It Doesn't Always Start With a Bang

Flashing skies
Illuminated nights
But silence forever before.
Lilting laughs
Stained from grass
Crumbling to the floor.
Simple moments
Silents poets
Invisible memories to hold dear.
Exploding firecrackers
Shadowed afterwards
Crowd filled with content, not fear.
Dancing freely
Tongues like melee
Mountains being moved from emotion.
Walking on water
Chest feeling hotter
Able to control the ocean.
Dark nights
Faded lights
Glowing bright heart.
There was slow breeze
Gentle leaves
and the hurricane did start.

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.

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.  

The Man With a Beautiful Soul

He tapped his hang drum wondrously
as though pulling you into Alice's world
scaring all your thoughts away
with a simple wrist twirl
tapping
and tapping
became melodic
and breathtaking
as though taking all of your worries
and not hiding them--
but letting them fall away into the breeze
the breeze that sang out his heart stopping notes.
The girl who was speaking solely to her brother
didn't stop to listen
until her brother told her to stop
and as she stopped
as did her breath
because what she heard was so uniquely lovely
that her eyes began to swell.
She offered her brother to give the man money
but he shook his head and told her to give it
and as she opened her wallet,
a darkness creaked into her
she barely had any coins to spare
and not a bill to give.
She tossed the coins she had
and told the man about his beautiful playing
and that if she had more coins
she wouldn't hesitate to give them to him.
And his smile was comforting
happy
purely joyous.
He said he wouldn't ask for more
because her thanks was all he wanted.
He then asked her for a hug
in which she didn't feel odd
he didn't feel odd
or uneasy to be around
and she couldn't pin point why she felt so soothing around this man.
So she hugged him
and they stayed there for a moment
letting the echoing notes stay in their minds
and as they pulled a part
his smile widened
when he saw the two stones draping from her neck.
He told her she was beautiful
and that her stones were so powerful.
He told her she wasn't just a beautiful person
but that she was truly beautiful.
And her throat caught
because he meant it whole heartedly
and she couldn't express anything more
as she left.
And as she left his notes rang out again
and she got back to her brother
they continued
and he asked her about the man
and she told him
about the man
with a beautiful soul. 

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.

Untitled

The damp curls were blown across her forehead, and her pale green eyes traced the waves outlines against the moon's illumination. You wouldn't be able to tell she was whispering, because the harsh wind knocked her words into the sea.  But she was.  She was calling to the large, sinking ship before her.  Her bloodied nails grasped the stone she lay on, her body beaten and torn from the crashing ocean.   The curls of her black locks twisted down her arms and down the nape of her neck as though clockwork.  The thick hair tangled around the long silver chain around her neck.  She gripped the cool silver charm, but her silent cries never ceased.  The howling wind never breathed for a pause.  But here she lay, in the moonlight on a spring storm.   The rain slashed her face, and became anchors to the boat.  With each drop the boat filled.  With each drop, the men on the ship were drowning.  Her blood soaked hands came to her face, not knowing if she was wiping more than just rain away.  But there she clung, with thick grey clouds rolling above her.  With the pitch sea churning beneath.  Her strangled cries halted.  Her throat swelling and choking against the salt water.  Her mind flashed to the man in the ship- the captain's left hand man.  His thick blond hair tousled against his forehead, with the bright sun's rays behind him.  His laughter filled her heart, and the way his eyes grew crinkles when he smiled tugged at her stomach.  
A large wave crashed against her head, a sudden pulse against the jagged silver stone sent her into the sea. 
But she was still breathing.  Better now that she was submerged.  She inhaled the ocean and kissed the broken skin of her hands.  
She could see the ship's stern from here.  Her throat became tangled in screams.  She swam forward with exceptional strength, to find none of the glass paneling would open.  Her dark tangles enveloped her waist as she peered in through the  pot hole.  She could see the deep red velvet swiped couch, and water-logged bookshelf.  The lantern was out, reflecting no light throughout the hollow room.  Her eyes narrowed as she gripped the edge of the window, looking down in to the endless sea below.  Darkness consumed her below.  It would consume the brave men who ventured to this part of the sea.  She rose her eyes to meet clouded, glassy eyes floating before her.  His lips were pale and slightly parted, with high cheekbones and soaked brown hair.  A scream filled her head, she flung back away from the window, holding her ever leaving sanity with each thump of her heart.  The body drifted up into the ceiling, and she forced herself against the window with her entire strength.  It broke inward, sending her tumbling into the room.  As she looked up to where the body had drifted, his fitted body seemed to grab the wooden paneling above.  But his other hand seemed to be outstretched to her.  Her stomach twisted uneasily, and she moved her gaze away from the man.  She swam to the large wooden dual doors across from the bookshelf, and looked both ways down the hallway.  To her left was a stairway that most likely led to the top of the ship, whereas to her right there were numerous wooden doors.  Her left.  She swam quickly to the the top, only to find the ship wasn't completely submerged yet.  She was struggling immensely to get onto the deck, until a flash of movement caught her eyes. There, lying on the bow, with blond damp hair plastered to his neck was the man.  Water coated his body, and his loose white shirt was clinging to his chest.  A rage filled inside her body.  This ship was not meant to go down.  This crew was not meant to suffer. 
His eyelids fluttered for a moment, and his deep brown eyes met her own.  And in that moment, she stopped struggling to get up.  Her hands lay flat against the wood as she watched him helplessly.  His pale pink lips moved ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving hers.  She tried pulling herself up again, but his mouth formed a heartwarming smile. He lifted his hand from the thick level of water beginning to fill the top deck, and he coughed up the rain water that was filling his mouth.  He turned onto his stomach abruptly, half of his face was in the water as he stared at her.   His eyes fell to her neck, and he reached into his pocket.  The girl's green eyes swept over the small silver charm that he now held.  She could barely see the shape of it, but she knew what it was.  It was a fishing hook.  The same fishing hook.  This time, as she wiped at her eyes she knew most of the water tapered to her face were from the tears she held from her chest.  As the water level grew deeper, she tried pulling herself onto the deck.  Her arms were weak, but with help from a crashing wave, she finally lay on the deck with him.  His eyes widened curiously as she moved towards him.  .  Finally, once she was in reach of him, he pulled her tightly against her chest.

The rain pounded around them, and another large wave crashed on top of them, but he gripped onto her.  He was giving her hope.  They lay there, as the storm was raging, and as the ship was sinking.  The waves kept crashing angrily against the ship, until with a final battle it crumbled a part.  His cry filled her ears as she was knocked away from him.  Her hand was cut from the hook he was holding, but she felt nothing from it.  She only felt the fear that was gnawing at her mind.  That was gnawing at her thoughts. 

The light’s rays were bouncing off his hair as though he were an angel.  And she stayed hidden there, watching this odd man throwing a thin string into the water and pulling it back out.  Curiosity eventually got the better of her, and she swam towards him.  But the thing he was throwing out caught her and she was so surprised, that she yelped.  His head swivelled towards her, but before he could see her, she was pulling the thing down with her.  In a safe location she pulled the metal spike out of her, and swearing as the water around her became tinged with scarlet. She rose back up to give the sharp-pointed hook back to him, but when she breathed in the air, he was gone.

She saw his head floating on the surface of the black water, and she pushed through the broken pieces of wood to get to him.  As she grew closer, she saw a steady stream of blood falling from his skull.

She waited there. For a while.  She wanted to return it. She didn’t want to steal it.  So she waited until the sun went down.  And then the next day. And the next.  She would sit on the rock he was casting from, and pretend to be doing what he was doing.  Bu she was using stones.  Throwing them against the flat water, breaking it into a thousand cracks, and swimming in after it only to do that again, and again. 

She turned him over, his lovely russet eyes blinking at her.  A choke rose in her throat as she collapsed into his chest.  His hand fell to her back, steadying her.

Then she heard a voice. It was a timid voice at first.  Greeting her carefully.  And when she turned, she was met with his face.  A slim face with a firm jaw.  But it wasn’t fear or anger in his face. No, it was amusement.  He moved towards her steadily, and he reached out to shake her hand.  Of course, she thought he was trying to grab her so she leaped into the water, only to come up to the surface to see a plastered grin on his face as he wiped off water from his neck.  Then she heard his chuckling.

She heard his chuckling now, too.  She could hear it through the rain.  And the waves.  And her heartbeat.

She came up to him slowly, reaching out to give him the hook.  But he shook his head and showed another one. He said they were a pair, and that it was okay to lose one. She turned her head, confused.  Thinking if it was a pair, they should always be together.  But at those words he smiled again, and crouched closer to the water. Closer to her face. No, he said. If something is truly a pair, it doesn’t matter where one of the two goes. If they’re paired, then they have a connection that cannot be seen.  It’s like their secret.

He showed her the silver hook again, trying to force it into her palm.  He was choking against the salt.

She met him every evening.  He would fish and she would watch. They spoke about many things.  They spoke about nothing. And every time, before he left, he would turn his head to her ever so slightly and the sun would catch his eyes, turning them into flame.  And he would grin.  A stupid half-grin that never ceased to make her smile too.  It never stopped making her feel warmth in her chest.

The moon’s light casted into his eyes, making them a soft, clear brown.  And the corner of his mouth lifted. Ever so slightly.

He spoke about how ships were his life- just as the sea were hers. He never probed about her. He just knew. And every evening, he would walk away from the rocks into the forest behind and disappear into the blackness. Just as she would disappear into the ocean in front of them, becoming cloaked by the blue.

He opened his mouth, having it fill with water.  She pulled him up onto a flat broken board, holding him up onto it. The sail broken off, and the post screamed under its weight, crashing on to their bodies. 

She found a thin chain in the sand one day.  And she laced the hook through it.  She didn’t care when it nicked her skin, because it was his.  She didn’t have to ask him about his, because she always saw the outline of it in his pocket. She once reached for it.  She wanted to compare them. But he grabbed her wrist gently. And instead he brought his mouth to hers.

She was dizzy, tumbling under the waves, and she saw his body sinking under.

She asked him what it was.

Her head howled in pain as she swam lethargically towards him.

“Love.”

Bubbled cries filled the sea around her as she tried grabbing his arms.

She asked what love was.

Tiny air bubbles left his mouth as he was being consumed by the ocean.

“Love, is when a pair can be on opposite sides of the Earth, but still have a tiny, brilliant string that ties their souls together in a way that is almost impossible.”

Her arms flailed, panicking to catch him.

Her face lit up.  She asked if that was why the hooks could be separated.

His weight dragged her deeper, an aura of scarlet coating around them.

“Yes,” He kissed her, “And that’s why we can leave every day and come back again. Because of love. We will always have that in us. It’ll be hidden sometimes. Sometimes it’ll seem broken or lost, but know that it is always there.”

Darkness was surrounding them.

He jumped into the water and kicked around with her until the sun set. But he stayed that night. They kept talking about love. She kept asking about love. She felt as though something inside was swelling with such an intense joy, as though such a strong flame could not be drowned by water.

She gripped his hand, and looked at the top of the ocean. From below it seemed peaceful. Iron filled her mouth, and she began choking.  She clung onto him tighter. Not wanting to let go.

She looked at him. Truly looked at him. He pointed to the ship he would be on soon. It was stunning. Shiny deep wooden oak that was finely cut. Large white sails that were wrapped up tightly. And a stunning wooden sculpture of a woman with long tousled hair and slender arms holding onto the bow. Her head turned up to him, her face gleaming. He gripped her hand thoughtfully and brought each of her fingers to his lips.  She looked solemnly to the giant rippling mirror before them.

She thrashed in the water, trying to pull him up.

He brought her close to his chest and brought his mouth her ear.

Her jaw clenched angrily with her weakness.

“It’s okay to let go.”

She stopped.

His voice was hushed.

She stared at the man before her.  His once brown eyes were now glossy and pale.  She closed his eyes gently. His body was lax in her grip. And his pale mouth was parted.

“I know it’s scary.”

She brought her mouth to his. Taking in the last bit of him she would ever have again.

“But that’s because sometimes, something needs to be scary for you to do it.”

She looked at his clenched hand, and brought her own to her chain.

“Because then it gets easier.”

Her fingers began relaxing.

“And you get stronger.”

His body was falling.
“But I promise you, it gets better.”

She stayed floating there. In the darkest part of the water, watching him disappear.  She stayed there. For a while. And eventually rose back up to the surface. Most of the ship was gone now, and the rain had become a drizzle. She swam slowly. Away from the ship. Away from the wreckage. And she waited as the sun came up. It took a long time for her to stop shaking, but she never let go of the hook on her chain.

She didn’t take the hook in his hand. She knew she didn’t have to.

She climbed up onto a rock by the shore where he fished.

She stared in to a small pool. And she saw her green eyes and dark hair. But she didn’t look at her eyes. She looked at her mouth.

She inhaled deeply, feeling the rhythm of her heart increasing.

“Love.”

A Little Star

Through the sea of injustice, the galaxies above, 
there is that one star you love.
Through the clouds of fog, and thick rainy nights
you love it even when out of your sight.
Because of the glow
The humor
The grin
It gives you.
It's your little star
that lights up your night.