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.

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 Goddess of Storms

The ocean rose, like a salty tongue, to lick the shoreline. The sky was bleached alabaster white, marbled with gray clouds that threatened more than rain. The voice of thunder rumbled as though it came from below one's feet. The beach seemed to be turned to miles of salt, white against the white of the sky against the blanched waves.
It was a perfect day for a battle.

The Mer-king reared up from the depths, seaweed woven into his crown, his scepter glowing a hot red. He roared in challenge and shook his fist at the bleached sky.

As if in response, the clouds darkened and opened to reveal a staircase of swirling gold. Stepping down from the sky, the Goddess, radiant in all her prismatic splendor, looked about, as if to ask who might dare to disturb her stormy preparations.

Spying the Mer-king, flanked on either side by a battalion of mer-men, she laughed. The sound was like the tinkling of rain against window panes, like sunlight jumping off of water. Unamused, the Mer-king raised a haughty salute and heaved a jagged breath. It was all a game. Petty disruptions in prelude to the ultimate conquest; her heart.

Every autumn, before the winter winds twined their icy fingers about his throat, he and the Goddess danced about one another. They raged at one another, fiercer combatants never before seen. The storms they created ravaged continents, broke open the earth, drowned the cities.

And, in the calm after they had battled to the brink of death, he would woo her. Pleading prettily that she join him below the lightning shattered waves. She would laugh, that beautiful musical laugh, and she would kiss him before she would disappear in the rain drenched sky.

This time he was determined. Determined that the destiny he was promised by the Sea Witch would be his. That he would be crowned the God of Sea and Sky, consort to the Goddess of Storms.

This time, when he took her in his embrace, she would find herself within the sea's embrace as well. She would preside over sparkling pearl palaces, gardens of brightly coloured plants glowing in the depths and his heart.

Ocean Speaks Peace

The ocean always spoke to her in ways no human voice could. It spoke to the parts of her that descended from mermaids and myth. It spoke to the depths of her azure colored soul and the breadth of her white-capped spirits. With her toes dug into the sand, she drifted out to the place where only the ocean knew her name. It rocked her to sleep, it dressed her in green and silver, it loved her. It constantly ran to kiss her feet, her hands, her face; it wrapped her in its salty embrace and carried her down into water softer than satin.

The Hanging Garden: Prologue

I do not remember when I first discovered the meaning of the Hanging Garden, though I had known of its existence for years. Nor do I remember when I first discovered the fate of those called to be its keeper. I had known that I would one day take the place of my mother as the queen of those grounds, though I had no idea the meaning behind its name nor the horrors that were to await me upon succession. I knew, only as a child knows of places they are forbidden to go.

In my mind I had greatly romanticized the Hanging Garden. Many an hour was spent daydreaming of the day that I would take my mother's throne and be the solo heiress of those haunted landscapes. I imagined tea in lavish gardens filled with fragrant roses and graceful willows. I pictured court suitors and lords desirous of my hand in marriage pleading with me beside small pools of crystal clear water. I imagined them proposing with white honeysuckle and purple hyacinths plucked from those very gardens, for where else would there be flowers as sweet?

I did not then know that my only suitors would be the ageless scarecrow, hung upon his decaying cross, and the merman prince, forever drowning in his pools of blood. I knew not that the only flowers in my care would be those that sprang from the viscera of wicked and innocent men, spilled in those gardens for generations before my own existence was realized. I did not know that upon taking my mother's crown, my mother's throne, that she would join the hanging bodies in that cursed garden. A forever feast for the carrion birds that flourished in that sweltering bubble of decay.

And now, in my age of dying, I begin to write these words to my daughter. She may read of her fate in them after I have gone to take my place aside my mother. A fate suffered by myself, my mother and countless generations of first born daughters to the cursed queens of the Hanging Garden. A fate that each generation has tried so desperately to record in the annals of a history censored by destiny. She may never read these words before she has met the ageless scarecrow or the drowning merman prince.

She may never read them, as I never read those of my mother. It is only now, in my age of dying, that I have found the words my mother recorded to warn me. How little I understood has now been made plain. Mayhaps my daughter will be wiser than I. Mayhaps she will do what I did not and read the words written as warning. I can only hope and pray to the pagan gods of this land that she does.

Though I do not know the use of these words of mine. Had I read my mother's words would I have been able to escape her fate? Would the line drawn by destiny have wavered? Would I have been able to change the course of time? I suppose it no longer matters as I am too old now to prove useful to anyone but the starving grounds to which I am promised.

So it is that in this, my dying age, I, Aubra of Jarron, do take up my quill and ink to write to my only child, Selene, of the Hanging Garden.

~~~

It has been said that once, many years hence, there lived a beautiful queen. She is said to have been a witch, marked so by her unnatural white hair and piercing lilac eyes. Though she was queen she was not safe from man's lusts nor his suspicious nature.

A day arrived when the queen was called to name her king, for she would need an heir once she had gone. She refused all that sought her hand. And though, they pressed, she refused to name a man as her king. This infuriated her advisers and those that sought to make themselves higher in status than was their station. So much so that they conspired against the queen, seeking to overthrow her and name one of their own as king of the land.

One night, not long after refusing yet another suitor's advances, the queen was walking through her garden. The garden was famed throughout the land for the lushness of its grasses, the grace of its trees and the fragrance of its flowers. Though those against the queen whispered quietly that it was only so beautiful because of sorcery and innocent blood spilled. Flowers that beautiful could only be grown by the spilling of innocent blood upon the earth. Trees that strong must only grow from the bones of honest men buried. Grasses that soft could only thrive from the tears of the mighty felled by wickedness.

While she walked through her garden, the queen was ambushed by her advisers and rejected suitors. She was bound and hung, naked, from the tallest tree in her garden. As she struggled for air she placed a curse upon the men that bound her there.

"This day," she gasped. "I curse thee and all that may come after thee. Thy wife shall rise above thee and all thy daughters will be sworn to follow me. This garden, thou shalt not enjoy, for when I die all shall die with me. A beautiful garden no longer to be, a Hanging garden shall be the last thy eyes shall see."

Her last breath came out as a sigh and as it floated away the men marked a strangeness growing within them. Each man found himself rooted to the ground, vines pushing out from within them. Their screams were terrible to hear and the earth quaked with fear. Thunder crashed and lightning struck as each one of them became a part of the garden. Once beautiful, as the queen had said, now the garden had become a place of death.

From each man's eyes grew venomous flowers, stained with the lust and envy of the heart. From their mouths grew spiked grasses, sharp as razors. From their bones grew haunted trees, bound to the earth by wickedness. From their hearts burst flowers and vines, until they had been choked to death by them.

In the garden it is not hard to find them, they stand as a monument to the curse. Forever rooted before their betrayed queen, her body clothed only in vines and rotting flowers.

~~~

My daughter, Selene, today you are seventeen. The day that you will take my throne and bear my crown. Today is my dying day. The day that all mankind must one day meet. I do not yet know if all my writing will be for naught or if you shall heed the warnings herein. I suppose that only time will tell and my time is quickly running out. As my successor, and only child, I hope you do.

When you take your first steps as queen, they will be to follow me to the garden. A garden you have heard of many times. A garden you have known for years would one day be yours. A garden in which you shall watch me die as I watched my mother die. And as she watched her own mother die before me. It is only once I have joined my mother, her mother and all the generations of women before me, that you shall be completely bound to the garden. I wish it was not so, but wishes mean nothing in the light of reality.

After you have watched me die, you will be compelled to wander the landscape. In your coronation gown, stained with my blood, you will find yourself standing before the first queen to die in the garden. You will be surrounded by her betrayers, her monuments. You will feel sick and overwhelmed, but you are not done yet.

There are more horrors in this garden. It is a testament to the madness flowing rampant through our veins, your veins. I will not speak of all that there is within this cursed ground. Though I know them better than the skin that covers my bones. You will learn in time, what I have learned.

You will have no suitors, no men to call upon your hand. You will have no lovers, besides those that may be found in the garden. You will be alone until the day that you, too, bear a daughter. Have no doubt that you will bear nothing but daughters no matter how hard you wish for a son. No matter how you may try, you cannot escape that part of the curse.

The first man with whom you speak will be the scarecrow. He stands, crucified to a dying tree, in the center of the garden. He is never to be removed from his post. I know not how he came to be there. He only speaks in rhymes and is timeless within time, ageless within age. He is the only beautiful thing within the walls of the garden, though he has tattered with time and age. He will ask from whence you come and whence you came. You must never answer him. I know not why.

The second man you will encounter in the garden is the merman prince. He is secluded in the furthest corner of the garden, drowning in a pool of blood. He will never leave his pool and he will never drown. He will give you a gift, which you must not open until your dying day. His words will sound like honey in your ears, but their meaning will turn your hair white as snow. You will fall in love with him, as many generations before you have, but beware his love.

I do not know how he came to be imprisoned within those pools of blood or how the scarecrow came to be crucified on his dying tree. Perhaps you will read the volumes left behind by previous generations and within them find the answers. I do not know why I was so foolish as to believe I could find them without help. I pray you do not fall prey to the same arrogance as I.

These are the last words I write, darling. I leave my words behind hoping that you will be the undoing of this curse and that you will be a better queen than I. You may find all the writings of your ancestors within the libraries buried beneath the garden. You will know how to find them, though you may not know their use until it is too late. You will be brave, because you are stronger than those that have gone before.

These are the last words I, Aubra of Jarron, last queen of the Hanging Garden, leave my only daughter, Selene of Jarron, newest queen of the Hanging Garden.

All of Her: Prologue

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

He says that and my heart breaks, because I know it's true. I can imagine them entangled, wrapped up in pink sheets and pink flesh. It isn't fair, of course, but I can see that it doesn't matter what is fair and what is not.

Am I an idiot for wishing it was me instead?

I smile, a wobbly smile that speaks of tears and regret. He doesn't notice, he is staring off into her distance. The beach feels like it is trying to swallow me whole. The ocean is rocking and he is rocking away and into her arms. I'm still just standing there. Watching the two loves of my life fall in love with each other.

Its like a punch to my chest, really. Like he just took a rusty nail and pounded it into my heart.

I feel like getting drunk. I watch them swimming off into the sunset, like a couple of mer-people to Atlantis. Or maybe that is my broken heart's imagination. Its a little ridiculous, looking at it from where I am now.

"What did you say?" he asks.

I am snapped out of my depressing daydreams. Did I say something out loud? Was I just voicing my inner monologues? Oh shit.

"Hmm? I didn't say anything." I start walking away. He doesn't follow, so I take this as a good sign. Everything has reduced to slow motion action movie, that moment where the good guy moves just in time kind of moment. Except, instead of action it is me being a bit of a child and trying to run away from something I don't understand.

The time has come, the walrus says, to talk of many things. He is right, of course, even talking walruses can be right sometimes. Unfortunately for myself, I don't feel like talking about anything. Is it strange that I have a walrus in my head rather than shoulder angels/devils? Thank Alice for that, of course.

I have decided to run away. Or cry. Either seems viable at this moment. Alice and David are off in their wonderland, in love and laughing. I turn, still in slow motion, and see them kissing and smiling that sweet and innocent smile of a first and only love. Damn it, why did I look back?

I feel like Lot's wife, like I've just been turned into salt because I glanced back. I'm frozen and slightly raw, like the wound just got scrubbed. Ridiculous really, to liken my feelings to some woman who may or may not have existed and may or may not have been turned into a pillar of salt. And now that I think about it, how did they know she got turned into a pillar of salt if they weren't allowed to look back? Or were they behind her when she looked back?

Now I'm just rambling.

Nothing changes the fact that Alice and David are still canoodling and I'm still being a child and walking away. Again with my stupid and irrational inner monologues.

It is time for a change. A distance of sorts. I'm not running away.

Okay, I am.

Who can blame me really? It isn't fair. Not fair at all. I want to scream or bleat like a billy goat. Neither one of those things will do a damn bit of good. I know that. Plus, I'll just look like an idiot. So, time for a change of scenery, Abra. Time to rethink everything in a different location.

The only real question now is: Where?

Troian and Dante

   On a cloud, golden in hue, lay
Troian, daughter of Passion and Loathing.
Mournfully, she played a forgotten
tune and watched over empty worlds of blue.
   To her weeping eyes came the
shepherd boy, Dante, playing his
stringed instruments and in singing
turned her gaze.
   She cast off immortality and
loved him as humans love. Yet, Dante
returned not her fancy and, in her grief,
cast herself into the arms of the sea.
   Forever she cries, her moans
and tears causing fair foam to
spring from the deep. And no ship is
safe when it be that Troian weep.

The Mermaid: Chapter V

Chapter Five
            As he pulled her up, the water rocked under them. Together, they stood upon the water, her tail slowly changing back to legs. She could not see him, her back to his chest, only everything around her. Then, as if in a dream, the water rose to the sky, engulfing them in a wave of water. Fire shot out of the deep, ashen lightning struck all around them, everything shook. For a confused moment, the mermaid thought that she could see her father above her, throwing down stars and pieces of the sky. It was then that the demon pulled her close to his chest, her back pressed close to him. He, too, was looking up, into the face of the breaking sky. He seemed afraid and angry at the same moment.

            Then he crossed his arms across her chest and dragged her under. At first she fought him, trying to escape his embrace, trying to breathe. Her body struggled to return to tail and fin, her body half faded. It was as if his arms were burning into her flesh, as if they were becoming one as they reached the floor. The ocean floor began to open beneath them, surrounding them in darkness. Her heart beat furiously as they touched earth.

            For the first time in six years, the change was painful. It tore, what remained of, her body down and seared it back. She now only had one arm and one leg. She could still walk, as if it was still there, but no evidence existed. Her body ached, and shook from the pain. She could not feel anything, only the pain that held her down.

            The demon held her closely as she changed. He knew how the pain was all that existed in her at the moment. She shook violently, just as the world above them shook and tore apart. If it was possible, in that moment he loved her. He longed to set her free from the pain and the eternity she would suffer alone. His lips brushed her spider web thin hair and his hand grazed hers.

            As she regained her vision, Troian began to notice the darkness all about them. All she could see was the demon's glowing white hair and bloody red tips. His face remained shrouded by the cloak and a gentle mist that encircled them. In that moment she wanted to see his face, see the expression. Was it evil or good? She did not know why she wanted to know, but the question continued to persist. She could feel his eyes on her, his arms slowly releasing her body. His gaze unsettling, even in the dark. The silence wrapped its arms around them, causing shivers to run up and down her spine. She could feel his heart beat, feel his soul take a breath, in the silent shadows.

            He stretched out a hand to touch her, but, as if sensing his touch, she drew back, afraid. He seemed to ignore this, moving closer to her. She tried to move back, but found she could not, her back against a barrier. His hand brushed her face, the heat of his hands burning into her. She remembered Jael's fingers, icy to the touch so that they burned.

            When his lips found hers, his kiss burned against her mouth, at once the most heartrending experience of her life. It stole her breath, both sweetness and pain, soft and harsh. It burned against her soul, touching every part of her, without leaving her lips. It was at once heaven and hell, fire and water, the deepest pain her blood and soul had suffered. She knew that this would be the last thing she felt, the last taste of life she would touch. Good and evil were laced within that kiss and her death sealed it.

            It was destined that she die in his arms. That she fade with only his kiss to follow her lost soul for all eternity. In the depths of her soul, it was truth. Truth was not a myth, for it lay here, it was touching her deep within. It was good that she lost Dante, to gain this demon and lose herself. Finally, she would not have to remember anything. She was finally free. Even as she faded further and further away, his lips remained against hers, she would never be alone again.

            For in the never-ending black abyss of hell, she could remember that kiss. All she could think of was that he had freed her. With his kiss, with this final gentle touch, he had freed her to lose herself. He had freed her to lose herself, find her peace, find her truth and be who she was before love destroyed her. In those last moments she left herself behind, fading into oblivion.

The Mermaid: Chapter IV

Chapter Four
            "I do not know why I feel I should tell you, but it is as if some burning desire is in me that will not be quenched. As if you were wishing for me to speak it. Maybe, in speaking it, I will obtain the peace I have searched so long for.

            "I was kidnapped, mermaid. Stolen from my home and taken on board that ship. I was abused by the captain, using me to his own evil purposes. I wanted revenge, but not on you. I never had the chance to take my revenge, because just as the storm began is when they did this,"

            Jael hesitated, touching her chest with tentative fingers. She pulled on the fabric, letting it slip slightly to reveal a bloody opening across her chest. It was empty of any heart. In her memory, Troian saw Jael's body floating atop the water, her chest a gaping chasm, empty.

            "Why have you not asked for your heart?" asked Troian, she lightly touched the hollow.

            "When they murdered me, all I could think of was revenge. I have never longed for my heart, only for the peace I should possess. I just want the peace and freedom denied me. That is why I come every year. Not for my heart, only seeking peace. And every year, it is not to be found. I have searched for years and still have not found it, nor the source of it."

            "It isn't here." Replied Troian.

            "I now know that. And, soon, you will not be here either." The ghost lightly brushed fingers across the mermaid's lucent skin.

            "I know. I'm fading, dying. In a way, I'm transitioning, preparing for hell. I fear that, after tomorrow, I won't see you again. This is my last winter as a mermaid. My last winter with you." She shivered under Jael's touch.

            "Why, mermaid? Why are you to be punished?"

            "I asked to much of my mother. Because I rejected the gift that had been given me. I tried to throw away my life, which had only become mortal after I had pleaded for it. I longed for more than my fair share. And that was unforgivable."

            For a long time they sat quietly together, both longing for comfort. As it got darker all around them, Jael began to disappear. Before she was completely gone, she pressed an icy kiss to Troian's cheek. She remained quiet, looking up at the stars and wondering. She pondered everything Jael had said, piecing everything together in her mind. The sky seemed to be so empty, so completely bare and void of anything, even stars. She could almost see through the window of the heavens into her old home, her old life. Just as she could see through herself.

            She looked down, where her hands had been. She had faded almost completely. Her hands were gone and her hair was turning silvery and thin like spider webs. The slender bones that made up her body appeared under the surface. Rivers of blood rushed under where her skin had been. It seemed strange to her, that she die now. Why not when her heart was broken beyond repair? When her soul had weighed so heavily inside of her that she feared it would leave her behind to face the end? Why not then?

            She was afraid, more afraid of fading than she had ever been. As if summoned by her fear, threatening clouds covered the moon. Demons sprang from the dark, one plucking at her arm. One grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. He was handsome, with blackness in his eyes and evil written across his face. Though evil existed on his face, a mixture of purity and loveliness claimed it as well. He seemed to be a mixture of both, a vague light of passion and fragility glowed under the black that overwhelmed his eyes.

            His hair was intensely white, the tips of it dark crimson as if it had been dipped in blood. He stopped a moment, as if her translucent beauty made him remember something. As if he saw some of the same mixture in her eyes as well. Only he seemed to see what she had seen reflected in the eyes of a ghost. That subtle sense of darkness and something sinister, that lay deep within. For a moment longer they stared into each other's eyes. Then he released her hair.

            The others had also been staring at her, watching the two of them in a sense of disgust and awe. They recoiled slightly at the pure beauty they saw. If they, too, had looked into her eyes, they would have seen what he saw. As if waiting for a cue, they stood still. The moon above remained engulfed by clouds and every second the darkness grew.

            Then, suddenly, they overcame her, like waves on top and all around her. She tried to escape, pushing away and moving toward her beloved ocean. She screamed, crying out for help. The demon with the white and red hair stopped her mouth with a kiss, pressing his lips to hers. His mouth was strong and sure. She could feel terror flooding through her, then nothing but his mouth on hers.

            She had never been kissed by any man, not even her father had kissed her. His mouth was sweet pressed to hers, but she could taste the evil laced within it. It broke her heart, tearing it into bits and pieces. Tearing her down, violating her soul with only his mouth as passage. She longed to break away, but could not. He was destroying her, killing her more than Dante ever could. He was murdering her with only a kiss. Then he pulled away.

            Tears ran down her face as the demons continued to torment her. Throughout the night they plagued her. Breaking her spirit, taunting her and assassinating any hope she might have had. As the sun rose, the demon, who had kissed her, stopped, a mournful look on his face. Then they all fell to the ground, like sand. The wind picking up the pieces and carrying them away.

            She felt raw, bleeding on her legs and arms. She was safe for today, but once tomorrow came she would be more than half gone. Then after that she would disappear completely. She pulled her legs up to her chest and pressed her cheek to her knees. She could only cry and wish that Jael would return soon.

            Then, in a moment, she was running to the ocean, slipping under the satin of the waves. It was as if she was being buried under the waves, unable to breathe, unable to touch the surface or the light above her. All she could do was sink down into the dark void of the ocean's arms and let the pain of one last change overwhelm her body.

            Curls of her blood floated about her in a crimson mist. Her vision was becoming hazy. The change was taking too long. Any longer and she would drown, crushed by the only thing that had truly loved her. As she fell further and further she cursed her fate, screaming into the silence of the deep. Then she took a breath. Visions of her future and the demon filled her mind as she finally touched the bottom. Her dreams were filled with these visions, making her toss and cry out. The ocean above began to stir, the clouds rumbling and white lightning skimming the surface.

            Even to the floor of the deep, the boom of thunder echoed. It rocked the world under her, causing her to stir. In stirring, she glimpsed the demon, shrouded in a heavy black cloak. To escape him, she swiftly swam up, exploding into the utter chaos.

            In awe, she watched as the sky shattered all around her, the moon tore herself apart. Blood stained every part of the heavens, the world seemed to have destroyed itself under the strain. The demon stood above her, then, grabbing her shoulders, he pulled her up.

The Mermaid: Chapter III

Chapter Three
            In sleep, she dreamt of her life before she became trapped in her own emptiness. Before she'd fallen in love.

            She had been the daughter of the goddess of love and the god of hate. The most beautiful child born to the gods. She had been pampered and spoiled, loved. She'd had red curls, porcelain skin and greener than green eyes. She was taught music and became the muse of poetry and fate. Her brothers, Charis and Eteray, were gods of war, muses of history and epic orations. She had adored them both, spending long days playing with them.

            On that fateful day, her brothers had been hunting with their father. She was desperately alone and, to keep herself amused, she decided to play her music. She'd been reclining on a cloud, draped in the golden light of the sun, playing her flute. The tune had been as mournful as the night, causing tears to spring to her eyes. She'd only glanced down upon the world below for a moment when she saw him.

            Dante was a shepherd, handsome and kind. He was playing a harp, the tune merry and light. Troian had loved him from first sight. She longed to touch his brown curls, caress his satin cheek. Longed to kiss his ribbon of a smile. She could not bear to be away from him. She could not be content with watching him every day. It was then that she had gone to her mother and pleaded with her for mortality.

            And she had given it. Love had given her mortality. She gave up everything; her brothers, her mother and father. Everything she had ever loved, she gave for him. Though she tried to make him love her, Dante did not love her back. He was in love with a beautiful shepherdess named Cassandra. Cassandra had hair the color of gold, long and falling in waves. Her eyes were the lightest blue anyone had ever seen, both enticing and generous. No one could deny that Cassandra was beautiful, not even Troian. So she had been a shadow, watching Dante with Cassandra.

            She had wept, trying to change his mind, but man proved fickle and strong willed. Then tragedy had struck, killing Cassandra in its wake. While at the market a lion attacked. The beautiful girl was the first of many who were mauled to death in the square. In the aftermath, Dante had been filled with despair, ignoring Troian and her desperate plea that he love her. Shortly after Dante killed himself in sorrow, breaking her heart.

            That's when she had thrown herself into the ocean, letting the satin-soft waves engulf her. To save her, the gods changed her into a mermaid, only there was a time limit. She had to be punished, she had been given a gift and she had rejected it. Thrown that gift into the ocean with her. The gods made it so that when she died, or faded, it would be into everlasting hell. This as payment for her love, as punishment for her sin. And, in the emptiness of hell, she would remain.

            The change had been painful at first. Ripping her into pieces and burning her back together. She had cried out, screamed curses to the heavens so that the earth rocked under her pain. She called out to her mother, pleading with her to save her, but her mother turned her back and walked away. The last thing she saw was her brothers walking away from her, turning deaf ears to her screams.

            Then all had been black.

            When she had awoke, she was entangled in seaweed and her dress on an empty island. Then she knew she was completely alone. She had been banished, sentenced to a short time on a completely empty piece of world. Not even animals lived on her island. In the ocean she was not alone, but once she touched land she was isolated.

            And for two years she had been exactly that. That was until the accident. That was when Jael had appeared. The ocean had been dark and stormy that night.

            The water was screaming, seething under the tumultuous strain. Lances of lightning struck the sand, sparkling and bubbling. She had awoke as thunder rolled, booming all around her. She had looked up to see a ship blow up, illuminating the sky. It had taken all her strength to swim out to the wreck.

            Desperately, she had searched, looking for any survivors. But she had not found any. 45 men, dismembered and black from the explosion. Only one woman was among them, her body somehow managing to survive the explosion. Her dress was bloody and her chest a gaping hole. Her face was distorted, silently trapped in her final screams of anguish. For a moment, she had stared into the dead girl's face, wrestling with her thoughts. She had thought to bury the girl on the beach, but instead she had fled.

            She retreated back to the beach, trying, in vain, to cleanse her mind of the sight. On the beach she had found the girl's heart, washed upon the shore by the storm. She had buried it under a tree, whispering silent prayers to the blue above her.

            Jael and the nightmares began the next year. When the specter had first appeared, Troian had been too afraid to speak to her. So that she had not spoken to Jael until that day on the beach. When they had first spoken, she had believed that the spirit had wanted its heart, but Jael had never asked for it. She had wondered why the ghost had come, why the nightmares had plagued her, if not for the heart. In her dream, she determined to ask Jael the many questions probing her dreams and visions.

            Then she awoke to the gentle, icy, touch of ghostly fingers.

            "I think," said Jael. "it is time you heard my story.

The Mermaid: Chapter I

Troian and Dante
    On a cloud, golden in hue, lay
Troian, daughter of Passion and Loathing.
Mournfully, she played a forgotten
tune and watched over empty worlds of blue.
    To her weeping eyes came the
shepherd boy, Dante, playing his
stringed instruments and in singing
turned her gaze.
    She cast off immortality and
loved him as humans love. Yet, Dante
returned not her fancy and, in her grief,
cast herself into the arms of the sea.
    Forever she cries, her moans
and tears causing fair foam to
spring from the deep. And no ship is
safe when it be that Troian weep.


Chapter One
The blaze of orange danced on the bluest ocean. The silver of the moon was already ascending her black throne, her diamond attendants appearing behind her. A streak of emerald green, flitted just under the surface of cobalt glass. The lonesome wind whipped the waves into white dancers, crashing upon the amber sand. Red and green crabs scuttled along the shore, climbing, searching, the rough span of rocks. Dolphins grazed the surface, reaching up to the sunset sky. Seagulls called back and forth, riding the wind.

            As the last sliver of sun disappeared on the horizon, she emerged from the water. She lay still as her green-silver tail changed into slender ivory legs. Her crimson-gold hair fanned around her in tangled dreadlocks; oyster pears, gold and silver beads entwined in it.

            For awhile she lay in thought, ebony encompassing the sky above her. When she stood it was as if watching a perfect statue come to life. Her hair fell to the middle of her back, her lithe body swathed in a faded wrap. She could hear the ocean calling her back to it, begging her to return, to join it in her true form. Heart swelling in her chest, she walked away.

            Alone, she walked up the beach. A graceful hammock swayed back and forth in the, now, playful breeze. She did not sit in the hammock, but instead sat in front of it, digging her toes into the still warm sand. Tears rolled down her porcelain cheeks, creating small stains on the ground beneath her. She was so alone, so far from any company, any hope of love. Love was what had trapped her here, banishing her to this place. She would live and die here, exiled from her people and forever alone.

            The trees gently swung above her, eclipsing her view of the sky. Eternity was not so long, she thought. If only she had a friend a companion. Someone to share her thoughts with, love and be with. What did she need with love? She did not wish to remember, only the memories came anyway. She did not need companions, or friends. She had been deceived by her family, by her friends and by love. Still, she remained lonely and dismally in despair. She didn't notice when the tears began to fall faster, she only climbed into her hammock, wishing for sleep to come quickly.

            The tears continued to flow, even as her green-apple eyes closed in sleep.

            The sky erupted with spears of white lightning, the moon hiding behind a lacy, black, cover. The girl was wandering up and down the beach, wild ocean tugging, pulling her into its salty embrace. Black curls swept about her shoulders, white-violet eyes gazing into the fury of the storm. She stood still, untouched by the chaos around her. In horror, the mermaid watched the crimson rain fall all around the girl, never touching her pale skin or black hair. Slowly, her gaze turned onto the mermaid. She seemed to speak, but the words were lost on the violence of the wind.

            As if she had seen through the mermaid, she looked back out to the raging sea. A fire licked the horizon, screams of terror overpowering the storm's might. A ship came closer and closer, setting the water ablaze. Suddenly, it exploded, bursting into indistinct pieces and lighting the sky with bodies of fire. In that moment the girl disappeared, only a beating heart lay where she had stood. Blood stained the heavens above, the moon gorging herself upon the havoc.

            Then all was darkness and ocean.

            Her breath was ragged as she sat upright. Sweat dripped from her lean body, causing her to shiver with cold. Pulling her knees to her chest, she wished everything would disappear. This was the fifth time the dream had come this month. It always came more often when winter began to approach.

All she knew was the girl's name was Jael.

The voice of the ocean began to call her, pleading with her to come to its arms once

again. This time she ran into the embrace of the water, diving beneath the waves and allowing the change to engulf her body. It wasn't painful, not anymore. She could remember the first time she had changed, the first time she had been released. It seemed so long ago, as distant as the moon above, yet closer than the water which pressed against her. Why could she not purge herself of these memories? Purge her soul of this nightmare? Of this girl?

            The dream continued to plague her as she swam. She fled further and further into the arms of the depths, trying to escape the nightmare. Brushing her fingers along the bottom, she felt as if she was touching the stars. She could not think of anything but the dream and as it became more clear to her, she shivered. She lay at the bottom a long while, willing her heart to stop wildly raging in her chest. If only she could escape the nightmare, purge it from her thoughts, from her heart. Maybe then she could rest, close her eyes and let the water rock her to sleep.

            Something, inside of her, pushed the dream down and she began to feel drowsy. She closed her eyes and when she woke all trace of her nightmare was gone. She did not sleep long, but the sun was already half way through with his work. The longing for the warmth of the sun brought her to the sparkling surface and there on the golden beach stood Jael.

What it Seems

I seem to have it all, so clear and defined. I am living the perfect life.
And you don't see me when I'm falling, no I hide that away from your sight.
Yes, I have it all, like Ariel, I got treasures galore. At least that's what you see. But isn't it hard for you to see without sight?

I wait until you leave, to let these tears fall fast and hard. I am so darkened,
so hidden in these shadows, that all you see is the outer shell. Take a deeper look, stop for a moment and actually open your eyes to see what is going on within this beautiful corpse.

Yes, I have the perfect life, perfect everything. I am what you wish you were, but you don't see the Hell that stands behind the glitter. If you dig deep enough you might actually learn something. I am pent up, about to explode, about to overflow and all you see is the outside.