Spirit's Tales

Raven

2015-05-08T21:34:00.001-07:00

2014-12-29T12:33:00.000-08:00

So let's play pretend that we are ghosts who have searched for ways to find each other. We knew, deep down of one another's existence, yet, we were questioning our sanity. There were strange smoke anomalies in the air. You did not believe in my existence, any more than I believed in yours. This is why we play pretend. This is why we always meet in a world somewhere far removed from our own, yet similar.

If I were a ghost, how did I die? I dreamed I died in a car accident at a crossroads somewhere close to where I sit now. I guess that this place is only miles from here. It's surrounded by small brick homes with trampolines in the backyard. There is a trailer on one corner with an old pick-up truck parked on a gravel driveway. There, I came speeding by and never paid much attention to the stop sign. The other guy hit me, jack-knifed and spinning round in circles. There, my engine caught aflame and I was burned before I could kick open the broken door. And it hurt, but my pain faded as my spirit wafted up into the air. There, floating above, I thought of you.

You fell to your knees in a strange and sudden bout of pain. Your attempts to call for help were small because you were far from home. There in the midst of the forest by the lake, you grasped the trunk of the closest tree. You were screaming for help. But you were alone because you chose to be alone and no one could hear you.. Your strong will to find yourself enveloped your desire to become one with nature. As your breath grew rapid and the vessels in your head burst, you dropped. No one could hear those sounds, those dying sounds that escaped as you drifted up above. Could it be that you looked down and saw yourself lying against the pine and the edge of the Mississippi mud? You noticed how strange you looked. Your desire to adjust your clothing and hair was unbearable. But then you thought of me and turned toward the treeline.

And it was complete, you see. As we dreamt it would be, we passed from this life to the next. Things looked different and yet the same. No, they cannot hear us and no we have no solid form. Every now and then for giggles, we pretend we have bodies wrap around each other. We are vapor. We are dead and yet, we still cannot seem to hold onto something that was just a dream. No matter how many times our transparency tries to pull together, it fails us. We find that we are still dreaming.

The path is there, untouched, the hands of the clock have not moved and yet, we lost each other.

My death in 5 years

2014-09-12T10:50:00.001-07:00

I always thought it would be cancer, or maybe it would be cardiac arrest. It turns out, however, that my battery is running out. Yes, you heard it right, my battery. I wanted to die like the rest, human like the rest.

My brother told me yesterday that I was not human. I have a running expectancy of 40 years as well. Since I am 35 years old, that makes my day of death in five years, respectively. And yes, I laughed pretty hard when he told me-my brother has always been one for dry humor. I saw this as one of his silly little stories, set amongst a satirical background of other ridiculous things. I laughed with him and punched him on the arm, and everything seemed like a usual summer day. Then my brother took my wrist in his hand and pressed down.

I was frozen. His mouth moved, the words coming out slowly and melodically-he talked to me but I could not understand what he was saying. Then he pressed my wrist in the same spot and everything went back to normal.

“What did you do?” I questioned him, tilting my head.

My brother shrugged and spoke. “I told you, you are not human. I just pressed pressed your slo-mo button-makes everything you see or hear slow down dramatically. If I could keep that button pressed for the duration of your life, you could burn up within 2-2 and a half years, maybe.”

My brother laughed at the fact that, if he was right, then he thought it was hilarious to shorten my life even more. I thought about what he said and it didn’t really make sense.

“Why would slowing me down make my life pass quicker…I mean…if this notion were real?”

My brother leaned close and whispered. “You see, when I press your slow-mo button, it presses your circuits together and they tend to overheat, like this.”

My brother reached out for my wrist again and I jerked back.

“No way! Stop that!”

The whole thing seemed amusing to him and he continued through his laughter. “You see, if I were to press this button here..”

My brother reached out and pressed the top of my hand gently. Everything surrounding me grew darker and my brother’s voice climbed higher and became virtually inaudible. It was fast-his speech whipped by my ears like squealing chipmunks. The leaves in the trees, the rustling paper scurrying down the street-all these things whipped by at breakneck speed.

“See, now that would prolong your life for about, hmmm a year or so. The thing is, those circuits could snap from stress as well. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t, I say.

I stood and stared at him for quite some time, trying to put it all together. The fact of the matter was that I knew something really strange was going on, but I wasn’t quite convinced that I wasn’t human.

“What are those things you put in my hand?” I held up my hand and examined the surface of my skin. I wanted to find the telltale signs of how those blasted devices had been inserted, apparently in my sleep and at the evil hand of my brother.

My brother laughed again and told the story.

“Mom and dad couldn’t have any more children after I was born. They always wanted a girl and so they just kept talking about it around the “wrong” crowds of people. There was this guy, this strange dude that offered my parents a way to have another child. This guy, he had a very talented gift, especially in those times. So, you know the deal, couple pays a hefty price, man makes a way and everyone is happy.”

I heard the story-don’t really know or care too much about how this made my parents happy. Don’t’ understand what I am. I couldn’t be a cyborg, because I was created small and I grew. I just know that, according to him, I am on borrowed time. He showed me how to pause myself, to gain a few hours here and there, and how to watch scenes from my very detailed memory bank. My brother pressed the nape of my neck and showed me images from my own mind-my smiling parents, my childhood pets and some face that I didn’t recognize. When I described the face to my brother, he smiled.

“Yes, that would be Frank, your creator.”

I have 5 years left, respectively. I guess I should do something amazing, something that will leave a legacy for those who cared about me as a human being. I guess I should do something out of the ordinary. I can go to Disney World or I could climb the Eiffel Tower. Maybe I could stand on the beach and watch the waves crash against the shore, far away from here…on some exotic island. I guess I could do that.

But I don’t want to do that.I think I will try to be as human as I can and lonely. I want to feel the pangs of dying in a normal setting, an unfortunately lonely place, far from the make believe happiness of denial. When the time comes, I shall die peacefully at home, and I will tell them that I have cancer.

I will die as the rest of you, wonderfully full of regrets…human

Mother's ring

2014-09-12T08:25:00.000-07:00

My mother’s engagement ring sits in the palm of my hand, or at least I wished it did. It think I will get it out of my jewelry box again and stare at its brilliance. Actually it is ugly now, tarnished and bent. It even has a break in the band, worn thin and broken-it pinches my finger when I put it on.

My memory serves me well, that my favorite thing to hold was her ring, mama’s old engagement ring. She never wore the ring, always taking it from her finger to wash dishes or to mix ground beef. I always saw the trinket, glimmering faintly on the kitchen sink. Most times, I ran up and got her attention, so that I could slip my hand around her waist, without her being the wiser.

When mama wasn’t looking, I took the ring and ran into the other room. I would hold it tightly at first, feeling the realness of the trinket. Then I carefully opened my hands and enjoyed the fact that I had it away from her. In the kitchen, mother sang some old spiritual song and kept on working. In the living room, I sat on the couch, feet propped against the edge of the table, and I stared at the ring. After a while, I returned to my grandmother’s room and lay on the bed. Sometimes I fell asleep, sometimes I hid mother’s ring in my toybox and sometimes, she came to ask me if I had it again.

I remember holding mama’s ring, thinking that it was really mine. It is an item from my past that I shall never forget. When she died, I took the ring and placed it in my jewelry box. It is still there and sometimes I get it out, lay back on bed and dangle the old thing in front of my eyes. Whether I cry or not, in memory of mother is beside the point, and I have no idea what the ring means for me. I just know that I will forever be in awe of this simple object of beauty.

What the rain brings

2014-07-07T21:26:00.002-07:00

When it rains in summer, it is beautiful. That moment, right before the bottom falls out, when the wind whips round the trees and the thunder rumbles through the mid-afternoon air, that is the magic. In summer, when the water falls from the sky, there is no harm in it. The plants are alive and the air is charged with fresh scents of disturbance. That rainfall is good and that rainfall is welcome. But in the winter, the rain turns into something cruel. I guess it was always like this because I was always cold. In the winter, I see clearly and in the winter, I am alone.

It was coming again, that nasty wet season right before the end of fall. There was just enough chill in the air to disgust me. I walked from one window to the next, clad in my converse sneakers, jeans and oversized knit sweater. I was biting my nails again because I knew, that tonight, I would sit by the fireplace in my blanket again. There would be no toasty warmth flowing throughout the house. There would only be an aura of warmth radiating closely around the hearth, and there I would sit, huddled and with some random book in my hand. There was no need for electricity, but there was a need for warmth. Too bad the both of them intersected quite uncomfortably.

It was coming closer, I could hear the winter thunder rumble quietly in the distance. Even the winter thunder was different, more subdued. It wasn’t filled with raging freedome like during the summer. I hated its small voice and I hated its electrical sister that provided nothing for me anymore. I lit a candle quietly, as the sun faded beyond the edge of the dark cloud. The smell of cucumber rose up into my nostrils and reminded me, painfully, of the long gone warm days before. I pushed the candle away so that I didn’t have to smell that lovely smell I hated so much. My fingers grazed the edge of the melting wax and I pulled my hand back to my face. I moved the drying buds of wax around in circles with my finger and thumb. I watched it crumble and fall to the floor. My eyes rested on the crumbs. It was lonely here, but no one could hurt me.

“I am stronger than I think” I whispered to myself.

A long moment of silence passed after those words and I could have sworn I heard an echo. I remembered then that it was coming from outside. A long mournful wail in the distance brought me out of my daze and back to reality. The thunderhead grew larger, I watched the clouds bubble upward and push closer to my home. I stared across the yard, watching the old lady grasp at the air. Her pale flesh had grown darker today, much darker than yesterday. It was safe to say she wasn’t pale anymore, I guess. Her friend bumped into her and turned to see what was making contact with him. He pushed at her and then started to grasp at the air himself. His brown uniform was almost gone now, spotted and torn in various places, shredded in others. He was such a contrast to her prim and proper attire, stained, mottled with something gruesome all her own.

I jumped suddenly as a face appeared glued to the window. He turned to look at the freaks in the yard and then he looked through the window again. His face was familiar. It seemed as though he was with me in another life, maybe a story where he was normal and I was the undead freak.

He started pounding on the window, floundering at first and then more meaningful. Pieces of his skin flaked away as he hit the reverberating plexi-glass. I watched him shudder each time he pounded the glass, each time he leaned back intentionally and gave surface a good dead walloping.

“That will not last long. Why are you so morbid? Why do you want to watch this?”

I heard my voice and he did too. He stopped pounding the shuddering plexi-glass and tilted his head.

“Oh my god, can you hear me?”

The dead that was relentlessly battling my window moaned and shook his head. Did he think his ears were filled with worms? Did he think the worms were wiggling and buzzing inside his rotten ear canal?

“You used to be important.” I spoke and pushed down on the floor to rise.

My hands wanted to do something, and so I pulled at my gloves. I looked at the fire and then back to him. My favorite zombie was shuffling about on the porch, looking for something. I imagined he was looking for something, but he was probably only trying to figure out how to get the worms out of his ears.

Then again, he looked at me. There was something more than dead in those eyes, there was irritation. There was planning and motivation, there was hunger and courage. He bent over and lifted a brick from the edge of the porch. As he studied the brick, turning it over and passing it from one hand to the other, he smiled. I swear he smiled, there was a crackled grin upon his molded face. I was astonished by the fact that this fucker was about to throw a brick at my window. In a moment, that is just what he did. He drew back and released the brick in my direction, only barely knicking the window sill. So much for that plan. And he knew he had failed too. He grimaced and let out a loud gurgling screech, then rammed his body into the window.

“Apparently, he will never give you any more than you can handle, huh..”

And then the rain fell hard. I heard the dead screaming and the thunder crackling. A moment later, I could smell the wet charred flesh of the dead. No, the rain in winter was never quite as beautiful and the rain in summer. The rain didn't bring life, it brought death, cold, charred, wet and stinking death.

And I was cold, hungry and without one shred of hope left, but the hope that I would die soon as well. And then I found a memory, half-buried and waiting oblivion. I caught the image of the summer rain and I smiled.

The rain in summer is magnetic, astonishing, bringing relief to the dry cracked earth. The summer rain can be amazing, just before the earth cracks open and gives birth to new life, and the coffin takes another breath releasing its putrid babies of renewal. The hand reaching for heaven and the screaming of the reborn as it opens its eyes to a whole new world.

“Okay, I guess I have had enough.”

I walked into bedroom and slammed the door. Crawling into bed, I pulled the covers over my head. IT seemed, that no matter how hard I tried, they just wouldn’t leave me alone. The only place safe from those undead jerks was deep within the boundaries of sleep. There, I could pretend that it was summer again…and he was still just like me.

.. and he was just like the summer rain, the only thing I ever needed.

emptiness

2014-06-28T20:51:00.001-07:00

There is an emptiness that is hard to explain. It rambles through my head, keeping me up at night and driving me towards the light of day with dreams and nightmares. The emptiness provides a way to explain my insanity, because insanity would be what you call it. There is no means to an end, except to end it properly. This emptiness raves throughout the days as something that must be heard. I have never been caught in such loud screams and such harsh clawing hands of this nothing.

I look deeply within and I see it there. It awaits me. It has taken root, a root that I supplied with nutrients, and it has dug down to the very deepest depths of me. It has made home within.

A fool am I, that I should create such emptiness and drop bread crumbs along the trail for emptiness to find me. I sit patiently in the waiting room of my dark and devious physician and I watch the hands of the clock. They are not moving and time has definitely stood still for the nothing that I crave.

As I close my eyes, I cannot see you there, I cannot feel nor hear your voice. I quickly understand what it all means.

It's coming, the midnight hour and the hands of the clock are already there, stopped and waiting for me. One shoe is missing and my heart is bursting from my chest. They are coming for me, the emptiness, the nothing and the wicked witch.

There is an emptiness that is hard to explain and a shadow which always remains. The crazy fairy dances in my brain and no one eats the clues that I drop. There is nothing and this is all just a figment of my imagination.

But a dream that I cannot wake.

Me and my Shadow

2014-03-13T18:23:00.000-07:00

Everyone has a shadow. But when mine comes around, all other shadows disappear.

I was not sick. I refused to believe that something was wrong with my brain. They all said the same thing and the process of medication was structured. One pill a day; three medications crafted for psychosis, seizures and depression. The thing is, it ended up being the same routine every single time. If I missed a couple doses, the things come back, the shadow monsters, the shadows…my shadows.

I am not sick, I am not crazy. There is just something inside me that is not me. Sometimes that thing lives outside of me as well.

Region II

“I understand.”

I fidget in my plush chair and stare out the window to my left. There is something out there that will not let me remove my gaze; but I cannot see anything but cars, grass and the window of the hospital’s east wing. Beyond that is the shadow created by the sun. The day is partially sunny, partially cloud, No, it is not a gloomy Sunday. But I like that song. My mind flits between ideas, music and patterns, as I sit with my therapist, Marva.

“Chelsea, are you okay?”

The therapist leaned across her desk and folded her hands together. She really didn’t look all that concerned by my wandering gaze. Her job was just to listen. I didn’t answer; I just turned toward her and nodded my head. My lips moved a few minutes before I managed to get the words out.

“I am okay. It’s just the thing, you know.”

I turned back toward the window to watch the thing that was almost invisible. The shadow retreated from the surface of the brick wall and moved across the parking lot. Even though my eyes could only detect minimum changes in the outside environment, my brain was sending alarms. I recognized the sensation immediately.

Turning toward the therapist again I spoke. “They are coming for me.”

The tears streamed down my cheeks and my lips quivered. Gripping the arms of my plush chair, I start to rise. I felt them all around and I stop trying to rise from my seat. Inside my chest, beneath my ribcage, I feel my heart thumping furiously. All around me they flew and moved in to make themselves known. I feel the cold breeze caress my nose and then move down my neck.

“Please, you got to help me! They are going to get me.”

“What do you mean? Who is going to get you, Chelsea?”

Marva, my therapist rose from her chair and walked around to the front of her desk. She reached for the phone and lifted the receiver. After pressing a series of buttons, she put the phone to her face. I knew exactly when someone came onto the phone line because she sucked in a sudden breath. It was as if she had been holding her breath and waiting for those things to make themselves known to her as well. Who was I kidding, Marva didn’t see them. No one saw them but me. I hated myself for being different.

“Paul, talk to the medic and ask him if Chelsea can take those old medications until her psychiatric appointment Friday.”

Marva listened and nodded her head. She frowned suddenly and spoke.
“Yes, I understand.”

She set the receiver back onto its cradle and cupped her hands. I stared at Marva. She was a pretty middle-aged therapist. Her red hair cascaded onto her shoulders and I couldn’t stop staring at her green eyes. At the moment, she looked very concerned for me. Sometimes, she looked as though she cared less. Trying to focus on something had been proven to me, a helpful endurance to the visitations that surrounded me. I focused on Marva and tried to read her mind. I focused on her form, her beautiful curves and how she looked like a cartoon. There was no darkness about her, she was pure. I could have sworn she didn’t even have a shadow.

Marva stared at me and frowned. I waited, staring back into Marva. I was whimpering and digging my nails into the chair arms.

Marva spoke. “Well, you cannot take those old medications. It seems that a year can take away the effectiveness of the seizure medication. If you take the other two medications they will take away the psychosis and the depression, but you will still have the mania to deal with. I cannot suggest that you take the old meds.”

Fear gripped me tightly. “So, what do I do?”

Marva rose and walked back around her desk. She pulled out the chair and sat down slowly. As she opened her mouth, I saw rows of perfectly placed white teeth.

The therapist spoke slowly. “Listen, I am going to try and get you into the office before the week is up. You can get your medications then. Personally, I do not think you need the medications at all. If I could convince the psychiatrist that all you need is therapy, I believe you could recover so much faster.

I panicked. She had no idea how hard it was to avoid the “things”. She was clueless about how they ruled the shadows in the corners of the room. Marva didn’t take me seriously.

“I cannot leave like this.” I held out both hands exposing the scarred underbelly of my forearms. Rows of healed slash marks contrasted against the unmarred flesh of their surroundings. Marva couldn’t help but look at my arms. She furrowed her brow.

“Chelsea, would you like to be on inpatient status?”

The thought rolled around in my head. I hadn’t thought about that. I could stay in the center and the shadows may not be as bad, at least some of the time. If I grew frightened, I could call for help. I could stay here until Friday, and then get my meds. By the time I got back home, I would be free of the shadows.

“Yes, can I?” I leaned forward and rubbed the wood of Marva’s desk.

She smiled and picked up the phone receiver once more. “Sure, let me make arrangements for you. This will only take a moment.”

Who was I kidding, the shadows would always come without my pills. I just felt better knowing that I didn’t have to be alone with them this time.

………………………………….

The room was small, very small, and I was alone. I appreciated that fact. On the bed was a stack of clothing and a bag of hygienic products. I had also been allowed to contact my brother so that he could bring any other items that I may need. I looked around the room and saw a television, a chair and a small table. This seemed good enough. The air was a little too cold but I would manage. The first thing I wanted to do was sleep.

I crawled beneath the blanket and fell fast asleep. It was late when I woke again. I could tell by the darkness of the room.

…………………………………………

“You are mine, every part of you.” The thing hovered over me. Its bright eyes were the most prominent thing about the creature. I saw shadows swirling about its body and the smell was horrible. I held my breath and whimpered.

“Leave me alone, please.” I spoke between sobs.

As the thing got closer, its breath burned my face. I saw the eyes get smaller as the thing spoke again.

“You have always been mine, Chelsea.”

Pieces of the creature broke free from the host and swirled about. They were flying black leaches that suddenly bared needle sharp teeth. I cringed drawing back from the swirling mass of monsters.

“Why?”

The large part of the shadow stood taller suddenly and let out a choking noise from its maw. I saw the sharpened teeth as menacing as the small parasites that rushed around it. The thing reached out embracing its parasitic babies.

“Because you see us, the shadows.” The thing looked back down at me and I could see its eyes grow brighter. It smiled and tiny fangs protruded from its bite. A long black tail whipped from behind the creature and brushed the skin of my face. I gasped suddenly drawing back from the jagged and dark shadow monster. I couldn’t breath suddenly and my heart was pounding.

……………………………….

I awoke in a puddle of sweat and grasped my chest. My breath was coming fast and my heart was beating hard. I could hear the meaty drum in my ears. I could also still remember the shadow’s words.

“You are mine.”

I shivered and pushed the nurse’s button.

“Yes, may I help you?” The nurse spoke across the intercom.

I hesitated and then spoke slowly. “I need someone, I am freaking out.”

The intercom was silent for a moment, then the low voices of two people consulted with each other in a hushed tone.

“Ms. Roberts, are you okay?” The nurse asked.

I held my face in my hands and spoke once more, becoming irritated. “No! I am freaking out. I need someone! I am scared, please help me!.”

The intercom died.

The wait was long, or so it seemed. Moments may have passed but they seemed like years. I watched the darkened areas of the wall as they moved with the sun’s rays which shot through the window. I watched closely to see if the shadows suddenly became “the shadow thing” and if they would start to talk with bright eyes. I looked out the window at the trees. The green leaves swayed in the breeze.

Time went by and no one came, neither did the shadow. My heart raced furiously as the wait dragged on. My eyelids grew heavy just as Marva entered the room. She was smiling at me.

“Hello Chelsea.”

I watched Marva’s red hair sway as she took a seat in the corner chair. Her smile never left her. She has a small notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. I suppose she wanted to document the strange moment with the psychotic patient. I was the psychotic patient and she was the normal lady. I hated the card that I had been dealt.

“So, tell me what is happening today, Chelsea.” Marva took a pair of glasses from her white coat and placed them on her face. She moved the pen to paper and wrote something down.

“The shadows are trying to kill me.” It was the only way that I could make Marva understand. I had no tangible evidence of what was happening to me. The only way to convey the process of the shadow was to speak frankly of the shadow and wait for the traditional scratch of the head. It was obvious that Marva did not believe that the shadow existed because of what she said next.

“What I think is going on here, is the fear of being alone. You were adopted then abandoned, your love life has been very sparse and you feel like an outsider with your friends. I see that you are pushing everyone away with your insecurities.”

Marva stopped writing, she stopped talking and looked up at me. Removing her glasses she deemed to speak once more.

“Now, let’s be honest. These shadows are not real, Chelsea, they are just fear, insecurity and rejection.”

I looked at her eyes and understood that my case was a hopeless one. I could never get Marva to believe the shadows were real. I would take the medication and hope that my mind would be numb enough to not care. This is what I have always done before; and this is what I will do again. It is the only way.

“Chelsea, I really do not think that you need the medication. A good counseling session would work wonders for you. Now, I have talked to your regular psychiatrist and he agrees with me.” Marva removed her glasses and chewed on the ear piece.

My heart suddenly leapt into a thrumming beat. I felt sick and even dizzy. The thought of doing this on my own terrified me. Climbing down from the bed, I went to my knees.

“Please, Ms. Paterson, I have to have the medication. I cannot face this, please”

Marva watched me with criticizing eyes. She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat.

“Chelsea, I really think this is for the best.”

I was defeated. Although I knew in my heart that she was not going to budge, I cried to her. I sobbed pitifully on the floor, face against the hard linoleum. Then I screamed until someone came to save Ms. Marva from the crazy girl. Unfortunately, this still did not warrant my medication. I was doomed.

………

Don’t get me wrong, I hated the meds. I wanted to be free from the confines of “their” world. The thing is, after freedom was realized, something else followed along behind this freedom. The longer that I went without my medication, the closer I got to something much more complicated than the therapy and its structural aspects. I was on a wild ride, up and down from mountain top to low land valley. I felt the wind through my hair, the sun on my face and my senses were reeling.

But something was watching me. It grew larger as time went on. I could feel it whip around my head and pull close to my ear. The whisper was low but very distinct. It wanted to possess me for its own. I do not know why and what diabolical plan the shadow had, I just know that I had to make it go away.

I started to weigh my options. I loved the freedom from the medications but I hated the shadow thing, it terrified me. It lurked just outside my vision waiting for me to falter. I thought that maybe it was death or maybe even some ghost who was at unrest. As my thoughts drifted from one hypothesis to another, the shadow pulled near to speak again.

“I am none of these.” The voice was serrated knives dragging across my skin. I felt pain at the sound of the shadow’s whispering.

I guess it never really mattered what the shadow really was. I weighed my options and found the answer where I least expected it. I chose sanity over freedom; and I called Marva to schedule my appointment.
…………………..
It was cold in the hospital bed. I pulled my knees up and under my arms, resting in fetal position. I waited. I knew it would come as it did on most other nights. It would come and do as it wished. Whether it had plans to take me away or whether it just loved to see my torment, the truth was beyond me. It was my birthday and I thought that I would be doing something different than lying in this hospital room, surrounded my pristine and sterile instruments of despair. I hated this place and wished that I had never came back here. What was the point anyway?

The curtains shifted. It was a slight movement that may have otherwise gone unnoticed if I hadn’t been gazing around the room, taking inventory of my surroundings. A inky black smoke crept down the curtain’s edge and onto the floor. I knew it was here.

“No, please, no!” I pulled the white sheet underneath my chin and shivered.

The black shadow moved toward the bed disappearing from my sight range. The air grew colder and the lights from the nurses call button flickered and then went out, as did the bathroom night light. The smell came again. It was the unmistakable smell of the thing, the shadow.

“What do you want?” I asked in desperation.

There was nothing but a low in-audible whispering which seemed to encase the entire room. Voices high and low swept in cradling my ears and then swept back out to fill the air again.

“Please, tell me what you want.” I pleaded. “you come to me and yet you do nothing.”

I challenged the darkness which twisted around and around itself. I challenged the two yellow eyes that formed within the dark shadowy nightmare. My teeth were clenched as were my fists; my eyes watered with emotions stirring deep inside me. I wanted it to be over. I wanted the shadows to cease their torture.

“Please stop tormenting me…please.” I spoke and then curled back into a ball at the edge of the bed. I felt a shadow hand touch my shoulder.

“Do not be alarmed. There is no pain and there is no more torment.” The shadow hand caressed my shoulder and then moved to pat my head. I felt the cool sensation through my hair as the shadow twined its tendrils underneath each lock. I felt strange suddenly. I felt as though I had been waiting for this moment my entire life. There was a sudden dutiful emotion; I felt the waves of sorrow and joy collide into something quiet and still. It was the monster’s touch which soothed me.

“It is time, Chelsea” The monster cooed.

I stared into blackness as the shadow formed a bright yellow smile beneath the bright yellow eyes. The evil smiley face grinned and grinned as if it was horribly delighted by my terror.

“Today is a special day, Chelsea. Today, you are welcomed into the flock.” The thing chuckled and whispered to the others. I couldn’t understand the whispers and frankly, I couldn’t understand why I was special on this special day.

“Please tell me why you are haunting me.” I asked pleadingly.

The shadow lost its smile and its eyes narrowed. The little yellow slits quivered suddenly. The thing made a growling noise and then whispered again to the flying shadow parasites which whipped and flew around its dark mass. Then the thing smiled once more; and then it spoke to me.

“Your world is dying, Chelsea. This place will be gone in a very short time. They know nothing of what will happen to them, to you,if you run from me.” The monster waited…” If you take the medication, you will not be able to hear me anymore; and your chance will be lost.”

I contemplated what the shadow said but it meant nothing to me. I couldn’t understand how the world would end and how I was to be saved by the shadows. Why me?

“Why me?” I asked with eyes now drying from the previous tears.

The shadows stood still. Even the swirling shadows pulled together and re-entered the shadow leader’s mass.

The shadow’s eyes widened and it spoke. “You, why you, huh… You have the ability to see the shadows. What most see as a reflection of their own form, you see as a living thing. That is just it, we are alive. We see what you do, we see how you act and we see the most intelligent of your species. Why, we have followed you for centuries and you have ignored us.
It is time that you followed us for a change.

You call us shadows and you are right. We are the shadows of mankind. Those who see us for what we truly are, these are the ones who deserve to live. You see, we do not truly follow. It is humanity which has left us behind. It is humanity which should be following our lead.

I sat there and thought about what the shadow said. I was no longer afraid and I understood completely. I decided to test the theory of what the thing was implying. I stood and walked around the bed. There by the bedside was a nightstand with a lamp. The light hurt my eyes terribly even when I wasn’t starring right into its brilliance. Moving between the light and the bed, I stood still.

I looked behind me to find my shadow; but my shadow wasn’t there. My shadow stood tall beyond the bed, a living breathing thing which just called me an intelligent being. I saw its yellow eyes and a bright yellow smile, these things intrigued me. He beckoned me to come and follow him home.

………………………..

I am not sick. I will not get the medication and I suppose Marva expected a rise from me. When she came to my room with the psychiatrist, they were very kind. They talked to me for a while and made plans to find a residency for my inpatient stay. I would remain here for a while and undergo therapy. When time was done with them, I would be ready to go.

Marva moved toward my bed, followed by Dr. Kraus. Neither of them has a shadow and neither of them had a clue of their impending doom.

I am not sick, I am special.

A candle burned

2014-01-26T21:31:00.002-08:00

She stared out the window waiting for him to return. How long had it been since he pushed the boat from the shore and set out into the open water? Months maybe, she was unsure of the exact passage of time. Although she was constantly irritated at him and engaging in so many senseless fights; she missed him now. His face was beginning to get cloudy along with all the other various ideas she had in the past couple of weeks. Her heart hurt with a dullness that defied explaination and her hands shook lightly. She moved the small candle from the sill and rested her hands. Pushing her face against the glass, she began to cry. Softly at first, she wept.
The truth was, she didn’t really know if she cried from love or guilt. Her hatred rivaled her devotion of him and the bitterness stung. The wet flood that washed her cheeks carried turbulent memories.
She wanted him to leave when he struck her knocking her against the wall and spitting upon her face. Yes, she hated him plenty for that but realized it was the booze that was to blame. So, she forgave him. She wanted him to leave when he called her a bitch and blamed her for everything he never accomplished. So, she forgave him. She wanted him to leave when he betrayed her a total of four times and lied to her face. Yet, despite the pain, she forgave him.
But something changed in her when he told her that he wished that their son had never been born. Something which maybe always dwelled inside her, came to the surface that night. Her tears dried suddenly and she cursed him. Yes, she was sure of it, she had cursed him to a damned fate. She wasn’t even sure what conjure she gave him but she felt the heaviness inside. She loved her son more than herself and she felt a curse for a curse was sufficient. She remembered smiling as he caught the look in her eyes of evil intent and she recalled his blank expression. The knife had sunk and the fate had been sealed. When he told her he wished to go to the mainland and visit his family, she refused to go. “I shall remain and take care of the house, my dear. When shall you return?”
He shrugged and gave her a frustrated look, then answered with disdain. “I will return in a week or two. Why?”
She had dropped her head as she usually did and mumbled. She felt contempt and in a way was happy he was leaving. In fact, her heart leapt at the freedom she was promised for a while.
So, when he left in his little boat for the mainland, she smiled and sighed with relief. “Good riddance asshole.” She said as she watched him untangle the rope of his vessel and prepare to leave. She even knew how much more he cared for that damned boat. “The Seaweed” is what he called ‘her’. Yes, he even gave it a sex. She smiled again as he caressed his boat and loaded his bags into the bottom. He turned in her direction and made the strangest expression that she had ever seen then pushed the boat into the open water. Her eyes never left him until he disappeared with the setting sun.
Now, months later she cried and maybe even missed something about him. But only the small candle offered illumination in the night. Night after night, at her vigil, hoping the curse was not real and hoping the guilt would subside. Her son, an infant
boy, screamed loudly as she ignored him digging her raw fingers into the wood of the window sill. The small candle burned until it was no more. And she waited.

Timothy and the String Thing, a journal of strange love Part 2

2014-01-26T21:13:00.001-08:00

November 15, 2002

I saw Timothy watching me today outside the math building. It was when I skipped my lab class and fell asleep in the courtyard behind Macon Hall. I woke up but didn’t move as I felt his eyes on me. He thought I was still asleep as he stared at me. It was kind of funny when he tripped over the steps in front of the library….and he thought I didn’t see that. That is what he gets for walking with his head turned. Such euphoric sensations went through me as I made circles in the air with me hands. I noticed how my arms resembled snakes from Beetlejuice with their striped arm warmers. I found myself thinking of him but concentrating on the movement of my hands. It was hypnotising. Lying on the concrete bench, I could feel the coolness of the rock as I came back slowly to reality. A few moments later, I wandered up the small incline to the library and pretended to be looking for someone. (Actually, it was him that I was looking for….but I pretended that it wasn’t.) I caught him looking at me again right before he dropped his head back into what ever book he was reading. He was so sexy, pushing his glasses up his nose and trying to look intelligent. What a nerd. I let him know I saw him as I wandered out the opposite door. Boy did he seem nervous today.

November 17, 2002

I cant take it anymore…I hate him!

November 20, 2002

He talked to me today. Me and Leslie were getting our books out of our cars in the parking lot between classes. It really surprised me that I would run into Timothy. My stupid phone was acting up and I was frantically trying to save my ring tone. He spoke and I turned around. My luck would be that the most corny song on my phone would happen to sound off loudly. I am surprised I didn’t drop my phone, the way I was gawking at him and my breath caught as his eyes met mine. Wow…what power he held over me. He wanted to talk to me and I had no clue what I would say, but somehow, the whole conversation went smoothly. Unbelieveable…I did not make a fool of myself and he smiled at me the whole time. I think I am falling.

November 30, 2002

I am so confused. One day he acts like he really likes me and the next he acts like I don’t even exist. Is it my imagination to think that there could ever be anything more than friendship between us? Timothy told me that he didn’t want to go to the concert with me and he was too busy to talk. So I decided to say…forget it. Forget him and all his stupid responsibilities. I dont need him and he isn’t that special anyway. Besides, he shaved his beard off and cut his hair the day after I pulled a strand of it after class. I was just playing around. How could someone be that sensitive and he really looks like a nerd now…an adolescent nerd. You know, I dont think he likes me touching him at all.

January 2, 2003

Well, it had been a month and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had an idea that day that really cost me alot. I decided to find Timothy on the internet. I had tried this before but with no success. But when this ditsy girl that had a crush on him told me he was on this social site, it was too much to resist. She even went as far as to tell me some of the things he posted. It was hard hiding my excitement from her but I think she is none-the- wiser. I found his profile only after a few minutes and sent him a friend request. He accepted. But the kicker is that I changed my name and put up a cartoon avatar so he wouldn’t know who I was. I really thought that this was the only way to let him know how I felt. It was a really stupid thing to do and now I regret. it.

I made my profile and gave myself a name. My name is Lee, lee Anne and now I am officially a victim of strange love, the strange love that makes us do strange things.

March 12, 2003

It all fell apart and he knows who I am. He even told a lot of other people who I am too. I contacted him and told him how I feel and now I am a laughing stock. My friends wont talk to me because some other girl got blamed for stalking him first and it caused a lot of drama.

I think I will just fade away because love is strange but I shall never forget the boy with the string thing, even though he hates me and I cant stop thinking about him.

Timothy and the String Thing, a journal of strange love Part 1

2014-01-26T21:10:00.005-08:00

October 23, 2002

I do not recall how it occured or if it was all a figment of my imagination; but it seemed so real. The obvious connection we had and the intensity that flowed between us; was it true or was my mind struggling to create a fantasy? I do not know for sure but I know it will not go away.
Timothy was different. Yes, he was just another guitar playing brat no older than twenty…but something made him stand out from the other kids. Its like the pull of a magnet or the hunger of a starved child…so powerful. He was average build, with dark brown hair–you know, your ordinary guy. To most even boring, but not to me. His eyes held a depth unimaginable to most and his steps were always sure of themselves. Timothy smiled and the whole world seemed to change for that moment. All the sadness, the wars, the pain–the thoughts of darkness seemed to shrink back into my brain when he looked at me. He was a drug-no an antidote and I found myself addicted to him. If he knew he projected such energy…I do not know, but I know that he couldn’t contain it. That little something simply radiated from him almost to the point of visibility and I found myself, as a pitiful child wanting more…never satisfied by him. Timothy was not human-couldn't be and I was determined to find out why he was the reason I was restless.

October 31, 2002

Just a normal Halloween except for the fact that it was seventy degrees and I was thinking of a way to talk to the quiet musician. We never had classes together but I learned his schedule by the patterns he made between classes. Yes, I guess some would label me as a stalker but it wasn’t the case this time. I only purposefully placed myself in his path a couple of times and then I didn’t know what to say. Sometimes I was a blithering idiot. My words, on many occasions, ended up being stupid and redundant. I used events and situations as an excuse to talk to him. Unfortunately most of the time, I ended up staring into the darkness of his eyes and losing all sense of reality. Those eyes are marvelous you know…they are shaped like upside down crescent moons and when he smiled they almost completely close. I love the eyes. They tell the truth you know.

November 3, 2002

I saw him when I was leaving the cafeteria today and he was beautiful. Have you ever seen the movies where time slows down and a look lasts forever? Well that happen to me and I am still stunned from the electricity of it. My best friend was walking beside me and I kept elbowing her in the side to look at him. For some reason she kept saying she couldn’t see him…that just pissed me off royally. I told her that he looked like Jesus with his new beard he was growing. I feel kinda bad now too because when I look at the picture of the messiah on my wall I think of Timothy. What is happening to me?

Daddy's Dorothy

2014-01-04T01:47:00.002-08:00

Chrissy wondered many times what lingered beyond the rainbow. She wondered of leprchauns with pots of gold and even unicorns crossed her mind. She looked up at her aunt and smiled, then Chrissy would say,

"Aunt Laurie, what’s at the end of the rainbow?"

Aunt Laurie would always say, "There are magic things at the end of the rainbow and if you go there, the magic will not work.

This puzzled Chrissy and so she would think of other questions to ask her aunt. She would ask her why the magic didn’t work, she would ask about the things that made the magic, wondering if they were leprechans and then Chrissy would ask about her father again.

Everything ended up about her father.

Chrissy’s father had told her stories about the rainbow from the time she was old enough to understand. Stories of magical fairies and other things that would paint the colors in the sky. Her father would tickle her and whisper into her ear about all the magical things that roamed around the end of the rainbow. Chrissy would plead and beg with her father to go where the rainbow ended and he would just laugh. That is when he would tell her the same thing her aunt Laurie told her.

"Magic doesn’t work when you seek it out, my dear. Magic comes as it wants and it resides within your heart."

Chrissy didn’t understand much about what this meant and so she dreamed of those magic things every day.

When daddy went away, Chrissy thought he had gone to the rainbow’s end and this made her even more curious.

"Aunt Laurie, is daddy over there with the magic things?" Chrissy would tug her aunt Laurie’s sleeve and whine just a little. She wanted with all her heart to go find out.

Aunt Laurie would set down her dish cloth and squat down before her little neice. Then she would insist that they go outside for a while. There in the beauty of the summer sun, Aunt Laurie would show Chrissy the the beautiful flowers. Some days Aunt Laurie would take a walk with Chrissy in the back yard and look at the birds that passed by. . But every time, Chrissy wanted to talk about daddy and the rainbow.

"I want to go there. I want to go find daddy." Chrissy would plead until her aunt would talk about the flowers again.

Aunt Laurie would take Chrissy up into her arms and give her a promise. "One day, we will go find the magic too and there will be beautiful flowers there like these." Her aunt would pick a flower and tickle her nose with it. Chrissy would laugh.

Chrissy would be satisfied for a while and then she would begin again in a couple of days. Aunt Laurie tried her hardest but Chrissy grew tired and realized that Aunt Laurie was just too scared to go find the magic and she didn’t believe that daddy was there either.

Chrissy stuffed her teddy bear, Tiny, into her little pink sachel and decided to go find daddy on her own.

Daddy had gone away, all of a sudden. Some strange people came and said something about her father and her aunt cried. Chrissy’s mommy had gone away when Chrissy was born and Chrissy just never met her. Daddy and aunt Laurie was all she had, they loved her very much. Chrissy knew this.

When Chrissy’s aunt stopped crying and came to her, she said her father had went to a magic place. She said that all people go to the magic place when they get tired. Chrissy wondered why her daddy did not take her with him. She wondered and wondered for a long time and then the rainbow came and Chrissy understood.

"Daddy is over there, aunt Laurie." Chrissy smiled a big toothed grin and pointed toward the first rainbow of the season.

Aunt Laurie swallowed the knot in her throat and smiled down at Chrissy. She spoke in a soft voice to comfort her neice. "Yes, I guess her is, sweetheart."

Every since that day, Chrissy had wanted to go see him again.

…..

She wasn’t really scared in the woods, in fact, they seemed magical as well. She heard animals making strange noises and she thought that they were unicorns or something. She walked so long that her little legs began to hurt and itch from the thorns that scraped her skin. She walked and walked and hoped that the rainbow wasn’t going to disappear anytime soon. She glanced through the top of the trees and seen the beautiful colors overhead.

"I am coming daddy." She whispered and clutched her teddy tight.

As the day grew long and her legs grew tired, Chrissy knew the rainbow would go to sleep soon and the light would be gone. What would she do when the rainbow disappeared. Chrissy knew the magic would go when the rainbow went. She stopped in the path and she got very sad.

"Daddy, I tried. I wanted to see you but I am tired." Chrissy spoke to the air and then sat down on the forest floor. That is when she heard the voice and felt the hand upon her shoulder. She turned and looked up into her father’s face.

"Daddy! Oh Daddy!" Chrissy jumped up and squealed wrapping her arms around her father. "Daddy, I made it! I must be here! I found you! The magic.."

Chrissy’s father smiled and pulled her up into his arms. He spoke softly to her " You found me, yes you did and now you must sleep and I will take you home."

Chrissy woke on the front porch of her aunt’s house. The sun was rising and she felt happy. In her hand was a flower she knew it was from the magic place.

Aunt Laurie’s voice was heard upstairs calling her and sobbing. Chrissy ran inside and up the stairs. When her aunt saw her, she didn’t scold Chrissy, nor did she get angry. Aunt Laurie grabbed Chrissy and hugged her tight, then she spoke softly to her neice.

"Where have you been, oh god, where have you been? I was worried sick!"

Chrissy smiled and touched her aunt’s face, then spoke very clearly. "I found it, aunt laurie, I found the magic and daddy, he was there, just like you said."

Aunt Laurie looked at her neice and frowned. Before she could speak, Chrissy held out the little flower.

"He said, this is for you."

redundancy

2014-01-04T01:31:00.000-08:00

It never happens like you think it should. It doesn't rain when the storm clouds come, and I'll be damned if it ever snows. It's hot when it is cold and it is cold when it is hot. Look outside your car window and see the blue of the sky and you ask me, "How do you feel?"

The horse, yes, it did appear to be white and the knight had armor that was rather shiny, from a distance. The horse lays dead at my feet and the knight's armor is tarnished from warfare. Things are not as they seem.

Did you find the clue that I left you? It was over by the large oak. You know, the one we used to play around, when hide and seek was the game... You remember, on the day that the weather lied to us and you lied to me. I grew angry and I just left.

If you look, you will find it. I left a soft thing among the leaves and it was back in autumn. By now, my gift is frozen in the snow that never came and the friendship that was forgotten.

Nothing is ever as it seems and we are all liars.

Lorabelle and the man who woke up

2014-01-03T00:00:00.001-08:00

It was stupid, very stupid. To go back to that place that was locked and to open the door. The stupidity of the situation was enough for a small child to understand, much less an adult; but she went back. Lorabelle went back to that odd little place and she glanced into that room again.

There, she saw him. He was lying on his side, covered to the waist by a fleece blanket. She crept in and watched him sleeping. Her eyes fell upon his hair, his eyelashes and his mouth. She wondered if she was really there, staring upon him; or if she was just dreaming. She pinched herself for emphasis. He slept soundly at first and then some dream made him twitch. A moment later, he turned to his other side and settled back in for another bout of his dream, maybe.

Lorabelle couldn’t figure out what she was feeling; but she wouldn’t leave the doorway. She knew that at any moment, he might wake and see her standing there. He could say anything to her now. He could ask her to stay again, he could tell her to go away and yet, he could choose to say nothing at all, and that was the worst one yet. She knew she should lock the door again, she should turn and go and never think on it, at all, no never. Lorabelle was never good with goodbyes and she knew that if he was to awaken, she would just stand there and stare at him while he spoke or while he said nothing at all. Lorabelle was a girl that felt too much and thought much less than she should. Yes, Lorabelle should leave again, pull the door closed behind her and lock it up tight this time. Lorabelle didn’t do that and the man woke up.

He sat up, suddenly in the bed, fleece blanket fell down around his hips and his hand lay limp on the top of the cover. His eyes were strange things, the way they tested her upon first contact. His eyes were never weak, they asked questions as soon as they opened. It was his strength and his weakness all in one. She couldn’t move, as she knew would be the issue. His lips curled up and with a simple smile he held out his hand, the left one. Lorabelle’s eyes widened in horror. She has done as she had said she never would again. She went to him, she unlocked that which she had locked away. Her God frowned and she felt it ripple through her soul.

“Gamain, why are you here?” She braved a question that was full of wisdom and stupidity. It seemed that the ignorance had taken flight and flew in for a better look at its own destruction.

He exhaled heavily and dropped his hand. As he spoke, it was clear as always. “You kept me here, all along. Lorabelle, you never truly let them go and you never let me go either. In fact…” he gestured around the room with both hands “You even created a room for me here, in your head.”

Lorabelle swallowed that terrible knot and she knew he was right. Why, most of the time he was. There wasn’t many times that Gamain told lies. Some of the hardest truths he braved to tell Lorabelle. She didn’t know if it was because he hated her or that he loved her. She found his truths to be harsh and it angered her. She felt her own self- control running through her fingers and onto the floor every time he invaded her secret thoughts. And so, tonight, today…or whatever this world was where Gamain was still here….she was again and again in that room. The room where he was waiting for her.

“Lorabelle, you did this. I cannot leave until you let me. I cannot stay away until you lock that door for good. You gotta stop peeking back inside if you want me to go away.” Gamain suddenly looked sad and Lorabelle gripped the door facing.

Her nails dug into the wood and she could even hear it crackle beneathe her nails.

It was one of those times, those times where something hurt so much that no sobbing was needed to push forth the tears. They flowed effortlessly from the lids of her eyes. They were not hot, nor wear they cold, they just were and real they were. She walked into the room, closer to Gamain. He held out his hand again and bid her to come near him. She didn’t stop for a second because it was something she had to do. She had to put her arms around him and inhale Gamain.

“I missed you, Lorabelle.”

She sighed and spoke, “yeah…”

As she felt him hug her tighter, she pulled away and pushed his arms back. She stood suddenely at the realization of what she was doing. His body had responded to her and she felt it in many places as her chest, her arms and her whole being leaned into his embrace. When she felt this, she had to let go, she had to pull back. Her god was furious now and she could hear him in her head, fighting with Gamain and his thoughts that had also broken into her sacred space. She looked down at Gamain’s waist and then further and saw that he was still hers. She was horrified suddenly by the fact that she had broken the lock. She was angry, so very angry that she had opened the door. She hated herself with something much more than passion for walking into this room. Lorabelle stood back and shook her head.

“No Gamain, no.” Lorabelle cried and turned to go. She heard Gamain calling her name and that was all she heard. She walked out and pulled the door closed, then she stopped. The lock was there and it was swinging from the hinge. She pulled it closed in a sharp angry twist.

“No Gamain, no.”

Lorabelle stopped still in the hallway and looked at her hands. He never was real and she knew that. Her dreams of Gamain were only parts of her that dared to relinquish control. Her portions would never be free in fear of something that had no safety net. She could not walk upon a track with no end. She could not see the sun of this, nor the moon of this…nor anything. Gamain was the part that the Lamectil would murder and the Citalpram would soothe from her mind. Her mentality fought suddenly, bringing Lorabelle to her knees.

“Lorabelle…”

The voice from the locked door, it called to her. This time it was after her and so she ran down the hall. The hallway was neverending and sooner than later, she was at his door again.

“Lorabelle, please…”

She stopped and checked her pulse, in fear that she might be done for. Lorabelle knew what was right, she knew the prayers that she had spoken day after day. She knew the pathway and how it curved to her destiny of lesser complications, the easy roadway, she surmised.

“Lorabelle, open the door.”

She touched the wood of the door and imagined that she could feel his breath and his skin. She exhaled deeply and her mind grazed the forbidden.

“Gamain…”

Lorabelle looked at the lock and then to her right hand which was now holding a key. She pushed the key into the lock and turned. The lock burst open and fell to the floor. As her eyes went up to meet the door, she thought about last chances. This was the last chance she had to do what was right. Lorabelle rubbed the wood of the door and lay her forehead against it.

“Gamain, what future is there…”

There was silence. For a moment, Gamain said nothing and then he spoke. “I cannot say, Lorabelle…I don’t know.”

Lorabelle opened the door and say him standing there naked. In his left hand, he held a small handgun. She guessed that It was a nine or something like that. She guessed but only fleetingly because she knew there were two bullets there. One to give and one to get. She smiled.

“Gamain, what future is there?”

He held the gun to her head and those eyes, they told a lie.

“I cannot say, Lorabelle…I don’t know…”

The purrfect lover

2013-12-30T17:25:00.002-08:00

"So, you hate cats"

The bitter twang hung at the back of my throat. The pleasure I felt from before was gone and the look in your eyes proclaimed you knew that something had turned. The thing that had turned was my last shred of hope for us. You see, I cannot feel any different about them. I know that people sacrifice things for the one they love all the time. I guess I could have agreed with you then and there but I could only stare transfixed by your words. I was even having trouble taking them in, they were so fowl and the stench of them made me nauseous.

I can see by the look on your face that you wish to run. There is not much left to hold you here because of the silly imaginations that you have conjured. I guess the coincidences of the past few days have made you think in a rather supernatural way, not common to your regular thought patterns. And, I noticed that you let it slip, the truth: that thing that was an ordinary part of you from the beginning. I see that you have admitted to your distaste for all things feline. Was it the reversal candle on the makeshift altar, was it in the way I took the pain from your wound with my hand print or was it simply the smell of Nag Champa in the air that drove you mad a little? I think it was the whole ambience of everything that surrounded you, paired with the sudden yowling from the kitchen. The female was in heat and this made you scowl so hard that you just didn’t cover it up in time.

I saw that, I saw everything you tried so hard to hide. The words you chose, oh so carefully, just weren’t careful enough. All this time I thought you were just hiding the fact that you found felines delightfully interesting. But you really do, don’t you? You really do hate cats."

"I never said I hated cats" as you spoke, your eyes looked wild and strange. You couldn’t believe I could tell so easily. "I just, wouldn’t have them in my house, that’s all."

Such an innocent expression which meant nothing at all. Did you really think that would soothe me considering you had talked of our relationship? Did you think that perchance, I would give them up to make you happy? My realization made me sit and stare at you until you said you had to leave. There was just nothing you could say and you knew it.

I stood and faced you full on, ready for whatever nonsense came rushing from your lips on your next blubbering admission. I stared deep within your green eyes and I saw it there. Oh, I saw everything you tried to hide and it enraged me. OH, I didn’t mean to get angry, it was the thing within that really got mad. The part of me that you cannot see was on fire at your truth. I just stood and stared at you with no words.

The big gray one with only one eye crept up behind you and brushed your leg. You jumped and spun around, kicking at the air. The kittie hissed and retreated back into the hallway.

"I have to go, Beni." You said as if suddenly you had thought of some urgent appointment that awaited your presence.

And so I felt suddenly sad. I may have seemed sad because you were leaving but my sadness came from your admission. I just couldn’t stomach the fact that you said what you did. As I turned to bury my face in the pillow, I saw two of them watching you. I knew they were angry after witnessing you throwing one of their own from the bed.

I buried my face deeply and refused to rise to kiss you goodbye.

"Oh come now, aren’t you going to give me a kiss before I leave?" your voice sounded forced and barely concerned. I could smell your fear and it was disgusting. I loathed and loved you all in one instant and then it all came careening down in a fireball of confusion.

I shook my head in the pillow and did not rise at all. I knew they were still in the doorway watching you. I didn’t care much.

You even sat back down on the bed and pulled me up a little. I voluntarily rolled over and looked at your face. I couldn’t hide my sadness from you and you saw it too. Your eyes grew wide with a look that told me that you thought I was crazy, nuts and over the rainbow.

"No!" I stated and pulled the pillow over my head. When I moved it away, you were still looking as astonished as before.

You rose and with a last word you spoke. "You are being selfish, I have to go."

And you left and that is fine. But it was too late, much too late and there was absolutely nothing that I could do for you now.

Night came swiftly but my sleep did not. I lie awake and twirled a long red hair around my finger. I thought of you. I wondered if you were sleeping and then I laughed. I felt the fires rise up again on the inside and I pushed the back of my head into the pillow. Arching my back and curling my toes, I stretched, desperately trying to push the angry thoughts from my brain. It was already in motion and I could feel it. The thoughts went drifting out from my lips and twisted into a smoky knot of ill intent, there before my sleepless eyes. I squinted and tried to focus on the energy as it twirled around and around itself, growing larger by the second. The humanity of me reached out for the ball of energy and tried to take it back in, tried desperately to control the power that grew there. It was useless. The energy grew huge and then, as if pulled by a strong wind, went zipping out the bedroom door. I rose from the bed and ground my teeth.

"damnit!"

Deep within my head, I heard her speak. The one who always lives there despite the changes. My immortal ever-loving soul. She told me fate had happened and there was no turning back now. All my kitties climbed in bed with me and lulled me to sleep. The voice within spoke to me from wakefulness on into my dreams.

I cannot help you now; your tongue has already danced a jig that will forever be emblazoned on the fabric of time. I watch your eyes dance too. Your brain has realized the truth as your mouth released it.

You will sleep tonight and your dreams will be filled with them. I tried to convince them that you were harmless, but they wouldn’t have any of my weak explanations. You see, I cannot own them. I cannot whisper things into their ears and expect them to follow my lead. I tried to catch your words as they floated from your lips. I tried to ask you why but you were steadfast in your ramblings.

Tonight they will come just outside your door and they will wait. If you try to strike them, the hand that you uplift will growl in pain. If you try to take them by the neck, bashing their brains out; they will hop away and you shall stumble upon your face. Every night, they will visit you and cry till the moon moves four hands across the sky. Some nights you will go outside and nothing shall be there but your own desolate shadow. They will wait and they will move from side to side sniffing at the frame of your window until you open your sanctum to the night.

I tried to get you to take it all back but you refused. I cannot help you. The things that you perceived to be real are only figments of your imagination. The things that you perceived to be fantasy are more real for you now than your hand in front of your face. Time has twisted its root deeply into the bowels of your fleeting game.

Tired, you wanted more and so I gave it. I waited to feel something real and then was left alone to contemplate the meaning of what had happened. I am perplexed, I shall not lie.

They growl at the notion of such lunacy.

I have 25 of them and they all have names. You never cared to learn their names and I shall not state them here. The only place their names reside is within my journal. I took a record of them when I got them or when they were born and this is the only place that holds their souls. I keep this information safe there. I guess I just write this so that something can redeem me of my own soul. I tried to tell him. I tried to warn him and it just did not matter in the end.

I promise, I never sent them, they just went.

I scribble these words because I want someone to know what happened and that It was not my fault. I mean, something inside me rose up and revolted against him and his hatred, but I swear it wasn’t me. I just remember he left and then that was it. There was nothing more.

I woke the morning after you left and my front door was open. There were no cats in the house except for the one with the bobtail. He sat in the doorway and seemed to smile at me. I was in such shock that at first I didn’t even panic. I just stood there and tried to understand that all my cats were outside. Before I could do much more thinking at all, one by one, they came rushing through the door. I fell to my knees and began to count them desperately as they rushed by. I felt ridiculous there upon my knees counting my cats one by one and two by two. I felt almost, animalistic. Some of them were very dirty and one even had a limp.

"Oh my poor babies" I would speak to them. "And you have been very bad!"

They may have given me a passing glance and maybe they didn’t but it didn’t matter at all.

Before I closed my front door, I noticed a very frantic cat sitting in my driveway. It’s eyes were looking up toward where I stood. I thought it was a very pretty cat until I realized it was you.

"Guys… what did you do?" I spoke to all my family which sat perched behind me with curly tails. All 25 cats stared toward where I stood and I knew what I had to do.

"Here…kitty kitty…" I called to you and you didn’t come at first. I could tell that you were very angry at me for what I had done. The thing is, I couldn’t help it and I couldn’t wish it away. It was too late.

But I promise you, you can stay here with us for as long as you want, even though you hate cats. I will make it as comfortable for you as I can.

I didn’t mean to get mad at you, its just that…it’s not easy for me to keep them at bay. It really is very hard, you see.

I hated humans once, despised them actually.

And this is what it did to me.

I looked down at my hands and realized that I still had so much trouble getting used to being without fur. I really hated walking upright like this and this talking thing was so hard sometimes. I am, although, very good at grammar and writing. I can write anything I want. Must be a gift from another life when I was human before. I have so many strange and unpleasant things that I am getting used to; and there are so many strange things that I shall never get used to. I write backwards and forwards and....ouch, I still have fleas. I hate fleas.

But I find it curiously pleasant to be able to write my thoughts and make most people believe that I was born this way. I guess it is truly amazing. I even think like they do now, human and semi-ordinary, I suspect.

I hated humans until I became one and now I understand why they are so cold, so bitter toward us. It is the human nature to feel inadequate I suppose. I almost feel bad for them. I wonder will this work with you too. I wonder if you shall find peace in your new form, my dear.

I hope so…for your sake. Else you will not fit in here very well. I hope you understand that I only wanted the best for you.

Come, let’s have a nice cup of milk, shall we.

　

summer is a lie and so is the blue sky

2013-11-30T01:40:00.002-08:00

I saw the blue skies as I walked down the road to my house. I saw them there, peeking through the slithering cottony clouds. It was hard and cold and blue and all I wanted to do was forget it. I wanted it all to just go away and become dark and ominous...maybe turn and revive itself into a different cheerful hue for a different story.

But it didn't. That painful hard blue sky, it stayed there and it looked at me. I thought I could turn away and I did for a moment. I trudged up the muddy embankment to my little brick house. I sat upon the lawn chair a moment and looked down at my running shoes. There were holes there, one in the toe and two on each side above the sole. This was my right foot, indeed, and it seemed I had been kicking about a bit as I was running. I had marred and destroyed my shoes in a quest to kick all the fire out of my soul.

But the blue sky reached down and reminded me that he was still there.

What does it mean? What does it matter anyway. If the blue sky cannot be possessed then why does it get to come by and remind me that it is much too far away to touch? In the cold dead lull of winter, why does the blue sky taunt and tease about how dreadfully lonely it is when it is gone.

On those days when it is dark and I have to take my vitamin D and take deep breaths to stay alive, why does it matter at all? The blue sky is gone then and outside things look gray.

They all look gray.

Happiness isn't wrong and it is fulfilling. But I want to shoot an arrow into the blue sky and see if I can inflict any pain there and maybe it will stop watching me when I run.

It will stop deceiving me and I will know that it is still winter and cold...cold as a dead heart.

The Nature of the Beast 9 (unfinished ending)

2013-10-28T21:38:00.001-07:00

I was on my knees and I looked up toward Lawrence who stood blocking the sunlight. I couldn’t see his expression or anything really past the black silhouette of his head. I had no idea what he thought of my admission. I would never find out either because the girl from the village who always treated me as if I was never good enough, she came walking toward my shack. I saw her hard steps and clenched fists as she fast approached us. There was nothing I could do but rise and stumble back toward my doorway. I knew this was not going to be a peaceful confrontation by the set of her jaw and the look in her eyes. She did, however, have this strange smirk about her face and it brought shivers to my bones. I wanted away from here and so I stood directly in my open doorway. Lawrence turned to see why I was retreating.

Her name was Ramona, for whatever it is worth. For, as soon as she reached Lawrence, she was chattering loudly.

“Whatever are you doing out here, Lawrence?” Ramona stood and glared form him to me and put her hands on her hips. She motioned toward me and then leaned in to whisper.

Lawrence looked and me and then back to Ramona. I saw a strange pity in his eyes and then fear. He leaned back toward Ramona and his hands started to move rapidly, pointing, waving and then growing still. Ramona leaned in once more and pulled at his shirt. She pulled harder still and tugged him from my porch and into the pure light of day. He jerked away from her hands and turned back toward me. I saw him fold his arms across his chest and sigh. I could see his face much better and his eyes glimmered in the sunlight. One more tug from Ramona and Lawrence turned angrily toward her and barked his protest. I heard his last words and they were strange.

“She isn’t a witch, Ramona!” Lawrence screamed and then immediately put his hand back over his mouth. He realized a little too late that he had spoken way too loudly. His face was a mass of confusion.

He had no certainty in what he said, any more than I knew with any certainty that I would be able to resist the next turn.

I stood timidly. I could feel myself shaking but I wanted to be brave.

Lawrence spoke once more, “Yelvina, I am sorry. I have to go.”

I watched them leave together and felt my heart sink. I knew she was there to protect him from me. They all were. I should be thankful that they all didn’t kill me. I was blessed to be alone and without them.

The lies I fed myself were not comforting. The nights that followed were not comforting either. I did not find solace in the fact that things would forever be unfinished and unknown.

As I finish my last entry of my journal, I wonder what it will be like somewhere else. I wonder if I shall ever forget Lawrence, and I doubt this as I roll the thought around in my head.

I will not say that I am innocent because I am not. I could try to forget, but I will not, not ever. I cannot say when it happened, as I cannot remember when I was cursed with my illness. I see them parallel. My love and my destruction have come upon me from out of nowhere and changed my entire life.

I cannot always have what I want. I have wished upon every star of the night to be normal like the others. I have wished upon those same stars to have one night with Lawrence again just so I could say goodbye in a proper manner.

Sometimes, I have found, you just never get what you want. Unfortunately, this doesn’t dull the aching.

As my lupine feet hit the ground, I hunger.

As my human feet touch the ground, I weep.

Which pain is worse, I have no idea.

But when I weep, I remember.

The Nature of the Beast 8 (To love a beast)

2013-10-28T21:36:00.001-07:00

In an attempt to save my soul, I hid away again. I downed my black bear cloak and sat within my little shack. The air was growing cooler and so it was comfortable to do this. It was still some time until my next moon and so I busied myself with experimenting with teas and stews. I cooked rabbit stew with wild turnips and made cakes from acorn paste. The herbs I found were splendid in creating a wonderful taste to my wild feasts. I took in wild onion, dandelion greens and also clover and mint. I noticed the mint was wonderful upon my tongue and so I inhaled to feel the coolness of it.

I studied again with the sister round the fire and felt my laughter bubble up and out of me like a fountain. I found much fun in the days that followed with my others. The things I learned and the things I enjoyed made my chest feel full and my legs longed to run in happiness.

I would lay down when I was tired, there by the fire. I felt the cool air grow crisp and I thought of going inside the shack. There was a part of me however that was never really there.

This was always hard to explain to myself, much less others. I could be happy, laughing away but then when I grew still, I felt disjointed. I would search the days and nights for why I was unhappy. There had to be a reason why that little dark place never gained any light from my mirth.

On those cold and crisp nights, I would look up into the black sky and see the stars. I pretended that I could talk to them and that they could help me. I spoke in my mind and questioned them as I would have questioned others. I wanted to know why I had this void. They never answered me, they just kept winking at me from above. I would pull my huge bear skin blanket up over me and turn away from them. That is when I would just look into the fire. I questioned the fire as well. The fire was just as quiet as the stars.

When I grew weary of questioning everything, I closed my eyes. The water from tears unfallen would pool underneath my lids until they pushed out and over my cheeks. I knew it had to happen, the tear would always fall. It would never be right, until I knew for certain.

I would never rest until I knew how he felt.

In a fortnight, the moon was full and the alconitum did not work. I remember waking near the village, just behind the blackberry bushes. I had blood all over my body.

Of course I ran right back to my home. I washed in the lake and hid beneath my furs. I was terrified. I had no idea what had happened the night before. I wanted to know who or what had become my victim and how far I would have to run. I waited for days within my shack, eating scraps from the days before. I heard nothing.

When I finally decided to go outside, I saw Lawrence coming up from the north field. I was shocked, so shocked that I even ducked back inside. Every nerve in my body reacted to him, every little twitching muscle drove me to peer back around the doorway at his approach. He was dressed as before, with plain trousers and shirt. He looked a little frightened as he glanced from left to right and then back at my home. I couldn't stand it anymore and so I walked out to greet him.

He stopped a few feet away and just stared at me. I didn't say anything either but I smiled a bit.

He spoke first and he said, "I wanted to come and warn you, that there is a beast on the loose. I think you should be careful out here."

I felt relief at the fact that this was just protocol; at the

same time, I wanted more.

"Thank you, Lawrence. I have my weapons and I have seen no "beasts" round here."

He bit the corner of his lip and then shuffle around with his feet. I saw that he wanted to say something like he always does, but he kept quiet.

"Do you wish to tell me anything else, Lawrence?" I spoke bravely.

He held out his hand to me and offered something familiar. It was my mother's locket. I immediately felt for my throat and seen that it was indeed gone. I was angry at myself for losing it and even angrier still for not knowing that it was gone. In all the strange and harrowing aftermath of my transformation, I had neglected to notice the absence of the locket.

"Here, I think this is yours. I remember you showing this to me many times before. I just wanted to make sure you didn't lose it."

I reached and took the necklace in a hurry and gripped it tightly in my fist. Opening my hand, I noticed that the locket was also covered in dark blood. I glanced at his hand and it too was spotted with blood. I had no idea what it meant and so I sat down on the ground, then and there.

"Lawrence, can I tell you something?" I spoke looking up at him with sincerity.

"yes, of course." he answered timidly. His eyes grew bigger and his anticipation beamed in his gaze.

"I really like you, Lawrence. I mean, I like you and I want you to see the truth of me."

He looked confused and turned his head to the side. I know my mind was different, that I was different and that I was the beast and that he probably knew I was the beast....at least in some distant place in his mind. I knew that he knew and I couldn't seem to get it deep enough into his mind to get him to grasp it. I wanted, for one moment in time, for denial to disappear.

Lawrence looked shocked and he just stood stunned.

" I love you in the only way broken things can love."

The Nature of the Beast 7 (Lack of communication)

2013-10-28T21:35:00.001-07:00

We sat, and for a very long period, we only fumbled with our hands. I heard him first speak to me before I looked up from the waters silvery surface. He seemed calm and wanted to ask me many questions about how I was doing out here in the wilderness. He always looked surprised and bright eyed about it all.

He carried this strange luminating optimism whenever he was in a good mood which contrasted starkly with his other side. I had seen him angry before, when his father had left him with too many chores to do, he had grown very livid and he had kicked things around, shouting profanities. I remember that I had laughed at him and he had grown angry at me as well, throwing an apple in my direction.

I watched his eyes dance as he listened, waiting for me to answer his silly questions. They were not questions that I wanted him to ask because I was impatient. I wanted to be mean, all of a sudden. I wanted to call him out on things that I had noticed, things that he wished to stay hidden. But, I decided to smile and put my mask on for a while…and just answer the silly questions. Maybe if I answered the silly ones, he would ask something more interesting.

“I am fine, Lawrence.”

Suddenly he looked sad. He and I both knew that this conversation could easily shift in any direction. I was terrified of humans, simply because they made me feel so sub-par. From early childhood, I have felt like I do not belong among them. I felt that way up until I finally left them all. Here in the wilderness, it was different. The animals did not see me as the humans saw me. The animals were kind and understanding. I decided then to give him my generic answer once more to keep him from digging further.

“I am really fine, doing great out on my own. I like it here.”

I smiled then turned away from him. I couldn’t stand to look into his eyes. That was one place that I did not think I could ever escape from if I lingered too long. I had so many words fighting to get through my lips. I felt them quivering as he talked about how the village really needed me and how my gifts could be of great use. I started to drift away in his words.

I looked at him suddenly and spoke from off the top of my head. “Why did you come here? Why have you been spying on me and not saying anything?”

I meet his eyes and this time, I decided to hold them there.

He did not speak at first and then he started to sputter between words and random sounds. It was clear that he didn’t expect that question at all.

“I mean it, Lawrence…I guess you shall do as you always have and leave me to question everything because your torment is so great. I mean it, Lawrence, I want to know.”

Lawrence didn’t speak because Lawrence never speaks freely of himself. He answers my questions when he wants to, when it is convenient for him and not too awkward. He paints the sky blue when it is really black, he tries to make me feel like everything is perfect when it is so very painful. He tries to make me see that I am normal when I am not. He denies everything. He looks at me and he closes his eyes on the inside, because that is safe.

I rose from that spot and realized that I was in terrible pain. The realization that he would leave and I would be alone again, that feeling tore through me and burned like a hot blade. I had to go, I had to run.

All I could think of was running. I wanted to rip through the underbrush and jump the spring, up the hill and into the fields. I wanted to run until I had left the pain behind. But I stood there. I looked down at him and knew that he was not pleased by my question. His forehead creased and he let out a long exhale.

He spoke, he did. “I am sorry, Yelvina.”

And then he rose too and he left. I was still standing on the levee when Andreea put her phantom arms around me and Ona kissed my cheek.

“Its okay sweetie, let us make you some tea.”

The Nature of the Beast 6 (The man I love)

2013-10-28T21:33:00.001-07:00

I saw him again and his presence startled him. I saw his face right before he ducked down behind the brush. The sight of him reminded me of a ground hog ducking back down into his hole, this made me laugh.

“Lawrence, whatever are you doing?”

I was in a right cheerful mood and decided to even move toward him. The sun was out and bright, the skies were void of any clouds and blue as blue was not the real color of Lawrences eyes. I stopped in my tracks and examined my thought process of the moment. I realized that even nature was vain to try and mimick the beauty of this human being that hid from me. The sky could never be as blue as Lawrence and his eyes…eyes that changed like my moods.

“Lawrence, I am having quite a day of madness. I would love it if you came out from hiding for a moment. I need to have a word with you.”

I pushed aside the branches and held up the edge of my skirt with the other hand. I had to climb across the rocks and across the levee to get to him. He was still there because I could smell him. I loved the way he smelled, it was magical and the way….I realized that I was obsessing again and so I called out once more.

“Listen here, you little short man! I could have you in my hands and beating the life of ya, in a minute!”

Lawrence stood then and straightened his vest and trousers. His face looked strange and hot with anger. This was even very attractive and amusing to me.

I spoke then as I grew very near him. “what say, we have a seat on the levee and talk? I am rather curious as to why you are hiding in my bushes.”

Lawrence looked confused and spoke suddenly. “Your bushes? I thought this was just part of the public domain?”

I smiled and shook my head. “no sweet cakes, this is my domain. I hunt this land. By my rights, this is part of me yard. See, that’s me house, there.” I pointed to the shack just north of the levee.

“I see, I suppose we can have a sit and chat, then.”

We walked side by side to the levee’s edge. The water of the lake was beautiful. I saw him in the reflection and I smiled. I saw myself there too.

And there was no beast.

The Nature of the Beast 5 ( The duality)

2013-10-28T21:32:00.000-07:00

When my eyes met hers, she relented to my stare. I spoke once more and it was all that I was going to say on that matter.

“yes, I love him…and that is why I would never…never…ever……take something that is not feely given from someone that I truly love.”

I left her standing there in the darkness of my mind.

I came to my little shack, opened the door and sat against the wall.

I thought of Lawrence and hoped that he would make it back safely.

In reality, I really do not know what to say about him. He was always very courteous to me, smiling and being a right gentleman. There was always this undertone of something though. I could smell something in his demeanor, it smelled sweet and alluring and sometimes I had to turn away because it was so strong. Lawrence would always end our conversations quickly as if he had to get away. I believed this to be that he didn’t really care for my company all that much, like the girls of the village. Then there were times that his face would light up when he seen me. I was confused, to be quite honest and so I left it alone and tried to fit in with the other girls. Of course that would be a lost cause and now I am in the forest in the company of me.

Lawrence stayed away for a bit and I really didn’t know what to make of it. Had he grown tired of spying on me? Were the women teaching him that I was bad business? I had no idea why and I realized that I was worrying entirely too much about someone from the outside of my existence. I resolved to think of other things…things like my studies. The others Andreea, Ona and myself, we sat sitting by the fire again and learned the ways of the Duality.

The Duality, unlike the Triad was placed in existence to teach us that everything has darkness and light. My sisters put their hands on the fire and spoke together.

“Mother earth put out the fire, show us darkness in this shire”.

All was black as long as my sisters held down the embers of the dying fire. The looked up and I looked up with them.

Andreea spoke. “You see…up there, the stars, the great mother moon. Their home is pure.”

I looked up at the moon and cringed. I knew the moon for things

unspeakable. It’s face reminded me of nights covered in the gore of my kill. I did not see the moon as my friend. The others frowned toward me as they noticed my face had grown angry.

Ona spoke. “We know why you hate the moon so. You must not hate the moon. The moon is not at fault for your pain. The moon is there to guide you. See it for the beauty it is.”

At that, I left the fire. I didn’t finishe my lessons that night nor did I return to the fire for a weeks past. The sisters did not come to me either; they let me work through my pain. By the time I was ready to return to the fire, the fullness of the moon was very nearly upon me.

I walked up to their circle, fire burning brightly; and sat down upon mother earth. The lesson that night was about wolf. I tried not to flinch, I tried not to grow angry. I learned that wolf was the light. The sisters pointed back to the moon and smiled at me.

“see, your dear friend holds the light for another, like a jar full of fireflies. The light is life and the light resides in the wolf.

I was disgusted by them. This time I left the fire and did not return until my moon had passed. When I returned from the hunt on the last night of the blood moon, I told them that I had no more interest in Raven and wolf. They said they would teach me other things instead.

Their disapproval was obvious. I stared into my own face, three fold around the fire. I saw my own disappointment reflected…..as I had saw the beast in the water’s surface reflecting a part of me as well

The Nature of the Beas 4t (The quiet, not so quiet visitor)

2013-10-28T21:30:00.001-07:00

When better times come, I make Alconitum for suppression of the transformation. For many moons to come, I will suffer through the pains of not being able to change. My whole body will scream in agony for the duration of the moon, but I will remain whole.

I started to travel closer to the village out of curiosity but then a couple of the girls scared me away with their loud chuckling and cavorting around. I scurried back into the forest that time, just like a frightened mouse. I decided that was enough for me.

I started on my upswing and the triad returned to me. My joyous heart almost burst when welcoming my invisible sisters. I am sure it would have been a funny sight to see me talking round the fire to phantoms. All was peaceful and quiet but for my silly bantering back and forth and the night sounds of the animals. It was all quiet except for that sudden sound one night that brought me out of my reverie with the triad and standing at attention, I proved the night.

“who is there?” I shouted into the darkness and reached down into my newly fashioned sash. I pulled out my antler blade and held it at ready.

The sound came again and then disappeared in the distance. After a few more enlightening lessons from the sisters, I had forgotten about my mysterious visitor. I fell asleep by the fire.

I cannot say that this was the last and only episode. On many occasions while bathing in the lake, I heard a scratching sound that was much too large for small animals. I felt vulnerable at the time and so from that day forward, I held my antler blade while bathing. It was awkward but I was taking no chances while under the effects of the Alconitum. While on the concoction, I was little more than a strong village girl. I was helpless. While walking from the lake, I wove a shield of white energy to surround and protect me for good measure. I stepped from the lake bed just as the shuffling noises faded once more. I knew then that I had an audience. I would have to bring this to an end soon for my safety.

And so I consulted the sisters, of my strand, about the mysterious visitor.

The visitor kept coming and I started to realize that he was harmless. He never made himself known and he never talked. I knew it was a man because I could smell him. I started to get hints of his familiarity by the strength of his bloodline. After a few more strange visits, I realized who he was.

It was Lawrence.

When the realization hit me, I decided to follow him. As he started to make his retreat, I wound back to intersect him. I could sense his surprise but he said nothing. I was almost upon him when I heard several voices calling in the distance. Two women and a child had followed him into the forest and the older woman seemed to be very angry. I pulled back and sprinted off toward my home. As I was running I realized who the woman was. She was the one who insisted on reminding me about how incompetent I was, on the day that I abandoned the village. I stopped abruptly and took inventory of all my emotions.

At my side stood Ona. She leaned in and whispered softly into my ear.

“Call him to you…..use the love spell, the secret one.”

I glanced at her and realized that she had angered me. I shook my head and pursed my lips.

“NO! not on this one…..I would never!”

One spoke again and her eyes grew dark. “But why, you love him.”

The Nature of the Beast 3 (Delusions of Granduier)

2013-10-28T21:26:00.001-07:00

Ona was the dark one. Her magic was born of the ancient way. Her colors represented blood and the night. She taught me how to send back the energies of my enemies. I found that I did not need her magic as long as I was alone. My enemies were few and far between, as far as I could see and reversals were taken in stride in Ona’s teaching. She also offered up the stronger winds of fate for me as a last resort of protection and so I learned to utilize that sect of my magic regimen.

Andreea taught me the ways of healing. I learned to pass energy down and out of my limbs and into the sick. A wounded rabbit was lying near the spring and Andreea told me to heal the animal. At first I could do nothing and then at the third try, harnessing the power of 3, I felt the warmth radiate through my hands and into the bloody fur of the hare. In moments, the animal turned and bit me in a twisted version of thanks. It hurt like hell but I smiled at the fact that I had learned to heal small animals. She then taught me to reverence and give thanks before she spirited away so Yelvina could take over.

I, Yelvina, learned the plants and their usages, I learned the crafts of fortune and longevity; but then I grew saddened at my last lesson. One stepped in, when Yelvina refused to call to the patron of love.

Ona, Andreea and Yelvina all then started to teach me the love of self. We sat in a circle around my fire and chanted the fire to “come” I opened my mouth and the flames danced in, marching like little fireflies upon my tongue. I felt the warmth pass through me and began to sing. The voice of the triad made the forest go quiet and then I fell to sleep to dream.

The next day, Ona secretly taught me how to lure love to my abode. She warned me not to tell the others or else she would have to go away forever. I promised Ona and bid her farewell for the season. One silohette dissipated in the smoke of the dying fire from the night before.

The season was coming and so the Triad left me, one at a time, and went to wherever triads might go. I was alone again, three nights before my moon. I prepared myself for the transformation.

My seasons are not with every blood moon, I will not allow it. I cannot face my beast that often, it scares me so. On those times that I let myself run wild and free, I sometimes catch a glimpse of my reflection in a pool of standing water, the spring or even the lake. I do not like what I see and I always remember. If I see myself, I cry because I hate my gift, my illness, my disorder. Deep within the secret parts of me, I have sometimes deceived myself into believing that those village girls have a better life. They have comfort and a regular routine. The face of the beast does strange things to my mind and at that moment directly after transformation, I am tormented horribly by what I cannot have.

I keep to myself the secret desire to have what they have and to be able to fit in with those nasty girls.

It is not until much later, after the blood moon has passed that I realize my delusions of granduier.

I will never be like the villagers. I am the beast.

For days I do not dance through the forest and I do not sing with the birds. I cry in the eaves by the rabbit thatch.

The Nature of the Beast 2 (The birth of the Triad)

2013-10-28T21:24:00.001-07:00

And I was finished and done. I had segregated myself from the lot of them. It was not long before I had settled in to being by myself, in fact, I grew to love the freedom that being alone provided. It was me and the surrounding forest. I learned the language of the land and the voice of the waters. I learned the secrets lingo of the animals and the heart of the vegetation. All those things that hid themselves away from man, I coaxed them back to trust me. I felt as though I was a princess of the wood. Days went by and I would skip through the nearby vallies in the soles of my naked feet. I took to wearing small shifts made from deerskin and fox furs. I wove the beautiful clover throughout my auburn locks and pretended that I was in some huge ballroom constructed by mother nature herself. I curtsied, holding out the corners of my leather dress.

“May I have this dance?” spoke to all of nature in a sing song voice. I followed up with a giggle before running headlong into the edge of the forest. Birds flew up from the undergrowth disturbed by my maniacal tyrade.

I was happy, content in my lonliness. I grew to know even my other parts of me. There were 3 distinct parts of my being. One was Yelvina, Daughter of Patron Garold and lady Fandida. The 2^nd self that I realized was Andreea, the image of goodness and light and then there was Ona, the hunter. I knew Ona was there from before, but I had no idea that she had a name. I tried on many occasions, during my envisioning, to know why these 3 selves were present within me. Every time I would ask them to identify their needs they would only give me riddles. The 3 did tell me one thing about the daughter of Patron Garold and Lady Fandida; they told me that Yelvina, my true born self was stricken with an illness. They said that because of this illness, I was able to communicate with them. I asked if my illness was the curse of the moon and they collectively answered an affirmative.

I didn’t talk about that anymore. I don’t ever like talking about that part of me. When the triad started to speak of the blood moon, I knew it was time to take Yelvina and go. When the three noticed that I was uncomfortable, they decided to teach me the magic of the forest, instead.

The Nature of the Beast 1 (natural segregation)

2013-10-28T21:21:00.002-07:00

I will not say that I am innocent because I am not. What I will say is this. I roamed the forest at night and it was my nature to do so. I hunted there during certain seasons, as I allowed. At intervals during the summer months I allowed myself to take freely of my nature and act as nature would see fit.

In between my excursions, I lived as a semi-normal female. I would tend to my household duties quietly in a small shack away from the nearby villagers. At times beyond my season, I used simple weaponry to hunt my food. A small long bow and my favorite throwing hatchet served to bring me sustenance. I washed my clothing in the spring at the edge of the valley and there I got my water supply as well. I utilized the animal fat to construct candles and preservatives for the winter seasons. My favorite part of my solitude was the fire. Every night beneath the moon and stars, I crafted my humble fire and took hold of memories of days before. With my feet planted firmly upon the earth, I sat before the flames feeling the tickling breeze. Before retiring for the night, I would take a solomn dip in the nearby lake, washing away my pain. Earth, Fire, Air, Water….and I was content and falling fast to sleep.

I wasn’t always alone, you see. I was once a part of the nearby village. I was somewhat included in the small Christian based society of my parents. But I could not stay there, I had to leave. This was done primarily because they were different than I was and the last time I tried to blend in, several of the other women made me feel very unwelcome. I admit, I was awkward and defiant to the traditional roles that these women played. I did not want to talk behind the blackberry bushes after mass about trivial things. Trivial to say the least, for what I call trivial is their ridiculous habit of degrading each other in the company of themselves. I found this utterly stupid and pulled away from such wastes of time. I tried my hand at conversation with these women but it seemed thoughts that delved much deeper than the village gossip was beyond their grasp. Two of the girls, whom I remember the most, would look at me in disgust and make some comment about my silly topic of conversation. I came to the realization that something within them had enmity toward me, as the snake to eve in the story form the great Christian bible. Yes, I knew the bible, and it shocked those two women as well. As I spoke of that story in particular to try and let them know how I felt, they grew even more confused and pulled at the other girl’s sleeves.

The apparent leader of the group spoke loudly before leaving in hopes that the whole departing congregation would hear her. “Come on girls, looks as though we have lost this poor girl in our daunting intellect.”

I stood in shock with both brows lifted high. I decided then and there that I would take my leave of society. I looked to my right, where stood Lawrence, and noticed that he had turned away from me completely. I wanted to say goodbye but I was then the object of everyone else’s stares. I simply turned and walked away.

I left a trail of painful misunderstandings behind me on the pathway. I wouldn’t let them see my tears for then they would have seen my humiliation; and this I would not give to them.

A Better one

2013-10-21T21:53:00.001-07:00

"Tom, you jive turkey!" George Jefferson shouted. He put one hand on his hips and slammed the door with the other.

The channels changed abruptly. Channel 9 News broadcasted from some ghetto neighborhood on the south side.

"Apparently, the lady standing in the doorway had some information of her own about her daughter's disappearance. The voice over spoke as several African American residents milled around the courtyard. The camera switched to the broadcaster, who was trying not to read from his cue cards, and then to a picture of a newborn baby.

It had been vibrating for several minutes but she just didn't want to answer. She saw the familiar number on the screen and returned the phone to her lap. She changed the channel again.

Renita was an only child, born on the outskirts of Chicago. Her father had left when Renita was 5 or so her mother said. She couldn't really remember him. She and her mother had moved several times before settling in back on the outskirts of Chicago once more, only 10 miles from where she was raised. Renita wasn't sure if she liked the area or not. There were too many nosey white folk always coming by and offering things. For some reason they thought Renita needed some white girl's hand-me-downs. Stupid white people.

Renita's mother was a nurse, had been for about 6 years now, and she had all of Renita's respect for the way she had took care of things. Renita was proud of her mother. She was amazed at how her mother had pulled the weight when her father left, all that she could remember anyway. Her mother had payed for Renita's school, her doctor bills and even was able to afford to buy Renita new clothes when it was time for school to start. Although most kids couldn't stand their parents, Renita, at 14, was in awe of her mother. Her admiration grew as the years went by.

"After 14 years of searching, Shkinda has finally found the location of her daughter's kidnapers. The suspect is a black female named..."

Renita flipped the channel again and noticed that the Jeffersons were on channel 26 as well. This time, George Jefferson was dancing in a pair of tight polyester disco pants. Renita wondered if her father was about his age.

Her phone vibrated again and she grit her teeth. "Come on Leon, I don't want to talk to you, right now."

"Renita, you better finish your homework before you be talking to that boy!" Renita

s mother spoke from the kitchen doorway. She held a spoon in one hand and an oven mit in the other. Her face was pinched with serious intentions.

"okay mama." Renita rolled her eyes and chunked her phone onto the coffee table. She shifted to get her school books from the floor and her rump pressed against the remote control. The channels changed and the stiff white news reporter reappeared. He looked scared to Renita.

"My baby...she was a abeautiful baby.." A lady cried while holding on to the reporters arm. Her fake sobs were obvious enough that Renita laughed out loud. As the lady raised back up, she stared into the camera and then remembered to sob again.

"What a phoney.." Renita whispered and turned her history book to page 235. She pulled a spiral bound notebook from her backpack and flipped the cover over and under. As she wrote her name, she wondered how her father wrote his name. Renita exhaled and tried to forget him again.

"Sources have led us to believe that this woman..." A black and white sketch flashes on the screen momentarily and the reporter continues his sentence. " is the criminal who stole little Martina from the Grayer hospital 14 years ago. Police have been sent to the location to resolve the situation.

Renita looked up at the screen just as the sketch flashed once more. She had to double take for a moment because the lady looked so much like her mother. She laughed, "huh, isnt' that funny."

Renita looked toward the kitchen and called to her mother. "Hey mom, this lady on television looks just like you. You should come see this, its funny."

The picture changed to the sketch of a baby. A drawing of a baby with the most beautiful big eyes. Renita smiled. "Awww, she is so cute, she looks a little like me when I was a baby."

Renita's mind wandered a moment then back to the sketch. Her father used to draw, that is what her mother said. Renita caught a section of some pitures from the corner of her eyes. Her own baby picture stared out at her from its place on the livin room wall. She had been a beautiful baby too. Renita wondered how the mother must feel to have been seperated frm her daughter for all these years.

The reporter offered the sketch to the public once more. Renita stared at the baby's features. Her eyes slowly wandered over to her picture on the wall. It took a moment to register with her, but when it did, her stomach sank. Renita felt as though she was about to pass out. Something of a behemoth, a huge knot formed inside her bowels. Renita looked at her baby picture then back to the sketch on the television. Then the sketch disappeared. But it was too late, Renita knew now.

She heard the sirens in the distance but her mother's humming was louder. Renita pushed her history book onto the floor and stood. Her feet were heavy as she walked toward the kitchen doorway. The sirens grew louder. She guessed that they were right around the corner.

Her mother dropped her dishcloth and walked into the living room, ignoring Renita's tear stained face. The Televison greeted Norma wilmington, mother of Renita, baby theif, criminal and low life, as she licked her lips and closed her eyes. Renita wondered what daddy would do.

"Authorities are now on their way to detain the suspect in question. Soon, mother will be reunited with daughter, this fine day of January 26, Tuesday, 2011." The reporter signed off and was replaced with a picture of Norma wilmington. Renita looked at the television as did her mother.

The sirens were horribly loud as they pulled into the Wilmington's driveway. Renita looked at her mother and spoke once more.

"I love you mother. YOu are the best mother in the whole world."