All of Her: Chapter One (Final Edit?)

Chapter One: Heartbroken
I know I said this wasn't running away, but I find myself running. I need to find Noah. Not 'want,' need. My feet are tattooing his name into the pavement. My heart is racing my lungs; a hideous lump is forming in my esophagus. My chest is heaving and my mind is in overdrive. I just keep thinking that if I could just get to Noah everything will be okay. He'll wake me up from this nightmare. He'll be able to to comfort me. Not that I am capable of being comforted.

I think my heart is going to explode. I am in physical pain so intense I may double over before I get to him. At the beginning curve of his apartment complex's entrance, I have to stop. I've been running for an hour and I can't breathe anymore. My shirt is soaked with sweat and sticking to my back. My hair is plastered to my face and neck.

And then, because this seems like the appropriate moment, the tears come. I stand there, on the corner, bawling like a crazy person, unable to see straight or breathe between gulping sobs.

Beyond all reason, Noah is walking his dog toward the park, which is just up the block from where I am standing. I don't even have voice enough to call out to him. As if he heard my thoughts, he looks up and sees me. He doesn't even pause; he starts running, barely waiting for Bett, his doberman, to catch up. I can't even limp to close the distance. I don't have to, however, because within a moment I am completely wrapped in his arms.

"Abra, honey, what's wrong?" he looks at me and holds me tighter. He murmurs into my hair, "Honey, please, you're scaring me. What happened?"

I can't respond. I can't catch my breath between sobs. I'm trembling violently; at any moment my body may fly to pieces. That lump building in my throat floods my mouth. Feebly, I manage to push away from Noah just enough to lean over and throw up. Reflexively, he pulls my hair back and moves to prevent Bett from eating it.

I keep heaving, despite my stomach being empty. I fear that, at any moment, I'll see my broken heart land in the puddle of vitriol at my sneakered feet. Noah holds my hair, muttering in a soothing way. I can't hear him over the pounding of my heart in my head.

After what feels like an eternity, I stop heaving. Straightening up, I take the first deep breath I've had since I started running. I look at Noah, concern etched into his black eyebrows and filling up his blue eyes with shadows. Absently, I notice that his glasses are smudged from where he was holding me.

"He's in love with her." I say, after several deep breaths.

"Who is in love with whom?"

"David and Alice." I choke out, my stomach tightening in warning. He doesn't say anything, just gathers me up in his arms and holds me. We stand there for a little bit, my face streaked with tears and Bett looking at us quizzically. Without knowing how it happened, we are walking back to his apartment. Once inside, I sit, cross-legged, on his 1970's style, burgundy, shag carpet. Bett rests her head in my lap and I stroke her ears, distractedly.

In the kitchen I can hear Noah making tea. This is how he deals with a crisis. Whether its a break-up, a bad grade in a test; it doesn't matter. Tea holds all the answers. He comes out of the kitchen, two steaming mugs of, what smells like, Earl Grey and a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips hanging from his teeth.

He sets one mug on a black and white coaster in front of me before he takes the bag of chocolate chips out of his mouth.

"I'm out of any other chocolate," he says, apologetically. "I've got some left overs if you are hungry. Though I'm sure your stomach is still a mess."

He pushes my tea closer to me. I take a sip, but am not really enjoying it like I normally would. I feel so out of sorts.

"Do you want to talk?" he asks, his voice cautious.

Do I want to talk about this? Can I? Do words have any meaning in a situation like this?

"He says he is in love with her. I've been tossed to the side. What more is there to say?"

Noah says nothing, simply placing his hand on mine.

No Parade
When I was twelve I met a boy. This boy was the most gorgeous, most intelligent, most wonderful boy I had ever met. It was obvious that I would fall for him. I was an awkward girl, not what anyone would consider pretty, at least in my own opinion. He was the first boy to say I was pretty. And I loved him.

Ten years passed, finding me sitting in the rectory of the church. I was about to marry the man of my dreams. A boy I loved since I was twelve. A boy I longed for with everything I had for so long I had nothing left to give. That beautiful, intelligent, wonderful boy leaves me waiting in the rectory. He leaves me waiting before the priest and God. He leaves me in my white dress and tiny white veil, my cream-colored roses and sprigs of baby's breath wilting.

He left because he had fallen in love with Alice. My childhood best friend. And, behind my back as I planned my wedding and my beautiful life with him, he planned a beautiful life with her. The most terrible of terrible things is I should've known, I should've seen it coming. How did I not notice how often they whispered to each other. Or how they sometimes gazed at one another? But I loved two beautiful stars in orbit around my sun.

I didn't know that I was the star orbiting their sunlight.

I am a fool.

I was humiliated. The church took pity on me and gave back the money I spent to have the ceremony there. The caterer was not so generous. I did get to keep all sixteen pounds of chicken and five pounds of cake. Isn't that sad though?

All of my calls were forwarded to voicemail. I must've left a dozen messages. They ranged in tone from completely calm to barely coherent sobs. Finally he agreed to meet me on the beach. How funny is it that its the spot where he proposed three years ago?

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, his hair disheveled from the wind. He looks so perfect. I love him. I hate him.

"I want you to say you love me and you're going to marry me. I can forgive all this. I can." I tried to sound even-keeled. To sound like this is all a misunderstanding and he has never once faltered.

"I can't do that." he said.

"Why?" I don't cry. I want to.

"I told you once that I loved Alice." he said. Cut to the quick, I glared at him.

"Loving someone and being in love with someone are two different things, David. You never said you were in love with her."

"I was in love with her. I'm still in love with all of her."

That fateful sentence. Those jarring 25 letters.

As I ran to Noah's, I kept seeing his face; that face I have memorized longingly for the past ten years. I kept hearing him say those eight words, like some nightmarish lullaby.

He didn't even hesitate. Did he ever love me? Was I anything to him?

Nothing else matters
Noah clears his throat, jarring me out of my memories.

"What will you do now?" he asks. To be honest, I have no idea. Blow something up? Binge drink margaritas until I bust from alcohol poisoning? I should think a minute before I do something rash.

"Listen to a bunch of sad break-up songs and commiserate with a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream? I really don't know what else to do. I feel like I lost a limb. Something is missing."

He squeezes my hand in sympathy. I know he would fix it if he could. But we both know he can't fix this one. Not even with his dry wit, Earl Grey tea and all the ice cream in the world.

"Do you want to stay the night here?" He is searching my face for any sign that I'll fly off the handle and kill someone. Or myself. He doesn't need to worry, yet.

"No, love. Thank you. I think I'm going to go home. I want a shower and some alone time. Do you care to drive me back to my car?"

The short ride back to my car is quiet. The only sounds are air rushing through the rolled down windows and Bett's happy panting as she sticks her head out. Noah gives me one last hug, kisses my cheek and drives off. I stare at the blurred line of the horizon for what feels like eternity. Its dark, barely a sliver of moon in the sky.

I'm going to be alone, I realize. Perhaps I should've stayed with Noah. Before I can think about it too much I find myself driving back to my apartment.

When I get there, David has already been there getting some of his things. A note taped to the fridge says he'll be back to finish packing up. It says he's sorry, but he can't love me with only half of his heart.

I sigh, heavily. I am too tired to cry now. Kicking off my shoes, I trudge into the bedroom. Some of the drawers are still open and the place looks like a tornado went through. In his hurry, he has left a few t-shirts, boxers and two pairs of tennis shoes. I pad around the room picking up miscellaneous items he has tossed to the floor.

While doing this I spy the shirt he was wearing earlier. I can't help myself. I pick it up, press it to my face and find tears rolling down my already puffy face.

How can I live without him? How can I even begin to start over? I have devoted the past ten years of my life to this man. I've given him everything. My heart, my life, my virginity. How could it have all gone so wrong? I sink to the floor, still clutching his shirt to my tear soaked face. I don't care that my mascara is running and that I have snot dripping from my bright, red, nose. I don't care that he may come in and see me falling completely apart. I don't have the strength to lie to him about it.

Somehow I muster the strength to stand and put his dirty clothes in the washing machine. I go into the living room and turn on the CD player. Unfortunately, every song depresses me further. I go back to my room and stare at the queen sized bed. It seems so much bigger now that I'll be sleeping alone.

Part of me wishes David would walk in and see the mess I am. I'd tell him that I'll never be over him. I could never possibly get over him, no matter how hard I tried. I refuse to be happy for him either. Not for him and most certainly not for Alice. Even if they are happy together.

I spend my night on the couch, trying to find some semblance of sanity to cling to. I try pulling myself together. And I fail at it; miserably. I don't really sleep. I drift, but I do not dream. I just sit with my knees pulled up to my chest, my cheek resting on one knee.

Things have to get better eventually. Right?

All of Her: Prologue (Final Edit)

Prologue: He doesn't Love You.

"I'm still in love with all of her."

I say nothing. What is there to say, really? I barely hear anything else he says. Not that it matters. He keeps talking; as if this conversation were about what to have for lunch. Or something just as bland. He doesn't even notice that my heart is breaking. I think I might be sick.

His words are echoing in my head. I am stuck on repeat. All I can hear is that awful sentence and my heart, drumming erratically against my rib-cage. I've gone mad. I'm standing here, on my own two hands, going crazy. I'm shaking.

I know he is telling the truth. I don't even have to look at them to know its the truth. Being a glutton for punishment, and already drunk with pain, I look anyway. Why not? She's smiling; lit up by the sunshine of his love.

"I'm still in love with all of her."

I'm not blind; anymore. Its like the gauze has been ripped from my eyes. How did I not see it before? How could I be so completely clueless? Looking at it now, I can easily imagine them. Entangled, wrapped in pink sheets, their pink flesh fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. How did I miss this?

Am I an idiot for wishing he was looking at me?

She's standing a short distance away, barely out of ear-shot, and he is staring off and into her distance. She's still smiling at him, practically basking in the assurances of his love. I recognize that smile. Its the same one I had plastered across my, idiotic, face. Once. I can still remember that feeling; being loved and believing his sunlight would always shine on me. That smile, the one she wears now, is the same smile I was wearing just a few weeks ago. How did I not recognize that look before now?

The whole beach feels like it is trying to swallow me whole. Everything is rolling beneath my feet and he is rocking away from me and into her arms. I just stand there. I feel so pathetic. I try to smile, as if everything is okay, but it wobbles with the weight of the truth. He doesn't notice. I will never smile, like her, again.

How can I when I am watching the love of my life fall even more in love with my best friend?

"I'm still in love with all of her."

"Stop saying that!" I say, practically shrieking. David looks back at me, startled.

"I didn't say anything."

I look at him, sheepishly. Having no explanation for my odd behaviour, I bite my lip and turn away.

I need to get drunk. Is it normal for my chest to hurt this badly? Its like I've been punched. My whole body aches, like I have the flu. Its all just so ridiculous. This isn't fair. None of this is fair! Of course it isn't, but I can see that it doesn't matter what is and is not fair.

"Abra," he touches my shoulder. "Are you alright?"

The gall. The absolute gall.

"Am I 'alright'?" I ask, turning back toward him and shrugging off his hand. "Yes, David. I'm absolutely fucking peachy. Its not like the love of my life stood me up, on our wedding day, and then has the audacity to tell me that he is in love with my best friend. No, I'm not 'alright!' I feel like I'm going crazy right now! I've never been better."

Dumbfounded, he just blinks at me.

"I... I am sorry." he stammers. I wave off his apology as if it smelled bad. The thought that I should be nice flits into my head. I mean, you can't help who you love, right? As quickly as it entered, it is chased out by my anger and pain. I think I might vomit. I'm going to scream, or laugh hysterically. It is, in a sick and twisted way, quite comical.

She is looking back at us again. Her face is slightly cloudy, concern warring with the sunshine of love. I want to slap the sunlight off her cheeks.

"Go." I say, turning away. "You're going to leave with her anyway. You might as well leave now."

I turn back in time to watch him walk away and I have to resist the urge to chase after him. I want to yell at him, grab him by the shoulders and shake him. I wish I could smack some sense into them both. Or perform a relationship saving lobotomy. Well, relationship saving for me, not so much for them. There they go; their shadows seeming to swim off into the sunset, like a couple of mer-people to Atlantis. Or maybe that's my broken-hearted imagination.

I turn to leave, again, but I can't seem to make my feet move. Instead, idiot that I am, I turn back and see them kissing. Alice and David, off in their own personal wonderland, in love and laughing. They're smiling; that sweet and innocent smile of a first, and only, love. Damn. Why did I look back?

I'm feeling like I've just been turned into a pillar of salt; frozen and more than a little raw. Its like my wounds just got a vigourous scrub.

The time has come, the walrus says, to talk of many things. He's right, of course. Even talking walruses can be right. I don't feel like talking. Not to a talking walrus or anyone else. God, I hate Alice so much right now. I never thought it was possible to hate someone so much, but looking at her with David, I could almost spit acid. I could almost go up to them and wring her pretty, swan-like, neck.

Why couldn't they just disappear as soon as I looked back? Would that be too much to ask for?

Despite my desire, nothing changes the fact that Alice and David are still canoodling and I'm just standing here. Caught up in my foolish daydreams. If only I had super powers or something, I could destroy Alice and live happily ever after. With David. Like I'm supposed to. If she were my ugly step-sister, she'd cut off her nose to spite her face and I'd win him back with perfectly fitted glass slippers and my obvious charm. He would realize he is the only Prince Charming there has ever been for me and all will be right with the world.

I'm rambling.

"I'm still in love with all of her."

Those words are still echoing in the air around me. I have to get out of here. I need distance. This isn't running away.

He didn't even hesitate when I told him to go. I guess that tells me all I need to know.

Sisters

Taking a cue from Jeremy, I put on my best smile.

This is the most uncomfortable I think I've ever been. Its bad enough that I forgot my deodorant and my hair looks like a rat's residence. But seeing him like this; his arm around her waist and his lips precariously close to her glittering earlobe, could kill me.

I'm over-dramatic, but I can't help the lump growing in my throat. It tastes like regret and vomit.

"You look lovely, Annie." he says. He smiles, again. Did his hand tighten around her waist? Or is that my imagination?

"Thank you." I say, though I accuse him of lying. In the privacy of my head. "You look like you are doing well."

"Well, Pam and I just got married," he says, nonchalantly. As if I hadn't noticed the sterling silver band on his finger the moment he walked in. "We're getting ready to close on our first house, so we're pretty excited."

"Congratulations!" I say, congratulating myself for sounding halfway sincere.

We chit-chat for what feels like, an uncomfortably, long time. I leave them with a chipper good-night before heading to the roof to smoke.

I puff thoughtfully, gazing off and into the night sky. A shooting star streaks through the set patterns. Rearranging more than the cloud patterns.

"Those things will kill you, you know." says a voice. Startled, I jump to my feet and drop my cigarette.

"Sorry." he says, sheepishly. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"What the fuck did you think would happen?" I shout, both embarrassed and scared. Who is this guy?

"I'm Eli." he says, as if he heard my thought waves. He stretches out a hand to shake, looking sufficiently apologetic.

"Annie." I say, taking his hand in mine. "What are you doing on the roof?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I needed a break from the meet and greet session downstairs."

"Same. Can I bum one of those from you?" he gestures at the pack I dropped and I retrieve one for him.

We sit in semi-comfortable silence for a few minutes before we hear the gymnasium doors open below us. Jenny traipses through, tilting drunkenly onto the football field. Her red hair is plastered to her face and neck, a beer in her hand.

"What's Jenny doing?" I wonder, out loud.

"Don't know." Eli shrugs.

"I better go get her. The last thing she needs is to fall and hurt herself." I push myself to a standing position and dust myself off. Eli also stands and escorts me to the staircase. I give him my pack of cigarettes. He smiles and pretends to tip an invisible hat to me.

Jenny dances in lopsided circles across the dewy grass. She has her shoes off, like always.

"Sis, let's go home." I say, picking up her debris. "You've had enough."

"I've not." she replies. She doesn't even look at me, her eyes locked on something only she sees.

"C'mon, Jen. Its getting chilly."

All of Her: Prologue (Alternate Version)

"I'm still in love with all of her."

I say nothing. I barely hear anything else he says. He keeps talking, but my heart is breaking. I'm stuck on repeat. The only thing I can hear is my heart, fit to burst from my chest.

"I'm still in love with all of her."

I know its true. I'm not blind; anymore. Its as if the gauze has been torn from my sight. How had I not seen the love radiating from her face? How did I not notice?

She's standing a short distance away, barely out of ear-shot, and he is staring off and into her distance. She's smiling, glowing, practically basking in the light of his love. I recognize that smile. Its the same one I used to have plastered to my, idiotic, face. Its the same smile I had a week ago. I realize that I will never smile like that again.

How can I when I am watching the love of my life fall even more in love with my best friend?

"I'm still in love with all of her."

"Stop saying that!" I say, practically shrieking out the words. David looks back at me, startled.

"I didn't say anything."

I look at him, sheepishly. Having no explanation for my odd behaviour, I bite my lip and turn away.

"Abra," he touches my shoulder. "are you alright?"

The gall. The absolute gall.

"Am I 'alright?'" I ask, turning back toward him and shaking off his hand. "Yes, David. I'm absolutely, completely, fucking peachy. The love of my life stood me up, on our wedding day, and then has the audacity to tell me that he is in love with my best friend. I've never been better."

Dumbfounded, he just blinks at me.

"I... I'm sorry." he stammers. I wave off his apology as if it smelled bad. The thought that I should be nice flits into my head. I mean, you can't help who you love, right? As quickly as it entered, it is chased out by anger and pain. I feel like I might vomit. I feel like I'm going to start screaming, or laugh hysterically. It is, in a way, comical.

She's looking back at us again. Her face is slightly cloudy, concern warring with the sunshine of love.

"Go." I say, turning away. "You're going to leave with her anyway, you might as well leave now."

He doesn't even hesitate. I guess that tells me all I need to know.

All of Her: Prologue (Edit #?)

"I'm still in love with all of her."

I say nothing. What is there to say, really? I barely hear anything else he says, not that it matters. He keeps talking, as if this conversation were about what to have for lunch. Or something just as bland. He doesn't even notice that my heart is breaking. It feels like it is disintegrating, crumbling into nothing inside my chest.

His words are echoing in my skull. I'm stuck on repeat. All I can hear is that awful sentence and my heart, fit to burst from my chest. I know that he is telling the truth. I don't even have to look at them to know it is true. I look anyway, because I'm already drunk on the pain so why not? She's smiling, lit up by the sunshine of his love.

"I'm still in love with all of her."

I'm not blind; anymore. Its like the gauze has been ripped from my eyes. How did I not see it before? How could I have been so completely clueless? Looking at it now, I can imagine them entangled, wrapped up in pink sheets; their pink flesh fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. How did I miss this?

Am I an idiot for wishing he was looking at me?

She's standing a short distance away, barely out of ear-shot, and he is staring off and into her distance. She's still smiling at him, practically basking in the assurances of his love. I recognize that smile. Its the same one I had plastered across my, idiotic, face. Once. I can still remember that feeling; being loved and believing his sunlight would always shine on me. That smile, the one she wears now, is the same smile I was wearing just a few weeks ago. How did I not recognize that look before now?

The whole beach feels like it is trying to swallow me whole. Everything is rolling beneath my feet and he is rocking away from me and into her arms. I just stand there. I try to smile, like everything is okay, but it wobbles with knowing the truth. He doesn't notice. I will never smile, like her, again.

How can I when I am watching the love of my life fall even more in love with my best friend?

"I'm still in love with all of her."

"Stop saying that!" I say, practically shrieking. David looks back at me, startled.

"I didn't say anything."

I look at him, sheepishly. Having no explanation for my odd behaviour, I bite my lip and turn away.

I feel like getting drunk. I feel like I've been punched in the chest. My whole body aches. Its all just so ridiculous. It isn't fair, of course, but I can see that it doesn't matter what is fair and what is not.

"Abra," he touches my shoulder. "Are you alright?"

The gall. The absolute gall.

"Am I 'alright?'" I ask, turning back toward him and shaking off his hand. "Yes, David. I'm absolutely, and completely, fucking peachy. The love of my life stood me up, on our wedding day, and then has the audacity to tell me that he is in love with my best friend. I've never been better."

Dumbfounded, he just blinks at me.

"I... I'm sorry." he stammers. I wave off his apology as if it smelled bad. The thought that I should be nice flits into my head. I mean, you can't help who you love, right? As quickly as it entered, it is chased out by my anger and pain. I feel like I might vomit. I feel like I'm going to start screaming, or laugh hysterically. It is, in a sick and twisted way, quite comical.

She's looking back at us again. Her face is slightly cloudy, concern warring with the sunshine of love.

"Go." I say, turning away. "You're going to leave with her anyway, you might as well leave now."

I turn back in time to watch him walk away and I have to resist the urge to chase after him. I feel like screaming at him, like grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. I wish I could slap some sense into them both. Or perform a relationship saving lobotomy. Well, relationship saving for me, not so much for them. I watch them, their shadows seeming to swim off into the sunset, like a couple of mer-people to Atlantis. Or maybe that is my broken heart's imagination.

I turn to leave, again, but I can't seem to make my feet move. Instead, I turn back and see them kissing. Alice and David, off in their own personal wonderland, in love and laughing. They're smiling, that sweet and innocent smile of a first, and only, love. Damn, why did I look back?

I'm feeling like I've just been turned into a pillar of salt; frozen and slightly raw, like the wound just got vigourously scrubbed.

The time has come, the walrus says, to talk of many things. He's right, of course, even talking walruses can be right. I don't feel like talking. Not to a talking walrus or anyone else. God, I hate Alice so much right now. I never thought it was possible to hate someone so much, but, looking at her with David, I could almost spit acid. I could almost go up to them and wring her pretty, swan-like, neck.

Why couldn't they just disappear as soon as I looked back? Would that be too much to ask for?

Despite my desire, nothing changes the fact that Alice and David are still canoodling and I am just standing there. Caught up in my stupid daydreams. If only I had super powers or something, I could destroy Alice and live happily ever after. With David. Like I was supposed to. If only she were my ugly step-sister, who cut off her nose to spite her face, I could win him back with my perfectly fitted glass slippers and my obvious charm. He would realize he is the only Prince Charming there has ever been for me and everything will be right with the world.

Now I'm just rambling.

"I'm still in love with all of her."

Those words are still echoing in the air around me. I have to get out of here. I need distance. I'm not running away.

He didn't even hesitate when I told him to go. I guess that tells me all I need to know.

The Magic Man: Part I

Sleep now, sleep deep. Soon you will awake and the morning will no longer be.
Soft, sweet, softly. They'll hear your breathing, but not your heart beating.
Soon we will be swept up in the dark of night, candy colored lights to guide the way home.

Celeste awoke in a cold sweat. Her thin shift clung to her drenched and shivering body. The fire in her tiny cabin had gone out and only the faintest glow came from the coals. Tugging on the tattered quilt, she burrowed into the warmth of her bed and tried to block out the sound of the snow falling.

It wasn't that the sound bothered her, but snow reminded her that Poppa was gone and Momma was sick with the fever. It also made her feel nervous; as if there were a thousand eyes watching her every move. If she closed her eyes tight enough, it was summer time and Poppa was out in the fields. Momma would be in the kitchen, the windows flung wide and the whole place smelling of bread and lavender. William, the butcher's youngest son, would be playing on the floor with the kittens and Susan, her youngest sister, would be banging her wooden spoon against the table legs.

"Celeste," moaned her mother. Her voice seemed to echo from beneath the covers, growing louder against the well of her ears.

"Yes, Momma?" she whispered, curling into herself. She imagined her ribs growing outward to cage her within them. The smaller she was, the less chance of being found by whatever it was that seemed to be haunting her.

"The fire," her mother's voice sounded weak now. "its out."

"Yes, Momma." shivering, she eased out from under the covers. She did not look out the window as she tip-toed to the pile of dry wood. If she looked out she was sure she would see the Magic Man from her nightmares.

Squatting, she gathered the smallest sticks first. If she could get those going, with what little flame was left, then she would put on the thicker logs. Poppa had taught her well. Without fully rising, she moved toward the fireplace.

Sleep now, sleep deep. Soon you will awake, my prisoner you'll be.

She jumped, falling backwards, scattering a few coals and dropping her sticks. His eyes were glowing in the pit of the fireplace, shining like two moons in a sea of fire. A small scream pressed free of her lips and the wind rattled the windows so that the whole room was shaking.

She did not have to look out the window to see him. She knew he was there. His long black cape flapping furiously in the bitter winter wind, his long black hair plaited down his back and his black hat dusted white by the snow. She did not have to look out the window, but she was drawn to it. Her eyes met his auburn coloured ones and his smile, sardonic and mirthful, gleamed in the faint light of the coals.

Soft, sweet, softly. Mustn't let momma hear you leaving.

Gingerly, she lifted the latch on the door and stepped out into the swirling white world. She did not feel the bite of the snow against her bare feet or the sting of the wind as it whipped against her reddening cheeks. All she saw was his face and the edge of summer rising behind his black cape.

Female Liberation: Part 1

In rolling red script
the declarations proclaimed that a
woman's life was profane. With
sadistic glee they began the purge,
chortling in delight as they
raped, pillaged and purged.

Some they kept alive, for how
else would their population thrive,
but it was decreed that no
female babies would be kept
alive. Mothers, sisters, aunts,
daughters and friends were
each dragged away for no
other sin than that of being womankind.
The smoke from the pillars
let off a dark and foul stench,
tangled with cries to "burn the
wretched wench!"

The gallows bowed under the
weight of so much female weight.
The ones to be kept were corralled,
collared and caged. They were
given numbers instead of names.
The were fed, but they were
starved. They were kept healthy for
breeding and when a woman was
deemed infertile she was
executed with no remorse.

For a century they were enslaved by
the men in power. For a century they
struggled. (All the centuries of female
liberation and female power shattered.)

One night, in the quivering darkness, a
woman, once named Amira now called
number 27, prayed to the goddess, her
tears pleading.

"O great and wonderful goddess, please
send a one who will save us from this
hell. We are faithful to you, please be
faithful to us as well." That night
the Goddess heard, as if for the first
time, the cries of the harmed. She
wept at the chaos caused and the
cruelty of such caustic laws.

So, when the breeding season came,
she caused a soft rain to ensure
feminine seeds. Her magic was gentle
and pervasive, calming even the most
hostile of the delegates.

The Dragon King: Part Seven

Waking up, Aysel saw the cave split asunder like an over-sized geode.

The Dragon construct lay, shattered, a small distance off. Its underbelly was torn open revealing the inner-workings and beside it lay the body of Emyr.

The land was scorched beyond repair, the caverns shattered. She stood to look over her realm, her damaged wing fluttering as she righted herself. For miles the ground was strewn with bodies; goblins, faeries, woodland creatures. Limping, she moved toward the cavern opening.

Beside a Faery body was a ruby eye and a tiny flower, the only living thing for miles.

The Dragon King: Part Six

After they had traveled a day, they stopped to rest. All was quiet in the camp and Aysel could not sleep. She wandered the camp, her wings twitching with nerves.

"Milady," said Faolán. "Ye must rest. We have a long march ahead of us."

"Aye, Faolán, thou art right. Yet, I feel Emyr's approach in my bones and I am wracked with fear that we have traveled in vain."

Before Faolán could reply, an arrow tore through the tent beside him, setting it ablaze. Over the crest of a landing, poured the goblin horde, Emyr at the front.

Grabbing their weapons, the faeries moved to attack.

"Hide in one of the tunnels!" cried Faolán, withdrawing his sword and flying to the attack.

"I am no delicate butterfly, Faolán." replied Aysel, hefting a battle axe and joining the fray.

Spying the queen, Emyr loaded another arrow. Taking aim, he released, sending the arrow through one of Aysel's wings. The wing ripped, sending her tumbling. Barely able to stop the free-fall, she found herself above the abyss with nothing to save her. Fighting against the pain in her wing, she struggled upward, flitting, drunkenly, toward Emyr.

"You thought you would call upon the Dragons for aid, Aysel? Where are your Dragons?" he barked, chortling.

"You will not speak to my Queen in that manner!" cried Faolán, darting toward the Goblin King, his weapon held high to strike.

Quick as a snake, Emyr shot Faolán, his arrow hitting with a sickening thud. The Faery knight looked shocked for a moment before tumbling into the black chasm.

"Faolán!" cried Aysel, moving too late to catch him.

Turning toward Emyr, Aysel held her battle axe aloft, her undamaged wings fluttering frantically to keep her balanced. The glow of the sconces seemed to set her wings ablaze and her apricot hair seethed like raging flames about her alabaster face. Her damaged wing hung, limply, at her side, throwing her off kilter no matter how she tried to steady herself.

The Goblin King smiled, his teeth gleaming, and lifted his bow again.

"Aye, ye look the radiant Queen, and fierce too. But I will have you, Aysel, and your whole court as well. You cannot frighten me with mythos and old wives' tales."

"Nay, good Emyr, I'll have none of thee, nor thy ilk, to sully my court. Mythos, say thee? I awaken no myth." Raising her face toward the unseen ceiling, Aysel lifted her voice in a scream to shake the very halls of the city.

He roared with laughter, lowering his bow to clasp his ribs.

"You think I'll be unnerved by howling in ancient halls? I have drawn wails the likes of which would set your pretty hair on end. Scream away, Aysel. You will be mine if I have to tear the wings from your body."

Without warning, the earth beneath his feet gave a jolt. Emyr looked down, into the abyssal labyrinth below him, before looking back into the plum hued eyes of the Faery Queen. She smiled as the whole cave began to tremble and the stone floor began to roll. From the belly of the old city rose a roar and Emyr was tossed back as a mighty wind rushed upward and out. Swept up in a surging tidal wave of motion, Aysel foundered and was thrown upward. Unable to right herself, she tumbled back down.

Coming up out of the chaos, a clawed hand caught her, holding her in a loose grip as it moved toward the mouth of the cavern. She saw only a glimpse of burnished gold, polished ivory and the frightened face of the Goblin King before she was taken by a swoon.

The Dragon King: Part Five

In the dark, Kiri could feel, rather than see, the voice of Uduak. Sounds took on physicality and her heart throbbed in time with the words.

"There must be a dreamer."

The shape rising out of the darkness was that of a Dragon.

"Please," she begged, trying to crawl away. "I have only desired to return to my grove."

"There must be a dreamer." replied a chorus. A million eyes opened, lighting the crypt. Hands took hold of her, dragging her toward Uduak. He appeared to be made of stone, a part of the tomb. His onyx eyes seemed to pin her to the ground. Before him lay the fabled Prince of Dreams, Prince of Dragons. The chorus whispered his name in the darkness at the edge of her vision.

"Arman."

The chassis gleamed ivory, beneath the sheen glowed red and blue circuitry. The dead eyes were emerald and, though he was magnificent, he was dull. A shell.

"Awaken, my son." said Uduak, his voice tender. His claws reached out to caress the construct and the eyes suddenly came alive.

Her screams reverberated through out the crypt, sending the waves above into white-capped frenzy and roaring up past the marching faeries.

Faolán looked down into the winding maze of darkness, and shivered.

The Dragon King: Part Four

When the Faery knight and the sorceress returned, they immediately pulled up the camp. The troupe followed the dryad into the hexagonal room, the Eyes all closed, and down the sparsely lit tunnel. They marched through the cloying dark for what seemed like ages. The torches sputtered, threatening to gutter out, making their shadows dance wildly. Pushing forward, they began to hear the faint roar of an ocean and the taste of salt tinged the stifling air. When they emerged from the passageway, they looked out over glowing waves.

Fluttering to the ground, the Queen approached Kiri, jerking her off to one side.

"Ye will awaken the Dragon King, witch, or ye will perish." she hissed, the fear in her eyes was overwhelming and, though she acted otherwise, she was shaking. Her hands fell to her sides in, what resembled, defeat and her eyes looked at Kiri, pleading.

The guards led her toward the water, undoing her bindings. She rubbed her wrists, gingerly, and stepped into a wave. The tide would be coming in at any moment, large crystals illuminating the cavernous ceiling and small water phos flowers glowing beneath the water. It had to be done according to the legends, according to all the stories, or it would not be right and she would have to wait until the next lunar cycle.

The water was warm and thick with salt, clinging to her skin in an unpleasant way. She waded in until she was waist deep and could barely touch the bottom, lifting her arms above her head. With her arms lifted, she began chanting, all of her tattoos becoming bright white against her skin. The water began to swirl around her and the waves began to bubble; slowly at first, building into a roiling boil so that she was almost lost under the waves. The ruby eye on her forehead flung open and began to pulsate, radiating pain, and pleasure, through her skull. The royal court was thrown off balance as the grotto began to rock and the waves crashed into the gem spangled ceiling.

The dragon rose from the water slowly, his enormous wings stretching out and beating lazily. When he opened his onyx eyes, they came to rest on Kiri, boring into her soul. She shivered, watching the pearls of water drip from his red and white scales, his massive wings pumping the heavy air. Taking several steps back, she knelt before the Dragon King, lifting her hands toward him.

"Oh, great Uduak, we come to ask for help and to awaken the Prince of Dreams."

Lowering his head, so that he was on eye level with the dryad, the Dragon snorted. The blast of air knocked her off balance only a moment, but she felt a fear rising within her.

"What aid would you desire, child of the wood?" his voice was soft, but it was deeper than the ocean in which they stood.

"I seek no aid for myself, Mighty King." she lowered her eyes, desiring to hide the wishes building within her.

His ancient eyes drifted over the Faery Queen, her gossamer wings trembling with fear and defiance. Her curly-haired knight stepped in front of her, raising his sword and covering her with his wings. The Dragon, amused, returned his gaze to the witch, the ruby eye on her forehead blinking wildly.

"To awaken the Prince of Dreams, there is to be a price. Are you willing to pay it?"

Kiri's henna skin paled, her bones trembling. She had made a promise to the eyes. She had made a promise and the weight of it suddenly fell to her very marrow.

"I am." she whispered, feeling sick and small.

"Let it be so." said Uduak. Beneath him opened a staircase, the water receding until they stood on dry ground.

Aysel stepped forward, pushing past Faolán. She halted a step away from Kiri, her eyes lit with fire.

"What price dost thou intend to reap, Uduak?" she asked, her wings rustling in agitation.

"Ah, Aysel, though you were a child, surely you have not grown so old that you do not remember? Take your court and return to the world above. The price will be paid and you will receive your aid."

"What of me?" cried Kiri, the weight of promises and fear becoming nigh unbearable.

"To awake the Prince of Dreams there must be a dreamer. You swore to pay the price and you are the strongest dreamer."

Out of the watery staircase shot a snake-like rope, coiling itself about the enchantress and dragging her into the dark. The water quickly swelled, the unseen door closing tight. Uduak sank back into the waves, his scales glowing until he was completely covered. Aysel, her stomach turning somersaults, felt her breath escape in a whoosh. She smiled, then, and retreated to her company, ordering their immediate return to the surface.

The Dragon King: Part Three

Faolán and his scouts made their way through one of the smaller tunnels on the western side of their bivouac. Within the tunnel they found a dozen pools of fresh water, unspoiled and cool. They filled jugs for the camp before retreating back to their tents, wary of unknown creatures that might be lurking in the dark.

They did not rest long, quickly returning to their task of exploration. They did so with little zeal, as they were exhausted from marching and longing for fresh air. As children of Naira, the Moon Goddess, they felt a growing uneasiness the further they were from the moonlight. Though they adored their queen, they questioned her judgment and, silently, pondered returning to the surface, with or without the prince of dreams.

As they explored, they came to an abandoned oasis, which had become overgrown with malum flowers and carrion trees. In the humidity, and frondescence, was a rather large pool of stagnant water shadowed by the skeletal remains of a dragon cousin, the drake. Smaller than a dragon’s, the skeleton seemed poised to strike at an enemy and the foliage around it appeared as though it had risen up to prevent it. It was a startling sight and the men stood in awe of the scene. As they stood, agog, Kiri crept into the passage. She drew near to Faolán, her teal eyes glowing. She did not touch him, her gaze bound to the view.

As if rising from a dream, Faolán felt her presence and he turned to look at the sorceress. She stood as still as a statue, at first, her face unusually pale. Half in fear, and half in wonder, he reached out to touch one tangled strand of beryl hair. She turned to look at him and his mouth went dry.

Slowly, she moved toward the remains, whispering. No one moved to stop her, watching in shock as the vegetation parted for her. The drake's bones began to tremble, as though a great weight was pressed upon it. The witch lifted her hands, almost in reverence, and her mumbling became chattering, growing louder and louder. It grew until her voice was as deep as the ocean and as brutal as the winter winds. The drake began to sway and the overgrown forests fell back, releasing it.

"Show me." she demanded, her hair rising as though in the grip of a building storm. She began to glow, her tattoos suddenly vibrant and her whole being vibrating under some unseen strain. An illusory storm burst inside the tunnel, bending the overgrowth to its will and building in pressure until it seemed that they would all be destroyed. Several guards fell into a swoon, collapsing like flowers in a hurricane.

"Kiri," cried Faolán, throwing himself against the swirling magic. "Cease! Thou wilt destroy us all!"

Without turning, she threw out a hand and he was ensnared by snake-like vines, twisting themselves into his clothing, almost to his skin.

Tangled, he watched in wonder as the drake's skeletal wings began to beat, lifting it up and revealing a hidden room. It hovered for a moment, blazing as brightly as a torch, waiting for some signal. Then, gently, the drake landed, settling like an over-sized dog before a fire, its long decayed snout pointing toward the door. Just as quickly as it had risen up, the witch storm surceased and the whole passageway fell into an unearthly silence.

The scouts watched, gaping at the scene in something resembling reverence and horror, as Kiri neared the wooden archway. The door opened slowly, an eerie light illuminating an ivy draped frame and a glimpse of glowing runes. She seemed entranced, her body moving almost mechanically, still pulsating with the effects of magic.

Faolán, still twisted up with vines, tried to reach his sword to hack his way out. The vines, however, suddenly offered no resistance and fell away. Sprinting toward Kiri, he tried to grab her and pull her away from the entrance. Too late, his fingers grazed her henna skin as the heavy oaken door slammed in his face. No matter how he beat against it, he could not enter and, when he pressed his ear to the timber, he heard nothing but his own heart pounding against his ribs.

Kiri glanced back at the door, Faolán's touch against her wrist fading and her heart pounding in her ears. She should be unsurprised, the unseen thread drawing her to the center of the hexagonal chamber. The voices of ghosts bubbled in her blood, warnings and secrets, hooking into her subconscious and dragging her to her knees. The walls were carved with shimmering crystal eyes, each shining brighter than the next and blinking out of time. They observed her, kneeling as though she were rooted to the floor.

"Why have you come, enchantress?" asked a soft voice, resonating long years and deep scars.

"I have come as a prisoner of the Faery Court." she replied. The weight of years settled upon her shoulders, like a heavy cloak, pressing her against the rough hewn floor.

"What do the Moon children desire to find within these caves?"

"We come seeking the Dragon King and the Prince of Dreams. The Queen of Faeries is under siege by the King of Goblins and she is in need of an ally. No ally is as powerful as a Dragon."

"The Dragons have long faded from this world," said the voice, all the eyes closing in unison, leaving the room in complete darkness. "You will find no allies here."

Struggling to her feet, Kiri took a step toward a large crystal, the color of a swan's beak, fighting down the overwhelming terror she felt as all the voices within her went silent.

"Please, she cried, her hands outstretched, imploring. "There are myths, stories passed between the goddesses as they bathe, that say that the Dragon King, Uduak, still lives. That he can be awakened by one, such as I, and that he will grant aid to one who is in desperate need."

The eyes flung open, the room suddenly bursting with a light brighter than the moon and the sun, focusing on her. She covered her eyes with her arm, crumpling to her knees in pain.

"What makes you believe that you are in desperate enough need for such as Uduak to help you?" boomed the voice, shaking the room.

"I have no proof of desperate need," she cried, tumbling over and attempting to shield her eyes. "I am only one, and small, but I feel the calling of my trees in my blood and I will beg on these knees before you. I long only to return to my grove and that the Goblin King shall not have the Faery Queen to wife."

The lights dimmed a moment and Kiri looked up, afraid and hopeful. The large crystal, the color of a swan's beak, blinked at her.

"Give us a promise, witch." said the voice, speaking in time with the blinking eyes.

"What would you have of me?" she asked, tense and weak.

"When the Dragon King asks for a price, give him whatever he may ask."

"I will do this." she replied, though she was afraid. What "price" might Uduak require?

Satisfied, the eyes closed, one by one, and another door was revealed in the stone wall. The voices returned, whispering the way to the King's chambers, and she felt it like a sizzle in her blood. At the same moment that the voices drifted into the background, the opposite door opened, allowing Faolán into the chamber. He said nothing, his weapon partly unsheathed, looking at her in open astonishment.

Inscribed upon her forehead was a small ruby eye.

The Dragon King: Part Two

The dragon city was a breathtaking display of the ingenuity of its creators. A spiraled staircase, carved with runes in the wyvern tongue, seemed to be the only way down, as well as the only way to reach a network of tunnels which traversed more than two realms and went down just as many fathoms. The walls, along the stairs, were ingrained with shimmering crystals that eerily resembled eyes and the steps, themselves, were encrusted with gems as well as symbols.

Faolán, the queen’s champion, taking note of the sconces hanging from the walls, put his torch to the tinder and watched in amazement as the abyssal labyrinth came alive. Sconces, at least three levels below them, began to twinkle with star-like bursts of light. The company marveled at the beauty of the ancient city, breathless in their awe. It was unlike anything they had seen before and it was far less than what they had been told in the legends. The queen fluttered down to stand beside her favored knight, her small hand resting on his shoulder as they gazed out over the immensity of it.

Spanning the chasm were golden bridges connecting the myriad of landings. Each bridge opened the way to new tunnels, and with these channels, were alabaster cities trimmed with sapphires or rubies. Every passage seemed to hold a wholly separate kingdom, utterly abandoned and all more beauteous than the next. The darkness beneath them shone like the starlit heavens and every entrance held a beckoning new world.

At the forefront, prodded by blunted staves, stumbled a dryad witch, a captive of the faery court. She looked up with wondering eyes, wishing for even a glimpse of light from the outside world. Her henna coloured skin was smattered with bruises and tattoos. The bruises were, by far, the most noticeable, a result of the poking staves and the leather straps used to bind her at night. Her hair, chartreuse and wildly unkempt, was braided with feathers and wilting flowers. Her teal eyes darted nervously, searching for any chance of escape and her cracking lips mumbled prayers to unknown gods. Though it was unnaturally warm within the old city, she shivered, hugging herself as she walked, thirsty for just a flash of golden sunlight.

When they had traveled for a day and a half, the ocular stones judging their progress, they came to the first of many large landings. Consulting with her companions, the queen called for camp.

“Halt.” Cried the melodious voice. The company came to a full stop, a guard jerking the dryad to a standstill and turning her so that she faced the voice.

Aysel, the faery queen, slowly floated to the ground, the hem of her orchid petal gown brushing against the basanite floor. She waved away an attendant and stalked toward the witch, her plum coloured eyes blazing with fear and anger. Her wings, pale pink gossamer and as delicate as a butterfly’s, flowed behind her like water and a strand of her apricot hair slipped from its place in her intricate styling. She grasped the dryad’s chin in her hand, forcing her gaze upward.

“Where shall we find the dragon king, sorceress?” She asked, her grip tightening, slightly, on the dryad’s chin.

“If we find the underground ocean, milady, we will find the dragons.” Twisting, she tried to escape the fierce grip of the faery queen. Aysel tightened her hold, like a vice.

“If I find that ye have lied to me, Kiri,” she said, ominously. Within the caverns something seemed to echo the unspoken threat beneath her words, startling her into letting go of the witch’s face. Glancing into the sparkling void, she shivered and retreated to her stewards. As she went, a look passed betwixt her and Faolán, then quickly vanished. Yet, it did not go unnoticed by Kiri or the crystal eyes.

“We shall make our encampment here,” said the queen, holding herself very straight and aloof. “When the hourglass has emptied thrice we shall depart and continue along this path.”

Following his lady toward where the guards busily began to create a makeshift tent, Faolán glanced around. The landing provided a crossroad, of sorts, but it left the company open to an attack from all angles. He bit his tongue, reminding himself that they need only fear attack from above. It was clear that nothing kept residence in the caverns, not anymore. Bearing this in mind, Faolán approached his queen and gently pulled her aside.

“Your majesty, ‘tis not the wisest judgment to encamp here. ‘Tis nigh indefensible. T’would be better to take up residence in yon corridors.”

“And be trapped with no hope of escape? Nay, good Faolán, we shall camp here.”

“My lady, we are out in the open, entirely unprotected.”

“Aye, we be in the open, but we have room if we are to run.” The queen turned away, looking over her people and sighing. Taking her hand, the champion pulled her toward a dark corridor, out of sight.

“Aysel,” he began, but she waved her hand to silence him.

“Nay, I shall hear no more. We have been marching, nay, fleeing, for almost two days, Faolán. The men are exhausted. I am tired. We must rest. And I would have us rest where we have at least a chance of escaping if there be trouble.”

“Pray, Aysel, what wilt thou do if we find the fabled ‘prince of dreams?’” He looked down at her, his black curls serving to accentuate the dark look in his vibrantly blue eyes. He was troubled. The desire to serve, to protect his queen from any harm, was at war with his disbelief in tales of old.

“I know not.” She replied, the words leaving her lips in defeat and resignation.
Taking her in his arms, the faery knight held his queen, burying his face in her sweet smelling hair.

“Ah, my sweet, Aysel,” he sighed, breathing her in. “Ever shall I protect thee with my very life.”

They stood there for only a moment before he was forced to let her go. Distantly, he could hear a voice calling for her. As she walked away, he asked her,

“Wouldst thou have a small troupe of men, and myself, to scout our position?”

She did not look back at him, only nodded her acquiescence. Retreating to a small pavilion, hastily erected by her men, Aysel began laying out the maps of the Caverns of Omra. She studied the tracings, feverishly searching for any short-cut or secret passage that might lead her to the dragon king. All the while Faolán’s words, and the threats of Emyr, played war with the fear racing through her veins.

It had been a week’s time since Emyr had stalked into her court and commanded her to be his wife or suffer his wrath. It had been, at least, that long since she’d had the dryad witch kidnapped and brought to court as prisoner. She looked down at her locket, a gift from the goddess of the moon, and paused before opening it. Immediately the locket began to glow, showing only a sliver of silver. It had been three days since Emyr sent a missive demanding her surrender by the end of the lunar cycle. She had one more night, before her time was up, and she did not doubt that the goblin king was already on his way to retrieve her.

The Weight of Stars: Prologue

Its a funny thing, lying on the floor with your life slowly draining from your veins. Its not funny, its terrifying and, in that moment where you embrace death, you realize how much you want to be alive. You almost pray for a miracle, someone to walk in and save you, but this is the culmination of what you wanted, right? Isn't this the out that you've been desperate for since you first saw his face twisted with anger and disillusionment?

I feel like I'm standing outside of my body, like I'm trapped in the mirror watching it all with terrifying clarity. What a mess I've made of everything. At the same moment that I'm drifting out, I'm pushing back in, trying to fix this. Its not too late, it can't be. My mother said there was always a light to carry you home if you were lost. I'm so lost right now. I want this sweet agony and I want to live. I want to live more than I've ever wanted it before.

I'm screaming. Not physically, but outside of my body I am screaming and pounding against the glass of the mirror. This isn't fair! It isn't right! I'm supposed to live a long and happy life! What have I done?

What have I done?

I sit down next to myself and watch my eyes dim.

"Don't go yet, buddy. Hang on, please! Please, don't go yet. We have to make it until Mom gets home. Please."

Its useless to plead, but I can't help it. I look back up at the mirror, fractured from where I smashed it with my fists. I have bits of glass embedded in my hands and a large piece clutched in my loosening grip.

The memories come rushing in, flooding out the bloody scene before me. And I guess there is nothing to do but to reminisce in my final moments. I stand up and follow a white rabbit, of sorts, to the tunnel of my memories. His smile. His lips pressed to mine as we stood under the changing poplar trees. His eyes when he told me that he loved me. His hand in mine.

I glance back at myself, hearing the sound of my sluggish heart as it struggles to save me. He had called me a brave heart, once. I suppose I still have a brave heart, it keeps trying, staggering on even though the rest of me is already limp with defeat. Sunshine beckons me back toward the memories and I don't look back again.

All of Her: Epilogue

I am sitting in the rectory of a church. My bouquet of red roses and white baby's breath clutched tightly in my hands. This scene is familiar. It is because of this that I'm so nervous. My mother is puttering around behind me. She is nervous for me. I wish I could ease her fears, as well as my own.

I stand up, my long, red and white gown pooling around my feet. I am barefoot, per my soon-to-be-husband's request. I hope he will be my husband. I can't be that unlucky, right? Dumped at the altar twice?

"It's time." My mother says. She is beaming. Have I ever seen her this happy? Perhaps on her own wedding day. I smile, nervously, and squeeze her hand. She opens the door and ushers me into the foyer. Kevin and Clark stand on either side of the double doors. Two guards at the gates of the castle, awaiting their orders.

Elizabeth is my flower girl and Kristopher stands at her side holding his ring bearer pillow. Emma and Sophie stand behind me, adjusting and re-adjusting my train so that it will ripple like small waves on the shore. Anna stands beside me, smiling at her children and me. I am shaking now. Brad and my mother come up and each give me a kiss on the cheek. They slip through the doors and Greg replaces Kevin at the door.

Kevin takes my hand and we hear the music start. Greg and Clark open the double doors so that I can see the inside of the chapel. As I start to walk in, Clark winks at me. I may have made a lot of mistakes, but at least I made a wonderful friend along the way.

Against all reason, I freeze at the beginning of the aisle. At the other end is Jae, his white sherwani with dark red embroidery perfectly matching my dress. He smiles at me, that beautiful and constant smile, and suddenly I want to fly down the aisle and into his arms. I feel like dragging my brother down the aisle with me, though decorum prevents me from doing so.

It seems hard to believe that it has been five years since David and Alice broke my heart. Its been a little more than two years since I gave up on ruining myself. Its been two years since I finally let Jae into my heart far enough to make me fall in love with him. Two years falling in love. Two years realizing I was in love.

As I float down the aisle on Kevin's arm, I can only see Jae. He has his long black hair, with its signature dark red strip, down around his shoulders. Noah is standing next to him, a few tears glittering on his lashes. I can't believe this, it feels like a dream.

Anna, Sophie and Emma follow closely behind me, gently carrying the excess of my white lace veil. Greg goes over to his video camera to make sure it is recording. My mother and Brad stand off to the side, holding hands.

After what feels like a century of walking, I am presented to Lee Jae Hwa. My rescuer, my mysterious kisser, my friend and lover. The man I, finally, decided to give my heart to.

I've never been so happy.

All the heartache, all the terrible decisions, everything, was just a prelude to this moment. It seems hard to believe that five years ago I was destroyed by betrayal on a beautiful beach where the two loves of my life fell in love with each other. Its hard to believe that any of the past few years have been real.

I think of our first encounter, in the bar, and I blush. I think of that first kiss and I want to have many more like them. For years and years to come. I think of the first time I realized that I might be in love with him and thinking I was so crazy. I still think I am crazy. Crazy for waiting so long to say yes to the one who had been chasing me for years. Crazy for making him run after me and save me from myself. For everything.

I don't want to get overly sentimental, but they say a girl gets that way on her wedding day. I don't want to look back anymore, after this I am only going to look forward.

In a white and red dress, barefoot and with honey-gold curls trailing down my back, I take Jae's hand.

Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Here's to the plunge.

All of Her: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Noah arrives a few minutes after three, the king of 'never on time.' I am sitting behind the counter with my co-worker, chatting, when he walks in. He smiles and waves. Tossing a good bye over my shoulder, I follow Noah out the door. I hook my arm through his and we skip to his car, Dorothy and the Scarecrow off on an adventure in Oz. Noah takes me over to a new restaurant, the "Wicked Delicious," and before I know it we are seated with villainous menus full of "Witch's Brewskis."

"So, spill." says Noah, handing the menu to our waitress, who is dressed up like Harley Quinn decided to be a candy striper.

"I don't know that I can be serious in this environment, Noah." I reply, also handing my menu to the waitress. She smiles, brightly, before wandering off to get our drinks.

"Well let's start with something easy. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I don't know what I was thinking." I bury my face in my hands.

"I mean what made you think that was an okay thing to say?" he asks. I make a noise half way between a groan and a snarl.

"I don't know! I just, I was feeling too much."

"Like what? Like Celine Dion too much?" Noah leans in and drops his voice to a whisper. "Like, with your lady bits?"

"No!" I say, a furious wave of pink quickly taking over my whole face. “Well, maybe a little. But Noah I felt something else too. Like butterflies. Like, I don’t know. It was more than sexual attraction.”

“So what are you going to do?” The waitress returns with our orders and for a moment we are both lost in chewing. In-between bites of something called “Voodoo Chicken,” I stare off into space, almost longingly.

“What are you going to do?” he asks again, pulling me out of myself. He stares at me, quite intently, and I feel like he’s trying to peer into my skull.

“I don’t know. I don’t have his number even! And all I know is his first name. That’s not much to go on.” I push my food around on my plate for a minute, avoiding Noah’s eyes.

“So, how is it that he always knows where you are? Don’t you think that is a little creepy?” Noah takes a big bite of his “Ursula’s Seafood Salad” and stares me down.

“That, my dear Noah, is a very good question.”

"How do you intend to find out the answer?" he asked, taking another bite of his salad.

"Another very good question. I have no idea." I push my food around my plate some more and finally give up. I ask for a box and begin packing it up, while Noah takes care of the check.

"Might I suggest talking to him? I know its a crazy notion, but maybe you'll get an answer."

I look at him as if he just grew another head.

"You're suggesting I actually talk to him? You're not telling me to never see him again, get a restraining order, snap out of myself? Are you feeling well?"

"You know, I resemble the implication that I have always overreacted to situations. Resent, I mean resent." he smiles at me, inviting me to laugh at the joke and I smile. "Seriously though, Abe, I just want what ever is best for you. Destroying yourself over an asshole wasn't it and maybe this guy is the real deal and not a stalker. However, if he is a stalker, we always have Clark to defend us."

I laugh at that last, thinking of Clark fighting anyone, but quickly sober. Noah is right, damn it. He always is.

Somehow we find ourselves back in Noah’s car, driving back to the book store so I can pick up my car and go home. We ride in relative silence and I keep trying to think of ways that Jae isn’t as creepy as he seems.

At my car, Noah gives me a kiss on the cheek and I manage to drive myself home. Once I get there I flop on my bed, face first. Snuggles jumps onto the bed, beside me, and meows at me, nuzzling my head. I pat the bed a moment before my hand connects with a purring ball of fur and I pet him until he seems satisfied. I turn my head to look at him and he bumps my forehead, curling up next to my face.

We lay like this, Snuggles and I, for a good twenty minutes before I finally build up some semblance of motivation. I putter about the apartment for a moment, straightening miscellany before plopping down on my couch.

What if I’ve screwed everything up with Jae? What if he really is just some creepy stalker person? What if I’ve lost my damn mind? Oh, wait, that’s already happened. I heave a theatrical sigh, roll my eyes at my antics and decide I have to go to the beach.

I dig through my closet a moment, grabbing all the bits of my glow stick kite and a blanket to sit on, before leaving for the beach.

The drive doesn't soothe me and the more I think about the whole situation the more agitated I become. What if Noah is right and Jae is just like all the other men I've been with? A creep. Someone who just thinks he is madly in love with me. Someone who stalks me. I can't even stand to think about that, because I feel sick thinking about it. I realize that I actually have feelings for Jae, even though he is almost a complete stranger to me. My chest hurts as I pull into a parking spot. It continues to hurt as I unpack the car. And it hurts all the way down to the sand.

Sitting on the beach, my knees pulled up to my chest and my toes dug into the sand, I stare off into the horizon. My life has become soap operatic to the extreme and I brought it all on myself. I involved myself in dalliances, broke hearts, including my own; broke a nose, broke up a friendship. Resting my cheek against my knee, I sigh, again. A lot of things have become broken over this mess. And now, when I think I might have a chance to fix something, I realize that it might not be what it seems. And how can you fix something when you don't even know what it is.

As if he were summoned by my thoughts, Jae comes up and sits beside me. I don't jump, because when he sits down it feels as though he has been sitting beside me for years.

"How do you always know where I am?" I ask, glancing over at him. He looks very serious, his lime colored eyes searching the darkening horizon. "Are you stalking me?"

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" he replies, nonchalantly. He looks at me and I feel this rising bubble of something inside me. I don't know what to call it, this combination of hope and desire and fear, but it feels as though my chest may explode.

"Yes, it does."

"Its mostly coincidence, to be honest. Though, I feel like it is more fate than coincidence. I will admit to having some stalker-ish tendencies. I passed you and your girlfriend at the grocery store a couple times and then when I saw her picture in the obituaries I had to see you. I was worried about you, every time I saw you with her it was as if you had discovered color for the first time. I can't imagine what it must have been like to find her."

I feel myself tearing up, imagining Annabelle and I wandering the grocery store and him passing us.

"I may have also called every book store in the area. Twice." he looks sheepish at that last, ducking his head a bit. I laugh and, instinctively, lean over to kiss him. Its a short kiss, but when I pull away and look into his eyes, he pulls me back to him and kisses me in earnest. I feel all the mixed emotions expand in my chest, my face flushing with excitement and anxiety. After a moment, I push away, gently placing my hands against his chest and putting a silent wall between us.

"Abra," he says, looking concerned. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "No. I just, I'm not ready, Jae. I'm not ready to be in another relationship. I'm not ready, though I wish I were. I don't even know your last name or your phone number. You're like a ghost that appears to haunt me and then leaves me questioning my sanity. I don't know how to be around you because I have so many different feelings that won't let me think or breathe."

"Lee."

"What?"

"My last name is Lee. And my full name is Jae Hwa. I'll give you my phone number. I'm willing to go slowly. I'm willing to do anything you want. I'm willing to wait forever, Abra." He holds my hand in between both of his and looks at me, his face so serious, but his eyes are sparkling.

He says my name like it is the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. He says it and it is the most exciting and erotic thing I have ever heard. He says it and I believe he means every word he says. I look at him, the ache in my chest becoming almost unbearable. All I want is to be held.

"Abra," he gently pulls me toward him, mumbling my name into my hair. He hesitates a moment, to see if I will pull away again, and his eyes search my face for something I don't know. He sighs and holds me against his chest. He inhales slowly, as though he were trying to breathe all of me in.

"I love you." he says, pulling back to look at me, smiling. And I believe him.

All of Her: Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

I sit, behind the counter at work,  morosely involved in a tepid novel that I really don't feel like reading. The tea is probably cold, I certainly am. I feel absolutely no motivation to do anything, which is bad when you are at work. The phone rings and I fight the urge to ignore it.

"The Wilde: Rare and Used Books, this is Abra, how may I help you today?" I say, as cheerily as I can, into the old-fashioned rotary phone.

"Yes, I'm looking for a book on mythology. Particularly mythology surrounding humanity's creation." The voice sounds vaguely familiar to me. It tickles at the back of my mind for a moment, like a feather against the base of my skull.

"We have several of those." I remark, flipping back a page in my novel and book-marking it. "Were you looking for one in particular?"

"Do you have anything related to Aristophanes's mythology of three genders?"

"Are you referring to a work by Plato?" I ask, the feather tickle sensation increases.

There is a silence on the other end of the phone and I hear a soft click. I pull the phone away from my ear and look at it quizzically. I put it back to my ear a moment, hear the dial tone and then hang it up. The tickling sensation turns into more than aggravation. Laying my book down, I go in search of Plato. I find him, nestled between Socrates and Hypatia of Alexandria, and before I can pick him up I hear the bell for the door.

"Hello," I say, rounding a corner and almost smacking into someone. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

I look up and into the lime colored eyes of Jae. He smiles, his cupid's bow lips seeming to shoot arrows into my heart and I immediately step back.

"Hello." He says, still smiling.

"It was you on the phone?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," he has the gall to look a little sheepish. "I wanted to make sure I had the right book store."

I feel awkward. I don't know what to do. I lace my fingers behind my back and look everywhere but at Jae. He lets me feel awkward, just smiling down at me. After a moment I pluck up my courage, finding it beneath my pancreas hiding, and just start talking.

"Would you like some Nana tea? I have some brewing." I gesture toward the counter and begin moving before he responds.

"I'd love some." he replies, falling in step beside me. I feel wracked with nerves. I step behind the counter and begin pouring the tea. Some of it splashes on my hand, burning it and I drop my cup. Quick as can be, he is behind the counter and pouring some ice water onto a paper towel, pressing it to my hand. He then cleans up the mess I made, leaving me in shock.

"Why are you always here when I need you?" I ask, watching him pick up bits of my broken cup. He doesn't answer at first, merely dumping the shards into the dust bin and wiping up more of the spilled tea. When he stands up, he looks me in the eye and just smiles.

"Why do you always run away from me?" he asks, re-wetting the paper towel for my hand.

"I don't know you that well. You could be a serial killer for all I know."

"Don't you think that I would've killed you by now if I were a serial killer?" he asks, laughing.

"I never said you were a good serial killer." I retort, following him as he goes back to the 'customer' side of the counter.

"You act as though I've never tried to let you get to know me. The complete opposite, m'lady. Every time I try to know you better you run. Why?" He turns toward me and I feel those beautiful eyes as though they were inside of my head.

"I'm afraid." I mumble, looking at my hand. It is only a little red now and barely stings.

"Why are you afraid?" he asks, taking my chin in his hand and lifting my face toward him. I don't resist and look at his ribbon of a mouth.

"Because... I don't know why. I'm just afraid. I'm afraid of your attraction to me. I'm afraid of myself. Afraid in general, I guess. What does it matter to you anyway?"

"You said it yourself, I'm attracted to you. I have some very strong feelings for you. Feelings that I don't fully understand, but are there nonetheless."

"I don't understand." I murmur, my chin still in his hand. My gaze drifts down so that I just stare at his throat. He lifts my chin a little more and my eyes sweep up toward his eyes.

"You don't have to understand it. I see something you don't see." He lets go of my chin and I hear the bell over the door again. I scurry off to greet the newest customer, pretending that I can just forget he's there, waiting. After I direct the customer toward the section they were looking for I return to the counter. I throw the soggy paper towel away and avoid his eyes.

I pick up the book I was reading and carry it back over to a randomly stocked shelf. I continue to avoid any direct eye contact and shuffle back toward the tea pot. He comes around the counter, again, and pours the tea for me. He then goes back to the proper side and looks at me, expectantly.

"What exactly is it that you want?" I ask, irritated that he can make me so flustered.

"Would you be willing to go out for dinner after you get off work?" He sips his tea so nonchalantly. How does he manage to seem so unruffled while I feel like a cat who has been rubbed the wrong direction?

"I don't know. I have plans." I lie. I look up and see something in his eyes before it is gone. He looks at his tea, drinks it down in one go and carefully sets the cup back on the counter. He begins to head toward the door and I come around the counter as if I am going to chase him down. He turns and looks at me, his head tilted slightly to one side.

"I'll come again, some other time." He says.

"When?"

"I always know when you need me, so I suppose the next time you are in need of a friend."

"Wouldn't giving me your number be much easier?" I ask, trying not to sound too eager. He turns and looks at me, his smile suddenly turned devilish.

"I don't have a phone." With that, he winks at me and walks out the door, leaving me with my mouth dropped open.

I go back to the counter and flop down onto my stool. I see what he did, lying in response to my lie. I silently kick myself and then get back to work. It won't do me any good to mope about. He'll either come back or he won't. And I suppose that is an answer in, and of, itself.

Fortunately for my sanity I don't have to wait too long for Jae to come back. He comes in on a Friday morning, two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. I look up from my book and give him a questioning look.

"I thought you might like some coffee." he says, scooting a cup toward me. I must look surprised, because his smile widens. "Believe it or not, despite your efforts, I'm trying to court you and that includes bringing coffee to you."

"Why are you trying to court me?" I ask, picking up the cup of coffee and bringing it toward my nose. The smell of vanilla hazelnut makes me drool a little and I take a sip.

"Why do you question it?"

"I question everything." I reply, somewhat haughtily, placing my book on the counter.

"Have you ever seen yourself?" he asks, taking a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving my face.

"Of course I have!"

"I mean in person. Not in a mirror, not in a photograph."

"No, of course not. How would I be able to do that?"

"Exactly." he says, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Exactly what?" I ask, puzzled beyond all belief.

"You will never understand what it is I see in you because you have never seen yourself from the outside. If you did, you might recognize what it is in you that draws me to you."

I don't know what to say to that, so I just step over to a random book shelf and begin straightening it. I hear him set his coffee down and move toward me. He steps up behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders. My nerves begin to jump, my heart twirling inside my chest so fast that I fear it will burst. He is like a jolt of electricity, cycling through my blood stream, snapping my synapses.

He gently turns me toward him, his face mere inches from mine. I look up into his vibrantly green eyes and my throat tightens. I want to kiss him. I want to let him love me. I'm so tired of fighting a losing battle. I am wildly attracted to him. I have been since we met that first time at the bar. I want to see what it is he sees in me. I want to know him better than I do. I am shocked to discover that I don't just want to sleep with him, even though there is a very strong desire there as well.

"Tell me you want me to kiss you." he whispers, against my lips.

"What if I don't want you to?" I murmur, my eyes never leaving his.

He pulls back a bit, not in anger or hurt or even disappointment. In fact, he smiles at me again.

"Then I won't and I'll wait until you say 'yes.'"

"What does that mean?" I ask, confused and slightly surprised by this reaction. I had expected him to just kiss me anyway, with or without my permission.

"It means I'm willing to wait for you. It means I want you to say 'yes.' I want to know for certain, not just guess. I want you to be comfortable and actually interested in me."

"What if I was to just kiss you? Would you pull away?" I ask, closing a small amount of the distance between us.

"Would you like to find out?" he brings his lips closer to mine, but he continues to hold back. He is so infuriatingly close and, yet, so far.

I don't hesitate in that moment and I kiss his mouth. Something I've wanted to do since we met. He kisses me back, his arms wrapping around me so that I am securely pressed against him. As far as kisses go, this is by far the most amazing I've ever had. When he pulls away, I almost whimper.

"Kiss me," I say, my eyes locked on his. He smiles and obliges me.

After a moment, I pull away, remembering that I am, in fact, at work and my boss might frown on me making out with customers. He smiles at me, he is always smiling, it seems. I take another step back and begin organizing the shelf again. He goes back to the counter and sips at his coffee.

"Would you like to grab a bite to eat after you get off work?" he asks, taking another sip of his coffee.

I don't look at him, but my face is flushed at the thought of spending more time with him and my heart is beating like a high-powered drum. Still not able to look at him, I nod my head. The soles of his shoes scuff the floor as he comes back up behind me. He doesn't try to turn me around, simply holding me from behind. He wraps his arms around me and I feel so completely safe for a moment. He rests his chin on my shoulder for a moment and I turn my head slightly to look at him. He isn't smiling, though he doesn't look unhappy. He seems thoughtful.

Distantly, I hear the music we have playing over the store speakers. I smile at the very last line, the girl asking if his name rhymes with her own, and, for some reason, it makes me giddy. I look at him and wish. Wish for what, I don't know. I just wish. Looking at him, I think of having two faces. I search his to see if I recognize anything of our former incarnation. I don't know if it is my imagination that makes me believe that there is something that I recognize. Not in his face, but in him. Something I recognize and am drawn to.

"Why am I so drawn to you?" I murmur, glancing at his lips and then looking into his eyes. He looks at me, just looks, not speaking. He then looks at the book shelf and I follow his gaze. There are at least five different books he could be looking at and I don't know if he is even looking at the books or if he is just staring off into space.

"I can't speak for your attraction to me," he says, softly, still staring at the books on the shelf. "I can only speak for myself. And I am drawn to you because there is something in you that I recognize. You are someone that I want to be a part of, even if all you want from me is friendship. I want to be close to you, because there is something within you that pulls me in."

He looks back at me, his face mostly somber, though there is a tiny lift to the corner of his mouth. He seems so serious right then, as though he just gave me a promise. I search his face, again, my eyebrows furrowed and I must look just as serious as he does.

"Do you truly believe that I could be your other face? Or is that something you have said to many girls before?" I ask, even though I know that my phrasing is cruel. I bite my lip after I say it, as if I could take it back now. I see the sharp words embed themselves, like so many invisible knives, into his face. I see the moment that it registers in his heart because there is a subtle shift in his eyes and I regret opening my mouth. I start to apologize, but am interrupted by him speaking.

"I have never said that to anyone else. And, if we were to say goodbye today and never say hello again, I would not say it to anyone else, true or not."

He lifts his chin off of my shoulder and there is almost a tangible ache at the sudden weightlessness. As if some piece of myself just separated from me. He goes to grab his coffee and I watch him walk out the door, the chime sounding hollow in my ears. I feel like a bitch and an idiot.

I go over to the counter and find my cell in my purse. I punch in Noah's number, head to the door and flip the "Back in Ten" sign. I pat my pockets, as if I expect to find cigarettes, but quickly stop doing that because I gave up smoking. On the fourth ring I'm about to go and find a gas station, I'm that desperate for a smoke. So much for quitting my self-destructive habits. On the sixth ring I'm about to pitch the phone. On the eigth ring, he answers, sounding very tired.

"Hello?"

"Noah, I'm an idiot." I say, pacing a bit, probably looking like a complete crazy person. Which, I am, but that's beside the point.

"Tell me something I didn't already know." he says. I hear him yawn and I can picture him stretching. I look at my watch, 10:15. I'm supposed to be here until three, this is going to be a long day.

"Were you still asleep?"

"Yes."

"I would say I'm sorry, but you called me an idiot." I can't help but smile, considering how many times he has done the same thing to me.

"To be fair, you set me up for it. What did you do now?"

"I insulted Jae." I can practically hear him perk up through the phone at the name.

"Jae? Who is Jae? Please tell me you aren't starting up another self-destructive sexual binge again."

"I'm not! Well, I'm not trying to anyway. Jae is the really cute Korean that kissed me in the cafe. You remember, I asked him about a pizza and a fuck."

"And you insulted him? How and why and was it deserved?" Noah sounds more and more awake by the moment, I can hear the sounds of coffee percolating and fuzzy slippers shuffling.

"It wasn't deserved. It was by accident and I opened my mouth. Honestly, I have no idea where it came from."

"You've become jaded." He says that so matter-of-factly that I am speechless for a moment.

I glance at my watch again and wish I'd just closed for lunch. That would've been better. But who eats lunch at 10:something in the morning?

"Well, I think I'm going to be alone after work, do you want to go grab a bite to eat? I need to talk about this more, but I need to get back."

"Yeah, what time?"

"Meet me around 2:45? I am trading off with another girl at three, but she's always early."

We confirm our plans and I hang up, heading back into the store. Nothing to do now, but wait until three. There's nothing I can do about Jae right now.