet Hatcher write this, I can tell you that I have fallen in love three times.  One, with Zaylen Daniels.  Two, with Azzy Daniels-Hatcher.  Three, with the person I'm with now.  Liam Adamson.   And I don't know if he'll be my last, and I know I will not have the same memories as I did with Zaylen, but that's okay.  It's okay because it makes every love unique.   Every love is unique.

Their eyes were battling each other, the rage sent waves around the empty room,
with nothing in it except packed boxes.
He came home when she wasn't finished packing.
When she wasn't finished saying goodbye.
And he stared at her with anger flowing through his veins, "You've had enough time.  Get out.  Now." 
He flicked his white cuffed wrist to the elevator door, venom dripping from his mouth
like a savage dog.
And she stared at him with disdain, tears flowing freely as her mumbled words made her sound as worthless as she felt. "I'm not ready yet."
This time he began shouting, feeling his heart welting with the frustration that filled his heart
every day
for the past
few
weeks.
"I don't want to see you, Anna!  Get the fuck out, now!"  He stepped closer to her now, taking in the deep brown hair.  Instead of it being neatly pinned back, it was now wavy and full of frizz.  Her once full eyes were empty and heartless.  He felt heartless too.
She gripped the edge of one of the boxes, sputtering, "Please, I can't go yet.  How do you know--"
He gripped her arm, dragging her to the elevator door.  And with the press of the button, the elevator slowly drifted up to the suite.
She cried out, falling against him.  Feeling deflated. 
And he held this woman.
The woman who he felt in love with for the past seven years.
The woman who showed him the world.
Who showed him love.
True.
Love.
He held this woman, feeling her embrace one last time, before she would drift off like the ocean.  Being free.  Truly free.
She looked up at him, her hollow green eyes meeting his with heartbreak.
And he brushed his fingers down her face so gently,
she could've mistaken it for rain.
And then he tugged his finger against her lip, ever so slightly.
"But," her voice was hoarse, "How do you know when it's love?" 
His eyes widened, with reality.
What was love?
Was this terror of a relationship not real?
A facade?
Her pleading eyes bore into his.
But his anger still boiled.
Her rage was still inflamed.
As so when the elevator dinged, he moved Anna into the metal box.  And left before she could watch him as the doors shut.
And he poured himself a glass of whiskey.
And took it as a shot.
And as he curled up in bed
his face was burning hot
from the tears that stained his cheeks
and the pain from the weeks
he was now being torn
from what she said
about the confusion
how love felt dead
and when he woke
he had some gin
mumbling what she spoke
the chance of sleep was slim
each day carried out
little shut eye
many tears
one day
he couldn't try
so he took some pills
and lay his head
after downing some whiskey
his limbs like lead
and he wrote
I quote
"My dearest Anna,
love
is a fanatical word
because people have assumed
that it can sum up a mess
of emotions
but
do not use it in vain
do not
utter it
with uncertainty
I love you
and when I say love
I mean
you make my heart stop
when you look at me
even if you don't
it feels as though I'll vomit
and my shakiness is terrible
and won't stop for hours
even when
you're long
gone.
And I love you
because
when your name is said
my stomach
it flutters
but the problem is
I love you
to the point
where
it
physically
hurts
when I'm not around you
and when you see me
but don't speak to me
I'm getting torn a part inside
and I pray you don't see my corpse
lifeless
loveless
but
I need you to see this
because I was
angry
I still am
but it wasn't with you
it was with my pain capacity
I was broken
I am broken
and I
can't
be
fixed
because
I'll just crumble again
and Oh, Anna
dream well
live well
live free
of strain
and sadness
and anger
and restlessness
watch the ocean
I see it in your eyes
watch the ocean.
With more emotion than you could possibly comprehend,
yours,
but not yours,
Evan James Parker."

Dancing Girl

Her thin blond hair was twisted into a limp ponytail as she shimmied around the bar counter with obvious bags under her eyes.  Her bony frame made her look sunken, but her head was raised high with a flirtatious smile pasted on her lips.  The music was sultry, aiding in the dancers on stage.  Men lined the sides, tossing generous amounts of money onto the stage and into the women's suits.  The woman with the long ponytail leaned against the bar casually, with her sparkly blue lingerie twinkling with the dimmed pink lights as they spun.  She was given several drinks by different men, but she only took the one with a cap still on it.  It was cool against her throat, and she held it against her pale skin so her sweat could subside.  Her smile then faltered slightly.  Just for a moment.
     She knew what was coming.
     She gracefully placed the chilled beer back onto the counter, and just as she shimmied around the bar, she twisted into the bathroom.  As she closed the door, she checked to make sure no one was in the bathroom so she could lock the door.  She then walked over to the bathroom mirror, staring at her now yellow skin due to the cheap lighting.  The lights flickered every so often due to the expense of the stage, and the lighting in the bathroom didn't make anyone look the least bit attractive.
     As she studied herself in the mirror, she felt bile rise in her throat as to what she was wearing.  The blue bikini like outfit had many long fringes on it, making it look almost cow girl like.  She bared her teeth as she leaned into her made-up face.  Thick foundation and bright blue eyeshadow made her look more like a doll than a human.  And the bones that showed disgusted her.  A few wrinkles creased by her eyes and mouth, showing signs that she was ageing.  That also disgusted her.  In a few years, men wouldn't want her.  And if they didn't want her, then she couldn't feed her son.
     Who was going to be disgusted by her.
     And then, what she was waiting for came.  The tears.  The sudden feeling of sadness that crept up on her at the oddest of times.  She stood by the sink crying silently for a long time.  Until someone knocked on the door to wake her up.  She dabbed her eyes as she stared confidently in the mirror, and adjusting her bra, she twirled out of the bathroom back onto the stage.
    It didn't bother her, the attention she got.  What bothered her was who was giving her attention.  She could blatantly see pudgy men staring intently, and it gave her chills to know that when they go home they'd be jerking while thinking of her.  That bothered her.  It wasn't difficult to find a man willing to sleep with her for money after her shows.  It was hard to leave their place with a sense of dignity.  It was hard coming home in a wreck of an apartment to her son.  Who was old enough to know what she was doing by now.  To tell his friends she's a whore.  A slut.  A hooker.  But he didn't know that she was doing it for him.  So he could live.  Even if it meant to sacrifice her own life.
    And so she danced on the stage, accepting the coos and caws given from the men.  And none of them would see her cry when it felt like everything inside of her was being torn apart.  Because this was her life.  And even if she wasn't living, her son was.  

Fat.

She sat in the back of the room like every day.
She hung her head to her lap,  avoiding the people sitting around her
like
a
swarm
of
bugs.
She never spoke to them unless for group work
in which she was never chosen.
But on this day
when she was sitting
as she always did
away from view,
a boy spoke to someone else
quite blatantly.
This girl whom he spoke to
was the size of a chopstick.
But her height was that
of a paperclip.
The girl who sat in the far back spot
was very insecure.
She had a lot of muscle
which made her quite dense.
She wasn't large by any means
but her weight was much different than people guessed
because she was one-thirty-four.
And she was five-foot-six-and-a-half feet tall.
She usually wore heeled boots.
This made her roughly five-foot-nine.
For someone at that height, was healthy.
Her muscle
was
healthy.
But this boy spoke to the tiny girl
"Ew, you're one-hundred-and-thirty pounds? That's f***ing disgusting you fat a**."
"Oh my god you're so fat."
"Fat."
"Fat."
"Fat."
This tiny girl was laughing
knowing it wasn't true
but the girl who sat in the back
was hiding her tears
because she weighed more than that
she was fat
fat
fat
fat.
She felt embarrassed.
So much so
that when she got to her next class, she couldn't stop staring at the girl who had taken up modelling.
She was the girl's height.
But she was thin.
So much so
that it made the girl who sat in the same spot everyday
upset.
She wanted to be as thin as her.
Have no flab on her arms
Be able to wear t-shirts freely
Be pretty
Beautiful
even.
"You're eyes are so pretty."
People say to her.
"I love your hair."
People say to her.
"Oh wow, you have runner's legs."
People say to her.
What they don't say
is if she's skinny.
They don't say fat.
They don't say skinny.
She just
is.
And the girl in the back was torn a part
from hearing indirectly how fat she was.
And she's tearing herself up
everyday
because of these things she hears.

Allice

Looking up into the freezing snow, her eyes slowly blinked.  She stood on a jagged boulder that looked out onto the city beneath her.  But she didn't make her way to the glowing lights.  Instead, she made her way through the woods behind her to begin her search.  She had known that she would have to look for this since she was a mere tot, and she never knew that it would be this calming to try to find it.  She always imagined she would be frightened, her legs buckling.  That she would be too much of a wimp to go out on her own.
To say goodbye to her loved ones.
But she never did say goodbye.
She simply said goodnight.
And then she left.

She shook her head, getting rid of the familiar smiles that her adoptive mother and father gave her.
The sun would be rising soon.  They'd start making coffee in a few hours.  They'd be waking her up for training in a few hours.

But she wouldn't be there to be awoke.

Hopefully she'd be long gone by then.

She shuddered at the thought of their reactions.  She swallowed roughly and wiped her brow as she pictured them sending out the hounds to find her.

Her footsteps became sprints.
She couldn't go through this heartache just to be brought back.
She silently thanked the sky for snowing, hoping it would snow enough to get rid of her scent and tracks.  She thought about using the trees as travel, but realised that even if she was safer, she wouldn't get very far in a few hours.
She adjusted her bag as she swiftly made her way through the trees.

After a while she found herself in front of a cliff.  She swore as she collapsed in rage, pounding her gloved fists into the foot of snow.
She scanned the edges of the cliff, focused on getting across.  Her heart lifted when she saw the two edges of cliffs grew closer a few kilometres to the right.  She moved as fast as she could in her tired state, and she sat in the snow for a moment when she came to the close cliff edges.

"C'mon, Allice."  She punched the ground with agitation for how exhausted she was.
She shakily stood up and peered to the bottom of the cliff.
Pitch black.
She swatted her thick black locks out of her face.
Allice moved to the base of a pine tree, then pushed off to gain speed for her leap of faith.
Her breath froze as she glided over the crevasse,   choking her as she fumbled ungracefully into the piles of snow on the other side.
She coughed roughly into the powder, cursing when a spout of blood splattered the icy rain.
She forced herself up, falling down several times in the process.
Her breath was shallow as she continued down the snow filled field.  She felt uneasy about how open the area was, but she made her way quickly.

She didn't know how she knew where she was going, but her body seemed to move her like a map and a compass.
The sun was setting as she came across the stone building she sought out.
It had runes along each side of the doorway, and without a second thought she placed her palm over the moon symbol.
Her eyes flashed ivory, blinding her vision completely.  Fear shot through her as her body began moving forward by itself.  She felt herself walk forward into a tight space that was quite damp.
After several moments her vision returned, but she couldn't see through the tunnel because it was pitch dark.  She kept walking cautiously forward- if she was moving forward.  Her equilibrium became unbalanced as she became confused as to where she was going.

The tunnel opened up suddenly, and a bright white orb floated in the centre of the room.  Torched filled the walls, giving off a warm yellow glow.  And as she brushed her hair out of her face, she realised it wasn't black anymore.  Instead, it was a vibrant glowing opal.
She swallowed her fear and stepped closer to the orb.
She found it.
She found herself.
She stalked towards the orb carefully, afraid of what would happen.
But as she grabbed the orb, its light shot into her body sending out screams of pain as she shot into the air.
Her hair was flying around her face by forces of wind, growing out in long strands.
Her eyes glowed beautifully as her skin radiated white light.
As the scene calmed, she knew.
She knew everything about her.

Because she wasn't Allice anymore.
She never was.
She was the goddess of light, saviour of lands and creator of being.

But instead of staying in the tomb, she left.
Her light radiated constantly as she went out into the snow land.
By now, the sky had fallen dark, but  still she sent out light to extreme lengths.
She shot up into the sky, meeting the moon as its grace, and she placed herself into the atmosphere.
She knew what she was doing would be helpful to all people.
She knew that this is what she had to do.
And yet, sadness filled her.

Her light became unstable, glowing at immense power.
Until, the light consumed her completely.  Sending sparks of ivory throughout the entire sky.
It formed a shield around the mountains, forest and cities beyond travel.
And by the time the sparks had settled in their cloaking, Allice was no longer a being.
She was a saviour.

The 'Love' Bite

I remember seeing my grandmother's cat for the first time. 
Big Red.
What a scary name.
But she was so beautiful.  With thick orange fur that kissed her emerald eyes gently.  The way she strutted through the large wooden house with pride made me want her to love me.
So I wanted to pet her, love her, kiss her, hug her.
But when I asked my grandmother about the cat, she told me not to chase or bother her because she wasn't a friendly cat.
But I was young.
That isn't an excuse now, but I was just so curious.
Wanting an animal to love me.
So when my grandmother was in the garden I set out to find Red.
Once I found her in the kitchen I started running at her.
Of course she ran.
Into the living room.  I finally caught her though, feeling my tiny hands fold into her thick fur.
And then it was like a scene from jaws.
Her head turned sideways, her mouth seemed to unhinge, and she submerged her fangs  between my left eye and temple.
I dropped her.
Not from the pain, but from fear of what my grandmother would do.
I was scared she'd be angry.
I disobeyed her.
I just wanted to love the kitten.
So I sprinted upstairs into the bathroom with tears down my cheeks.
I looked in the mirror in horror.
Blood was gushing from my face, no matter how many tissues I used it wouldn't stop.
My grandmother knocked on the door after a while asking if I was alright.
I told her I would be out in a minute.
So me.
Thinking oh so cleverly.
Plastered tissue to the side of my face.
And walked out of the bathroom.
My grandmother of course instantly asked what happened, and I told her about Red.
She hugged me then.
Which startled me.
And she took me to the doctors.
I had to take pills to make sure it didn't get infected or anything.
And that was that.
It took weeks to heal.
But me and that cat...
We're on good terms now.
Sometimes if I'm lucky, she'll let me pet her.
Sometimes, if I'm really lucky, she'll lay in my lap.
She's a good cat.
I was just a bad child.