For The People We Love

For the people we love,

We hope and pray.

For the people we love,

We cry our tears.

For the people we love,

We would do anything.

For the people we love,

We never want to lose them.

For the people we love,

We will protect them.

For the people we love,

We will be their sacrifice.

For the people we love,

We will never turn away.

And for the people we love,

We never ever want for them,

To be the spectacle of a public charade.

They are the people we love,

And we love them the most,

In the way that no one else can.

For the people we love,

We will hold our own.

For the people we love,

We will grieve

And we will live.

Madness

Is the chaos and destruction,

That takes the lives of those we love,

And turns the world upside down,

Turning it into “painfulness”

The colour of blood and water.

Saying Goodbye. No. 2.

“This is it.”

“Yeah.”

“Give me a hug.”  I hug her, and then I cry.  “Why are you crying?”

“You’re going,” I said.  “Back to China!”

I didn’t know her long.  But she’d become a friend for life.

“Stupid!”

“I’m not stupid!”

Laughing she goes,  “See ya later”

Right, not goodbye, “yeah, see ya later.”

Roses.

 

Roses scented the air; brushed her arms.  Thorns clung to her skirt, ripping and wrenching the silk to shreds.

Roses of attraction and love.  Roses for everyone but you.”  She shivered and pushed on, pushing away the witch’s black voice.  At last she reached him and she fell to his side, shielding him from death.

 

 

One Thousand Nights.

For one thousand nights I will have the same kinds of dreams.  An impossible cacophony of sadness and darkness.  They would weigh upon my heart like an anchor on a ship.  There is no pillow to soften the blow, so the colours of blue, black and yellow choose to show.  They colour me.  They are a colour patchwork across my heart.  I cannot see beyond the dreams, I cannot breathe.

I wake, my heart races faster than the last time I dreamt.  I remember the dream for the eight hundredth time.  I feel as though the surface will crack.

Eight hundred days ago the dreams began.  They took from me my sleep and they took away my freedom.  These dreams of lives, real lives?  They became my everything.  At first they were just dreams, dreams of sadness that drained my energy.  But as each night passed, and with each day I lost my sleep, the dreams became nightmares.

I wanted them to go away.

“What the hell are you doing?”  I squealed, jumping out of my seat.

“You!”  I said.  “Oh get away from me.”

Ero was the dream master.  His life was about dreams.  I met him by accident eight hundred days ago.  He was the one who did this to me.

“What does it bother you?”  He said, the dark ethereal tendrils of his cloak billowed about him by some unseen wind.  “Two hundred more nights to go.”

I hated him.  He was as pale as a ghost, yet his hair was as dark as the night.  They had always been like that.  But what was unsettling was the pale quality of his eyes.  As he stared at me with his hand resting on the back of my chair, he was seeing into my soul.  No one else could see what I was seeing.  No one else could see the dark shadow that encompassed the guy.  No one else saw his pale all-seeing eyes.  No one but me.

I said nothing.  I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that I was unsettled by the dreams.

“Well, see you later then.”  And he walked away.  When he left, it felt like a whole world of burden had been lifted from my shoulders.  Even so I could not breathe until he was gone.  I watched as he walked out my classroom, his cloak wavering behind him like endless smoke.  He didn’t turn back once.

When he was gone I could breathe again.  But like the last few years, the whispers began.

“He’s so hot!”

“Who is he?”

“Was that his girlfriend?”

And always I would slouch in my seat, hiding as much as I could behind my textbook.  If they knew what he was like, I doubt that would say such things.

This story began eight hundred days ago.  I was in my ninth grade of high school.

I was a happy person.  I had a boyfriend.  I had friends.  I had a great family.  I had everything.  But I was not nice.  I ignored a lot of things and used blunt methods to get what I wanted.  It wasn’t hard.  At fourteen, just being popular is the ultimate goal.  Easy if you played your cards right.  So then why did I end up like this?  It’s because I met him.

He didn’t look like he did now.  Eight hundred days ago, on the first day I walked passed him, he was dressed like nerd, with glasses and acne.  He asked me for help.  In my heart I felt bad because he was asking everyone for help.  Some signed the petition, the others walked by.  I didn’t know what the petition was for, since I was feeling excessively self-conscious and guilty, I didn’t hear what he said.  Instead, I looked once at my friends and once at the guy.  I didn’t even acknowledge the guilt in my heart.

I refused him, insulted him, and told him to stop giving everyone an eyesore.

And that was the turning point.  Although I didn’t find out until later that night when I looked out my window.  I saw him watching me.  Still in his nerd disguise he looked creepy.  Afraid and guilty, I dropped several plates that night.

And I had the first dream.  I dreamt of someone’s unending sadness.  I dreamt about a person like that guy, whose days are inconsolable and burdened.  I became that person, walking through the school hallway, her eyes averted, afraid to look at those beautiful people who looked down on her.

I woke in a sweat.  It was a dream and yet I could feel the girl’s pain—my pain—so clearly, I wondered whether it had been real.  It had terrified me even though I’d only dreamt of being the school outcast for what felt like a moment.  It terrified me.

I didn’t know that was his plan.  But I saw him in school the next day, again dressed as a nerd.  But he just smirked at me.  When my friends saw it, they shoved me and said, “You’re not going to take that crap, right?”

And I wouldn’t.  Because that was who I was.  I couldn’t face up to my own peer pressure.

I had the same dream again the next night, and the next, and the next.  Each time I would see a little more and become a little more terrified.  But still, I did not know that this was punishment.

On the fifth night I saw my demise as the nerdy girl.  I could not take the pain, the disdainful glares.  I could not take the pressure of being the best.  I didn’t care that I was smart or that my best friend praised me.  I could not handle the pressures of society.  In my dream, I took eight pills.  In reality, I woke up with tears on my face and heart that was beating much too loud.

“Did it hurt?”

I turned and found myself facing that guy.  Only he wasn’t dressed as a nerd, he was dressed as I know him now in that inhuman cloak with pale eyes and dark hair.  There was a strange look on his face that really scared me.  It was sadistic and sly.  He just sat on my dresser with one knee up, an arm draped over it with pawn in his hand.  He twirled the piece with his slim fingers as his pale eyes glared at me.

I was terrified and so I screamed.

By the time my family came up I was already in hysterics.  The next day, I discovered that everyone was on high intruder alert.  I was still shaken but by the end of the day, with my family and friends to support me, I was able to become that hard super popular girl that I always was.  I spent the weekend with my boyfriend and felt beautiful because of him.  But on the dreams didn’t stop.  They got worse.

And I got worse.  I couldn’t sleep any more.  Instead, I saw the images.  Now that I had seen the fate of that girl, I watched sadness of another person.  And as each week passed, I watched and experienced more souls losing themselves in sadness.  It wrenched my heart so badly, I didn’t know if I could cry.

The painful sadness that each person went through became my sadness.  As I lived each life, I took on a burden more than my heart could hold.  The weight crushed me from the beginning, terrifying the cold person I pretended to be.  Was this his plan?

I didn’t know.  So I looked for him.  I found him at school in that disguise.  I found him so normal with green eyes I couldn’t believe that he was the same as the guy who intruded into my room.

I demanded to know what was happening to me.  He said, “Is something happening to you?”

I said yes, and asked him again.  He looked at me, with the same kind of glare that the guy who’d intruded my room used and said, “What gives you the impression that I would know anything?  I’m an eyesore and a waste of space remember?”

He left in such a breath coolness I was stunned.  Being as tired as I was, I didn’t realise what I was feeling or seeing or even beginning to understand.

I didn’t come across his path for weeks.  The only sign that he acknowledged my problem was the chess piece he left on my desk.  A pawn and a letter wrapped in red silk.

The letter inside only had three sentences.  A date.  A time.  A place.  I shivered at the thought that he could intrude on my room.  I felt violated and scared.  That night I slept with my chests of drawers pushed against the door and double locked my windows.

On the day stated in that letter I met my enemy in the park near my house, just as it said.  It was a windy day, so my coat was blown about the wind, my scarf got in my face and my skirt would not stay down.

“So you came.”

“So I came.  Who the hell are you?”  I demanded.  At that point in my life I still had my fire.  I hadn’t lost it yet.  I had a boyfriend, so looking at the handsome scary guy before me, wasn’t difficult.  I was more afraid that he’d hurt me than I was that he would hit on me.  Even so…

“Don’t think I’ll like you.  You’ve caused more harm than the harshest person,” he said.  How did he know what I was thinking?

“Whatever.  What the hell is up with the dreams, and who the hell are you?”

And he said looking right at me.  He said, “Punishment.”

“P-punishment?  What for?”

“Take a guess.”  He handed me another letter wrapped in silk.  “When you know why, read this.  Until then, the dreams will keep coming.”

He left after that.  That letter stood on my bedside for many weeks and months as I suffered through the dreams. It was no different to the other one in size and shape, but this one had a set of scales on the back and my name embossed on the front.

I tried to pretend I was not suffering, but the sadness from my dreams, and my lack of sleep became a part of my life.  One reality seeped into the other, and the other became my unreality.  I lost sleep because I was too afraid to feel that unbearable sadness.  Because I was so tired all the time, I ended up refusing invitations left and right.  I didn’t even see my boyfriend, because I’d started falling asleep around him.  In six months, everything I’d worked hard for fell away, and I found myself on the other side of an impenetrable wall.

It was then I was beginning to understand what I’d feared.

When it was clear I was no longer popular, no longer proud of myself, no longer surrounded by my friends and boyfriend, I opened the letter.

You should feel alone by now.  There is no other reason for why you chose to open this letter.  Perhaps even now you feel the sadness experienced by others. This is your punishment.  One thousand nights of sadness. You must live each life through your dreams.  You must experience the pain, until you understand.  Ero is your punisher. 

I had not seen him since the day he handed me that letter.  When I realised that the dreams were my punishment, I convinced mum and dad to transfer me to another school.

When I look over it now, I realised how futile it was to even think about transferring schools.  Since then I had transferred three more times.  Each time for one reason worse than another.  The first because of a misunderstanding, the second because my boyfriend was a loser and the third because I was failing all my classes.

Sleeping became a burden, as was anything else I did.  Just moving was a burden.  I started hating everything.  I had no interest in studying.  I had no interest in making friends.  It all became a burden.

I tried hard to ignore the dreams.  But when I didn’t sleep, I spent more days dwelling inside the person in my dreams.  When I did sleep, the sadness of that person disappeared quickly.  For the first couple of years the dreams were a burden, they still are, but now I sleep longer to see these lives.

As for Ero, he turned up at my second transfer.  I had seen him nerdy and humble.  I had seen him stalker-scary.  But that time he was angry.  I received a silk wrapped envelope in my locker.  A locker I had only just opened.

He waited for me out front, not even dressed in the school uniform.  He asked me why I was there.  He asked me about the dreams.  And then looking at my weary face, he asked how I was.

I ignored him and returned to class.  I didn’t see him until now.  But this time he stalked into my classroom and demanded what I was doing.  My only response was, “get away from me.”

My dream this night was different.  It was a new girl.  She was sad all the time.  She was popular.  She had friends and she had a boyfriend.  She was like the fourteen year old me.  But she was sad.  At home her family was not all happy smiles. Her mother worked all the time and her brother was closed off.

Unlike me.  She suffered on her own.  No one could get to her.  She held her troubles in her a heart wrapped in barbed wire.  And because of that she was losing hope fast.

I wake shivering, not sure how this could scare me.  I had seen so many dreams now.  Since I’d moved here to this frigid little town, it was so easy to be isolated.  Since I didn’t care for friends, I didn’t bother trying to be friendly anymore.  But that recent dream made me wary.

I pulled a jumper over my camo and shorts and headed outside.  It had become the norm for me to work of the sadness from the dreams.  It was dark and scary but I didn’t plan to go far from home.  I guess being alone meant I didn’t care anymore.

Looking left and right, I shivered again at the empty stillness, and then started jogging.  Because I didn’t care, I ran faster to shake the burden away.  My breath was a huff of mist in the darkness.  My shadow just a passing human shape under the circles of light.  I was an enigma in the darkness.  Running to escape, running to feel free.  It was cold.

I shivered again oblivious to my surroundings.  There was nothing left in me to feel anymore.  I felt numb.

“What the hell do you thinking your doing?”  The voice that was colder than how I felt sliced through me, knocking me off balance.  It had been unexpected.  I tripped and tumbled to the ground.  Darkness swathed me.

“Don’t touch me.”  I evaded his helping hands.  What, he wanted to help his punishee?  I stood up, shaking, not just from the numb cold I’d relished in before, but because a sharp pain shot up my leg.

A gust knocked me off my feet.  I swore, but this time I could not evade his arms.  Dark clothed swathed me again, capturing me in its grasp.  “Don’t be stupid.”

He dumped me on the low wall began wrapping my ankle with strips from his cloak.  I shivered.  My anger began to rise.  I didn’t need help.  I was fine on my own.  I had been fine one my own these last few years anyway.  I pushed him away and tied the bandage myself, my cheeks flushing hot red in embarrassment.

“What are you doing here anyway?  I never see you.  So don’t expect me to be nice when you turn up after such a long time!”

I jerked my shoes on and stood up again, ready to leave.  I couldn’t stop feeling agitated.  This guy—!  This person who had taken away my life, replaced my dreams to punish me should not be caring about me at all.

“Just go away.  I’ve only two hundred days left.  Two hundred and these dreams will stop.”

If ever there was a faster escape route, I wish someone had told me.  No sooner had I taken a step in the other direction, I was jerked back.  My first urge was to scream, but a hand covered my mouth.

“Do you really think once the two hundred days are over, you will be free?”  He said.  I shivered again, but I should be scared, so why wasn’t I?  “I have to keep looking for you.  By the time I find you, you always disappear again.  This is what I wanted to tell you.  Your punishment is not for being self-centred and childish.  It is not because you hurt others to be popular.  It is because you forgot who you were.  You lost yourself and hurt others because of it.”

What—?

“You’re supposed to find yourself before your days are up.  That’s your punishment.”

He left in a wisp of darkness, as though he hadn’t even been there.

I dreamt again of that girl.  Her sorrow far more a burden than the night before.  But still she kept moving forward.  As her, I pushed through the happy façade, being perfect for everyone.  Her boyfriend kissed her, her friends hugged and cheered her, and her teachers loved her.  All the while her heart bled on the inside.  But even though she was suffering, she kept going.

She had a hundred plans in her head that kept the sorrow company.  I didn’t understand her dual heart.  I didn’t understand how her sorrow could support her determination.  Shouldn’t a sorrowful person be under such a weight that they couldn’t bear the burden anymore?

Class was boring.  I didn’t expect anyone to talk to me.  But when I walked into the canteen, I was surprised.

Sitting in the centre of the room was Ero.  He looked to me, the same as usual.  His natural form was frightening, yet handsome, with those pale eyes.  If his eyes weren’t pale, he would be less frightening.  But yet, girls flocked him.  A group of them stood about him, giggling and chatting.  He seemed so at ease, with that careless return smile.

So why was I unnerved?

“The new guy is quiet hot isn’t he?”  Startled I turned around to see a girl from my class standing next to me.

“What are you talking about?”  I asked, honestly surprised.

“You serious?”  She said looking at me as though I had a four heads.  “Those smoky green eyes, excellent bone structure, manly body and amazing mop of dark hair.  Not to mention that mysterious aura around him.  If that doesn’t make a guy hot then I don’t know what.”

They didn’t see the real him.  Why was that?  Startled I turned back to find him staring back at me.  I was the only one who can.  And now he was more popular than me.

What the hell?  Why was I suddenly feeling like I needed to be elsewhere?  Why was I suddenly feeling that the room was too small?

“Hey are you okay?”

I turned to her, now she was concerned?  “Fine.”

She frowned.  “Are you his girlfriend?  I mean I did see you with him this morning.”

“No.  I’m not.”  I turned and left.

“Idiot.  So now you’re in my school!  I won’t forgive you!”  I said walking briskly down the hall.  I shoved people out of the way, not caring where the hell I was going.  I should have been more careful.

“Watch where you’re going weirdo.”  I froze.  I’d forgotten the popular people.

I mad to retort back, but, instead just looked at the beautiful girl.  Then I walked away.  And I listened to the laughter that echoed through the corridor.  Laughter that once upon a time had been mine.  Though, maybe I wouldn’t have used the word ‘weirdo’, maybe my words would have been stronger.

Was this a part of the punishment as well?

My shoes clipped down the corridor, marking my presence.  This was not what I wanted.  I wanted to be left alone as I had been for the last two years and a bit.  I wanted to suffer alone.  Was that so hard to ask for?  Was that not my punishment?

I slammed the door of my classroom open.  My breathing hard as my shoes slipped on the linoleum.  I dumped my books and lunch onto my desk and dropped my head into my hands.  I felt sick.  First the dream with its unusual aura, and aura that meant I had no idea where it was going to go.  Second, my punisher, dream master turns after such a long absence.  And third, instead of disappearing, he has also enrolled in my school as a student.  What the hell?

She started reading pamphlets.  University brochures.  Her eyes took in the various courses they listed.  She was curious.  Despite being in her mind, I didn’t quite know what she was thinking.  Most of the lives I’ve lived, drowned in their sorrow.  Some drowned in the liquid of sorrow, others fell to liquid to remove their sorrow.

But she did not do either.  She kept pushing forward.  Why?  Why didn’t she just give up, her heart was already divided.  But she just kept flipping through those booklets, her eyes, my eyes, full of enthusiasm, sometimes bordering annoyance, but enthusiasm all the same.

Really?  That’s ridiculo—

Wake up!”  My eyes flew open.  What the hell is he doing in my classroom?

“Don’t hiss at me!”  I slammed my palms on the table and shoved myself as far away from him as possible.  I was used to those pale eyes now.  In two years I had gotten used to it.  Because I had changed as well.  Gone were those mini skirts and low cut tops.  Gone were those long tresses.  Gone was that attitude.  Replaced now were a cropped do and clothes that said ‘go away’.  Change.  I am one of many people.  No one will care.

“Why are you here?  Why are you a student?  In one hundred and ninety-eight more days and I don’t need to see you ever again!”

“Do you really think so?”

His hand rested on the table, fingers spread.  Dangerous.  He watched me warily.  “I told you before, it’s not just one hundred and ninety-eight more days.  Did you forget?”

In the end it didn’t matter how much I hated him, or how much I resented his presence, what he said, that held the value.

I sat back in my chair and fist my hands on my knees.  “No.  I didn’t forget.”

Once I would not have admitted that.  I would have feigned disdained and told him to go away.  I had started getting tired a long time ago, but now I was really tired.  If I had to find myself before the days were up, I wasn’t sure if I could.  How I am now, isn’t that who I was?

“So go away, leave me alone.”

When did he leave, I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.  But that infuriating heart in my chest wouldn’t stop pounding.  I wonder why.

What was her secret that made her sad?  Why had she stopped looking at the brochures?  What happened in the time between yesterday and today?  Why was she lying on her bed with her sorrow leaking out?  Where had that determination gone?  Then I saw the letter on the bed beside her.

A letter of condolence?  Who died?

I watched as she picked herself up, her body leaden with that heavy grief.  The tears on her cheeks.

When I looked around the room, it took me a moment to realise this was not her room.  This was her brother’s room.  I studied the awards all over the walls.  I looked at the books on the table and the neatly organised wardrobe.  Her brother was no slacker.

He had been so close to obtaining a goal that would have been improbable for someone at his age, he had the expectations of everyone.

I woke up early and jogged before going to school.  It was supposed to clear my head but I could think of nothing but that girl.  She wasn’t just sad, she was guilty!  Before she had been sad and lonely, now she was guilty?  What the hell?  I didn’t understand.  Where had this guilt come from?  From my experience it was from being the sibling alive.  But what did that mean?  What happened?

I slammed my locker shut with an unexpected force.  Murmurs rippled behind me but I ignored them anyway.  As I turned, I found myself in the presence of something unpleasant.

“You need my help,” he said.

“I don’t.”

I walked away.  All day, he and she were in my head.  Why did he want to help?  Why did she lose her way? Why? Why? Why?

“She wanted to support her parents first.  That’s why she was lonely.  That’s why she worked hard.  She was sad because she was always alone.  But she worked hard to go to a better school so that she wouldn’t disappoint her family.  But even though she’s guilty, she’s guilty because she thinks she’s not trying hard enough.  She thinks to some extent that she is the reason for his death.  But it is unreasonable.  She knows that too, but at this moment, her determination, where her rationality lies, is failing.  Why?”  I asked myself.

“Why don’t you try sleeping?”

I spun around.  “What do you want?  I thought I told you to go away.”

Even in broad daylight it still seemed like he was caring the world’s darkness on his back.  It didn’t matter how casually he leaned against the railing or how tough he seemed with his arms across his chest, he was still an enigma beyond normal.

“I can’t go away.  Not now.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”  My head throbbed, and my eyes blurred in a moment making me feel light headed.  “You’re like a migraine!”

“But they always go away.”

“What?”

“Migraine’s.  Dealt with properly, they always go away in the end.”

“Yeah! After a long period of pain!  Which is what you are—a pain!”  Ugh!  My head ached badly.

There was silence after that.  An awkward heavy silence that was only filled in by the sound of a gust of wind that blew between us as we stood on the roof of my house.

He brushed his hair out of his face.  “I’m sorry for being a pain.  But I need to tell you.  Will you listen?”

“I will listen.”

“You do not have to continue the nights.  If you understand yourself before the deadline, then you will be free of the punishment.  But if you can’t understand yourself before the deadline, then you will forever live with the sorrow of not knowing.  I’m telling you this, because you are very close to the end now.  So close, I think you might fail.”

“What?”

If what I understood of Ero’s conversation was correct then I could be free of this sorrow soon.  But if I were to be free of the sorrow it meant that I was not happy with the way I am now and that I was actually someone better.

Ero had said that it was easy for me to break the punishment.  He had said that I had accepted my punishment a long time ago.  My problem was that I had grown comfortable with these dreams.  This problem I was facing now, this dream I was seeing, I knew the answer.  I knew what it was telling me, but as Ero said, I was pushing the answer away.

“It’s too close to the truth, isn’t it?”  He’d said.  And he hadn’t said it with a smirk or sneer.  It was as though he knew.

She was at last standing at her desk with books in her arm.  She didn’t look sad anymore.  Instead she looked determined.  The lines of a young girl were gone, and the birth of a more mature woman stared back at me.

As I watched, I looked at the pile of books in her arms.  They were the brochures from before.

“ANI where are you?”  Her mother shouted from downstairs.  She was leaving.

“Coming mum!”  She shouted.  Then back to the window she said, “I love brother.  I always will.  I was guilty.”

She looked down at her book.  “I won’t ever say I’m not guilty but I can’t forget it.”

She moved around the room.  “All your memories are here.  How hard you worked, how much you did to protect mum and me.  Everything.  I know it all now.  I was sad when you were never at home, when mum was never at home, but I knew you were working hard.  So I worked hard.  But then you died.”

Tears started pouring down her cheeks again, whether she wanted it or not.  “And I was lost.  I couldn’t do anything anymore.  Those people I used to help my appearance?  My boyfriend, my friends, did you know they really cared about me?  Did you know?  I think you did, because they showed me you, they showed me what I refused to see.  I miss you, but I’ll work harder.  I’ll make you proud.  I love you brother.”

I watched as she turned and walked out the room, her hand grazing a photo on the wall beside the door.  As she did, she whispered, “Goodbye brother.”

I was stunned.  What had happened?

“She found a purpose.”

I jumped startled at the sound of Ero’s voice.  “What are you doing in my dream?”  I asked turning to face him.

He looked different.  His eyes weren’t white, but green, and he was wearing plain plaids.  While still good looking, he also looked human.

Looking into my eyes he said the strangest thing.  “Even a dream master has dreams.”

But even as I was looking at him, I was drawn to a photo perched on the wall behind him.  I pushed past him.  What?

He didn’t seem to be aware of it.  He was still staring at the place where she once stood.

When I woke, I was on the ground of my rooftop, and the dream master was beside me.  Strangely enough, I didn’t feel sad.  I watched my dream master wake.  It was slow, because he was still sleeping so peacefully.  I wondered if he would wake soon.

I felt calm for someone who had discovered something immense.  Was this what my punishment led to?  But why?

“Is this what happens if you don’t succeed in one thousand nights?”

He opened his eyes slowly.  I nearly jumped in surprise as they were revealed.  Why were they green now?

“Yes.  You become a slave to her.  You work until someone can free you.  But it’s not all terrible.  If you succeed, you free yourself from the fear.”

“Are you alive?”  I asked him.

He rolled on his stomach.  “No.  I think you know that.”

“So the ultimate punishment is death.”

“No.”

He looked at me.  It was unnerving that he was no longer paled eyed.  But all the same.  It didn’t matter to me if he still had his pale eyes.

“Death was better than living.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“You do.”

He stood.  I stood after him.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”  I demanded.

“If you didn’t then tonight you’d dream those dreams again.  But you do, so you won’t.  Now you can live your life the way you want to.  Live it your way.”

He didn’t make much sense, but I think I understood.

“Where are you going now?”  I asked.

He just smiled and looked up to the sky. “I’m going home.”

The Dream.

It crawls into that dark and empty space.  It wraps its gnarly claws around me.  Grabbing me, suffocating me.  It is the colours of the night; colours of the day.  It blinds, weeps, scares it away.  This dream it holds me, cherishes me, frightens me.  Nothing to it though; in the end, it’s a dream.

Satellite.

Satellites revolve around the earth, forever in a constant cycle.  Everyday they pass around us; tiny stars that move above us.  They live so far away from the stars, but they are so close.  I watched them with my arms around my little brother.  He was my only family.

I whispered, “You are my satellite.”

The reason why.

He gazed down at the flowers and the photos that were wrapped around the pole.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”  The mother of one of the lost teens stood there.

Protest! But it was that kind of rash action that had done this.  The bouquet fell as he limped away, remorseful.

Party! Water. Fruit Juice.

It was hot.  Den lay back on the banana chair, the sun beating down on her exposed skin.  When she opened her eyes, the air shimmered around her.  She could hear her friend laughing in the pool, splashing water over Den’s bikini covered body.  She breathed and felt pale as she lay there.  The heat wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, and yet she didn’t feel the kind of suffocating feeling she normally felt when she was in the heat.

“Den!”  Emily squealed from the water.  “Get in here you sexy beast!”

Den groaned but ignored her.  Emily liked the water.  Den didn’t.  She could stand the heat, but she couldn’t stand the water.  Water was the one thing she was so damn afraid of and Emily still couldn’t understand that.  Okay, that was probably an exaggeration.  Emily understood, and believed Den, when she says, she has tried to stop Emily from trying as hard as she does to help Den get over her fear.  But Den’s fear came from her childhood.  It came from the time when the little kid who had it in for Den squashed Den in the water in a game of water polo.

Den at ten was a decent player.  Den at ten was not afraid of the water.  Den at ten was well, shy.  Den at sixteen though had not played water polo since.  Den at sixteen was very aware of her unreasonable fear of water.  Den at sixteen was not shy.

“Den!”  Squealed Emily again louder this time.  Den would have sworn the whole was alert to her voice.

“Yeah Den, get in the water!”  Roared the guys with Emily.

“Like hell,” she said in reply sitting up shoving her sunnies up her nose.  “You know I’m scared shitless Em, so don’t make me.”

Emily rolled her eyes.  Her ash brown hair was dyed black with water.  Like Den she sported a bikini, but unlike Den, Em wore bikini bottoms over short board shorts.  And oh right, Em was curvy.  Den was not.

After lying in the sun for at least half-an-hour, Den knew she was browner than brown.  She didn’t care.  She looked at the two guys in the pool.  Yeah, one was Jakson, Emily’s latest obsession and the other was Robbie.  Apparently Den’s obsession.

Emily sighed and looked at Den.  It was her pool, her house, her banana chair after all.  Den was just her security.  Em’s parents didn’t know Jakson and Robbie were coming over.   They only knew that Den was.

“Ugh, whatever Emily.  You have juice in the fridge right?”  Emily didn’t even have to say yes because Den knew there was.  There always was.  Den and Emily were not just friends because they covered each other’s asses, but because they knew each other inside out.

And Emily knew why Den was so afraid of the water.

Den got up off the chair and stretched showing off her flat stomach.  There was no point not wasting this perfect opportunity.  But, then again, as Den pretended not to be interested in Robbie or Jakson or Emily floating there in the water, she turned to head inside the house.

Emily had the kind of sweet house that shouted, ‘I’m rich!’  Which Emily was even though Den was not; it was probably another reason why their friendship was so perfect.  Emily had learnt a long time ago just how smart Den was.  They became friends in year seven when Emily was getting total shit from her parents about her lack of attention to her schoolwork.  And well, Den was getting absolute praise.

Den of course felt sorry for little old Emily suffering under the pressure of too-much-work-syndrome and offered to help out.  Emily though languid and fluid, such a hippie, and definitely not planning to change anytime soon agreed.  She soon learnt though that Den was not an easy tutor.

Over the years they worked out a suitable schedule of tutoring and partying.  Emily handled the parties and Den made sure they passed with outstanding grades.  Well Den was outstanding, Emily was decent, decent being the state of her results were high enough to approve of Den being her friend, and yet lower than Den and not quite genius-level.  So think C to B to A (a grade Emily received on occasion).

Emily proved to be a quick learner, but only when she applied herself, which made Den’s job quite easy, except when Emily was distracted.  Such as when Jakson came up to their study table, and then slowly the others filtered in and well, the study table was no longer a study table, but a social table.  That’s when Den would organise an after class tute and they  would study at Emily’s house.  The best part for Den, who needed the good grades, was that helping Emily meant she was also helping herself.

Unfortunately though this was the first year Emily had one class different to Den, which meant Emily had to study on her own.  The fortunate part of the unfortunate-fortunate equation was that Emily was excellent at her design subject.

“Oh Den, you’re such a downer…” Den heard Emily call after her as she laughed.

“That’s why we’re friends babe!”  Den called back.

Inside her skin felt overheated in the cool air-conditioning.  She was willing to swear that her skin was retracting into itself.  She swore internally and told herself that she shouldn’t have stayed in the sun for so long.

Her feet padded against the cool tiled hallway.  Den always envied Emily for having as much money as she did.  But always afterwards, she was kind of grateful that she was poor.  It meant she could appreciate things more.  She sighed touching the fridge panel.  It opened with perfectly oiled ease.  She sighed again and pulled out the juice.

She knew this house as well as she knew Emily.  Outside she knew Emily was still flirting her ass off with Robbie and Jakson.  It was the kind of person Emily was.  Emily would make Jakson jealous by flirting like the fire in hell with Robbie, and poor Robbie, unless he figured it out early would be entranced.

These guys, well, they’re kind of special to Emily and Den.  Three weeks ago Emily for once was having a hard time dealing with her parents’ very loud and very public divorce.  Den was there by her side, but she felt useless, since, well, Den was hopeless at such thing as comforting.

As for why this has anything to do with Jakson, or even Robbie, it’s because when Emily finally cracked under the pressure of her parents hate for each other, she had told Den to get dressed.  They were going to a party.

It wasn’t their usual kind of upper-class party, but a more normal person party.  It was rowdy, beer aplenty, and practically an orgy.  The only person either of them knew was Robbie.  And they only knew Robbie because he made it a fact that even though he was slumming his way through highschool, he was practically Den’s only rival.  Not that Den minded.  She liked the fact that she had a rival.

Like Den, Robbie was Asian.  Unlike Den though, he was only half.  So he was kind of perfect in every way.  Half the time, Den was jealous of his well, clear skin, and nicely done, slacker hair, and the perfect, shining white teeth.

Jakson was kind of the same, only non-Asian, tanned Caucasian with shorter, kind of curly dark brown hair and the sexiest, bluest eyes Den had ever seen.

In the event of the party, Emily was drunk before she took more than ten steps into the door and Den was desperately telling Emily this was a super bad idea.  Den often frequented such parties, they were her crowd after all, and normally she didn’t tow Emily along because she knew Emily would be waylaid by some jerk or other from school.  Unfortunately though, several of her sport buddies swamped her and Den lost sight of her drunk friend.

Annoyed she had pushed her way through the crowd of convulsing bodies.  She even parted a pair of suckling pigs, probably too drunk to kiss properly.  It wasn’t a big house so Den shouldn’t have had such a hard time finding Emily, but that night it was as though she had completely disappeared.  Den began freaking out, but not before she ran into Robbie, looking as good as ever in jeans and a white shirt.  He was a bit taller than her, tall enough that if she ever decided to don those killer-worthy heels she had in her wardrobe at home, he would still be taller than her.

He’d looked so concerned, she was touched.  But she wouldn’t have him thinking she was a dope for losing Emily, and he didn’t.  It was perhaps the one moment Den had actually she was actually in love him.  Always he had been her crush, but always she was afraid to push the boundaries of their friendship, especially when it was so fragile.

All friendships were.  Den only had a few friends she called her own.  The rest she kind of borrowed from Emily, or were mere acquaintances she rarely bothered to catch up with.  So she cherished the few she had.

But Robbie hadn’t called her a dope.  Instead he offered to help, only concern in his eyes not ‘you lost a friend, and she was drunk?  Are you crazy?!’ kind of look, to which she was thankful.

He looked with her.  And she didn’t mind that she spent the night looking for Emily.  Most of the times when she graced these parties with her presence it was because she wanted to see Robbie.  She rarely drank and she rarely randomly made out with the first person she met.  So looking with Robbie for Emily was perhaps the best night of her life.

They eventually found Emily though.  She was vomiting in the bathroom with Jakson at her side looking just as concerned as Robbie.  It was kind of sweet.

Emily though, woke up with a massive hang over.  Den had stayed over to make sure her parents didn’t know about her binge, and that they didn’t accidentally walk in on her looking like she did.

Den remembered the way her face when all pink when she walked into the school on Monday and Jakson asked her if she was okay.  Den had never actually ever seen Emily look so embarrassed.  In fact Emily rarely felt embarrassed.

And she asked her.

Emily admitted to her in the confines of an empty bathroom that she wished that she hadn’t gotten so drunk.  She was embarrassed because for most of their schooling years she’d ignored Jakson, and on that Saturday, she was pretty sure she had spilled the details of her parents’ divorce and her own misery to him.  She’d only done so because, as she deemed to justify her actions, because after she lost Den, she got waylaid but one of the stoners and she couldn’t get away.

It was then Den realised her best friend had a crush on Jakson.  The problem with Jakson was this.  He wasn’t a golden boy.  He wasn’t what her parents would agree on.  And yet he walked the same circles as Robbie and the nerds as well as the slackers.  He was also a worker than the ‘can’t shut up’ guy he presents.

Emily kept to the golden boys.  She always had.  But she’d dumped her last boyfriend months ago.  Den didn’t date because of well, you know.  But Den was always supportive of Emily.

Since that fateful night, Emily had tried to get her game back.  Only problem was that Jakson didn’t take the bait.  Jakson did not like to be messed with.  And up until today, he hadn’t wanted to be messed with the golden crew, one of which Den was hesitantly stepping in and out of.  If Den and Emily were to ever have a fight, then Den would be officially kicked out.

Not that she cared.  She only cared about Emily.

And because she cared about Emily, she had sucked up her courage and recruited Robbie’s help.  Even if said person was now swimming in a pool with Emily, flirting with Emily, all to make Jakson jealous.  Maybe Den should have just kissed Jakson so that Robbie knew just what she was willing to do.  But no, Emily wouldn’t like that.  At least, Den comforted herself with this minor thought, it’s only flirting.

Den had thought that Robbie would sit with her and talk with her today rather than go along with Emily’s plan.  But she wasn’t surprised, they weren’t at school and they were by a pool she refused to get in.

“Hey.”  Den spun around, nearly knocking the glass she’d just put on the table to the ground.

“Robbie.”  She cleared her throat.  Her voice had jumped an octave unexpectedly.  “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged first, then said, as though he’d changed his mind at the last minute, “Juice?”

Den had the urge to laugh.  “Sure.”

She poured him a glass and gave it to him.  “It’s fruit.”

“Duh.”

She put the bottle back and back against the bench.   Robbie just stood where he was, his towel tossed over his shoulders and sipped meekly at his juice.

Den had the silence.  Actually when she realised the silence she looked towards the door.

“What happened with—?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe they’re talking.”

More silence.  In class, they were never this silent, so why was it awkward now?

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Den wrapped an arm around her stomach.  They sipped their juice meekly while Den looked elsewhere.  The clink of a glass on the bench broke the silence.

“So did you do your assignments?”

“Why are you so afraid of the water?”

More silence.  Den gestured for him to continue.  Although why he would ask now, when he could have asked before was beyond her.

He cleared his throat.  “So, why are you so afraid of the water?”

No condescension, just curiosity.  She sighed and sucked in her breath looking at him.

She told him.

Outside the squeals began again.  When she told him why he just nodded his head and seeing the fear in her eyes (which was so chicken, honestly, pathetic), he walked over and gave her a surprise hug.

For Den being trapped under the water had terrified her.  She remembered the suffocating feeling of the weight above her straining her lungs to work harder.  She remembered the horrid feeling of not being able to breathe, knowing full well if she did, she would breathe only water.  And that was a gift only a mermaid or fish possessed.

For weeks though, Robbie and Den had worked together to bring Jakson and Emily together.  But never in those weeks since had den ever felt that Robbie could ever like her back like she felt now.

“Den?”

“Yeah?”  She said from her place next his heart.  She was having a really girly moment now.  She couldn’t believe she was hugging Robbie in a heart-to-heart kind of way, and not a ‘we’re friends, quick hug’ kind of way.

She looked up and saw the huge red blush across his cheeks.  He didn’t look incredibly perfect at the point.  In fact he looked liked the kind of guy she would date.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Den couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Nothing.”

“W-Well, um, do you want to go out with me?”

He could not look her in the eye.  And she could not hide the pleasure/ embarrassment either.  “Robbie.”  She touched his chin.

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.”

He did, but she could feel he was trying to avoid looking right at her.  She understood his hesitation.  What if she said no?

“Are you asking me to go out with you as a girl you want to date or as a friend?”

He looked blatantly shocked for a moment as though he couldn’t comprehend how Den could misunderstand his intentions.

“Den!”  His eyes were wide and he looked freaked.

“What?”  She asked as though her question was undignified.

“How could you think—?  Den!”  He did something completely unexpected then.  He kissed her.  Catching her offguard.  At first she was shocked, her mind still putting together logic and action before she let herself be swallowed by the pleasantness of the kiss.

“Oh. My.  God.  Finally!”  Emily’s squeal pushed Robbie and Den apart.  Though it didn’t stop the blushes creeping up their cheeks.

Emily and Jakson were standing in the kitchen both dripping wet.

“So, about Saturday?”  Robbie said not looking at the interrupters, and only looking at Den.

“Yes.  My answer is yes.”  And for once Den was blushing like no tomorrow.

“Yay!  Now for the pool!”  Emily said grabbing Jakson by the arm and heading back out.

“No way!”  Den yelled back.  “There is no way in hell I’m getting in that pool!”

Outside she took her seat as before, only this time Robbie sat next to her.  She smiled and let his hand take hers.

“I felt bad about not sitting here before.”

“It was for Emily,” Den said in return.  They watched and laughed together as Emily continuously flirted with Jakson who was at last getting into a reasonably comfortable zone with her.

At the way they wrestled in the water, Den wondered exactly what had gone on when she’d been drinking fruit juice.

Going.

She stood by the door.  The yelling and the anger tensed the atmosphere.  She felt afraid.  More afraid than she was alone.  Her hand touched the doorknob and she looked outside.

Then there was silence.  Cold, hard silence.  She shudder.  They’d stopped for now.  She pulled her hand away and said, “Next time I’ll go.”

Choice.

“You wanna join us?  Take the stupid gun!”  He yelled at him.  The gun was in his hand.  He had taken, but it wasn’t taking that the guy wanted it.  It was the act that came with taking.  He weighed the options in his hand.  Then he put it back, ducking for cover.  “Kill him!”

Fate.

In my mind I see things, hear things, think things; things that aren’t real, great or spectacularly life inspiring.  But they’re there.  Telling me, whispering to me, sneaking into my mind.

I stumble to the stairs, cold and metallic, they clang beneath my heavy boots.  My head throbs.  Ba-dum.  Ba-dum.  BA-dum!

I climb with my hands and knees, feeling for the next step to haul myself up.  I’m blinded by the sight that I cannot see.  I’m blinded by what my brain tells me.

The vision has always followed me.  It has always preceded me.  I wondered  had all those who’d died had known whether they were going to do it?

Death follows me.  He shadows me as I walk, as I crawl, as I climb.  He knows my fate. Perhaps he has known it for years.

Destiny finds me too.  But unlike Death, Destiny does not stay.  Destiny comes and goes, straying to my right shoulder while Death waits by my left.  They are patient and unassuming but they wait, reminding me all the time exactly how much of my fate they already know.

I shove the heavy rooftop door open.  It weighs more than the world and the burden on my shoulders.

The night is cold against my skin.  The sound of silence but howls in my ears.  What have I left but than to edge my way slowly over to the top of the summit?

Death hovers by my side as I find my way up the roof.  I look for handholds and footholds.  The tiles were gritty against my calloused hands.

Halfway up I stopped and turned.  Breathing, my breath fogging up the night, the cityscape stretched all around me.  My eyes looked down.  Only a hill as high as the one my house sat on could show me this unbelievable sight.

“Why do you want me to climb the roof?”  I ask to no one in particular.  Death never spoke, but Death could hear.

And like always Death was quiet.  Death and Destiny never interfered.  Death and Destiny stood aside to watch.

I looked at the short bit of roof I still had to climb.  It wasn’t far.  But it wasn’t like I climbed roofs for a living.  I breathed again.  My breath surrounding me like a cloud.

“It is my destiny isn’t it?”  I asked.

The silence from Death was all that surrounded me.

Fate had led me here.  Fate had always been leading me.  Fate took me to school to watch my peers.

The visions didn’t show me my future.  Even though at first, I always thought it was mine.

But I see her now, standing on top of my roof.  My younger sister, thirteen.  It was her in the visions.  Not me.

And now Death walked beside me, Death and Destiny.  Fate followed behind me.  He watched broodingly, because he was Fate and he knew what my sister didn’t.  He knew, as did Death and Destiny what I will find.

I hauled myself over the apex and sat down uncomfortably.

“Rela, don’t.”  I breathed hoarsely looking at the slender girl in front of me.

When I’m ready I stand.  I almost feel Death offer a hand of kindness or was it Fate?  But it was a wisp of darkness that brushed faintly over my elbow, that barely supported me at all.

My house is stranger than most.  It has three stories; the fourth sitting at the very top.  It is an attic with an old-fashioned roof.  The rest is metal and highly resembles a maximum security vault.

It was supposed to be safe.  But like everything else in this world, it wasn’t.  I should have known.

I bet others didn’t have this problem, this supernatural calling of the horrid, horrid angels of Destiny, Death and Fate.

They didn’t have the visions I did or the freak headaches I had within my own house.  It was the house, this house.  Why did I live in this house?  Was it the house?

“Rela please.”

“Do you know, it’s like fate put us here.  That this house, the only house in the suburb should be the one with the faulty security.  How does it feel?”  She sounded manic.  I had to stop her.  Rela was my only flesh and blood left.  Mum was gone.  Dad was gone.  But Rela was here.

I cursed this world of fear and oppression.  I cursed their want of power.  Their ability to make us think the way they wanted us to.

“Rela please!”  I lurched forward grabbing her.  She screamed and jerked back throwing me off balance.

“Rela!”  I screeched, feeling my foot slip off the roof.  Her eyes widened as she recaptured her balance.

“Faith!”  Her eyes were wide with absolute horror as she lurched forward to catch me.

But I was already falling away.  Her hand brushed my arm.  But she was too far to grab it.

I fell for the time it took to live a lifetime.

Ba-dum.  Ba-dum.  BA-dum!

I gasped as the ground embraced me, my arms and legs sprawled out in all angles.  There was no pain.  There never would be.

“FAITH!!”  Rela’s strangled cry would fill the air with sorrow.  She was only thirteen.  And now she had a whole lifetime to live.

Fate touched his lips to mine, Death watched with Destiny as Fate pulled my spirit from my body.  Then he pulled away, his hand never straying from my arm.

Fate had never been happy with the outcome because he had known.  The difference being, of the three angels, their wings surrounding them, encasing them, that Fate spoke to me.

It was but a voice in my mind, but I heard it like a whisper even as I looked up at my distraught sister.  The neighbours were already coming.  In my heart Fate whispered to me.

This was your fate…as it was hers, she will be safe…

He was right as I could see.  Our next door neighbour was already taking Rela safely in her arms and taking her away.

Love and War.

All is not fair in love and war.

I knew that when I waited in fear for the letter to come something bad would happen.  War is a devastating period in life.  You cannot avoid the fear that comes.  It comes like a quiet whisper.  Trailing before.  The letter comes in hand says, painfully, “Sorry.”

One Day.

One day can change everything, and change nothing.  One day is the centre of the heart and the heart of the centre.  You cannot change one day if that day has already begun.  That day is done, and done it has been.

Walk.  I walk along the river.

Feel.  I feel the breeze amongst my hair.

Think.  I cannot change a thing.

Life is a bittersweet memory.  I stop and look to the river, its wide expanse stretching beyond the distance that my eyes can see.  I look.  The bridge is not so far.  I walk.  To the bridge to cross the river.

I stop again and knee, expecting with every moment that I will see the birth of ripples spreading over the water caused by the boat of Charon.  But when I look up there is nothing there.  Evidently.

Then I dip my hand into the water.  It’s cool and polluted, but I do it anyway.  I am so small beside the river whether I am sitting, standing, or kneeling on the river edge.   Just like I am but an insignificant being in this vastly populated world.  So what difference would one day make?

I look at the water, it’s dark and murky, unpleasantly unclean.  I have no doubt that it would stain my body and health with its black mark of death.  I watch in silent horror as the surface changes.  It doesn’t reflect the sky and its blueness.  Or the sky and its puffy white clouds I’m so far away from.  Instead it shifts and changes, and morphs into something else.

It is a mirror, a bowl of water, with a crystal in the centre.  It calls to a past I want to forget.  It calls to the days that are insignificant.

I walk to the bus stop and say hi to the girl I call my friend.  She laughs and says hi then pulls me along the bus to the back where all the boys are.  Then she flirts with them while I sit next to here, trying control my blush as I talk to the guy on my other side.

He’s nice.  I like him.  I’ve liked him for a while.  I tell myself I’m not nervous because he’s talking to me.  I tell myself I’m nervous because I’m afraid of what I’ll say.

The bus stops and the idea of class at nine hits me full force.  There’s still forty-five minutes until it starts, Les drags me to the canteen where she stacks up on unhealthy but absolutely delicious breakfast foods before plonking me into a chair with a bunch of rowdy guys.

They roared and punched her in the arm while their hands reached for her food.  I batted them away for her.  Like always.  She was incapable of keeping them out of her food.  When I wasn’t around, she’d end up with nothing but one or two.  And this was why she loved me.  Because I was her wingman, her best friend, her buffer, her food saver.

If we hadn’t been the only two loners in year seven too quirky for the rest of the class, then we’d never be friends.  But I know this is the reason why we were friends in the first place.  Because neither of us could really ever truly be the best friend of someone else.  Nor could we get along too well with a bunch of other girls.  We had our secrets, and we had the reasons why we could not go out like the other girls.  And we bonded in that way, even if we never actually told each other why.

We trusted each other.  Somehow indefinitely, and because of that our fates seemed entwined together.  But I was still me.  I was still the only.  I was still alone.

When class began, I sat in my usual seat beside a random friend.  She chatted unnecessarily about some party or another.   I nodded and smiled, it was customary, familiar, repetitious.

The teacher started speaking then and her talk was drowned out.   Thank god.

I scribbled mercilessly all over my book.  Touché I didn’t actually write anything.  Recess passed like a breeze.  Les buying a chunk of food, and me buffering the hoard of people trying to take her food.  She flirted again.

Maths was the bane of my existence.  Why not?  Since the reason why I was in maths in the first place was because I was egotistic enough to think that I was good enough.  But I couldn’t back out now.  No matter how much I hated it.  The rowdy guys from this morning flooded the seats next to me and around me and badgered me all lesson.  I wasn’t surprised, they needed my help.  So I did my work ahead and helped them in class rather than doing my work.

Too bad, I was such a pushover.

Lunch came and they all dragged me with them even though I might have preferred to find a quiet place, far away, a place that doesn’t exist.

I buffered for Les again.  She was forever always in my favour.

Then the day ended with another class, again, I was doing nothing more than scribbling in my book.  I was too far ahead for the teacher to comprehend.  Too bad.

And when the day ended, I had received more than the norm in invitations to parties, Les looked at me.  I gave her a sad smile and put them in the bin.

The scene disappeared, and the river was once more a river.  It was as it was.  Flowing and fluid.  Liquid darkness that could poison me bit by bit.

I took off my boots and pulled off my socks.

The water was warm.  I pulled off my other boot so that I could stand on the stairs, with my feet in the water.  It seemed to call to me.  It seemed to want me to swim.  The other side of the river wasn’t so far.  It couldn’t possibly be as far as walking to the bridge to cross what I could cross now.

Sacrifice.

He held a gun to her head and his companion held another to the baby, they looked to the kid, “make a choice, boy.”  He had a gun too.  He couldn’t do anything for her or the baby but save them.

“Oh baby, don’t!”

“I’m sorry.” Saddened but determined, he turned the gun on himself.

So Much Pain.

She was in so much pain.  It hurt too much to think.  The arguing didn’t stop.  She tried so hard.  So hard.  And she’d accomplished nothing.  Silence.  All she wanted was silence.  Then nothing could be said.  It would be much safer.  She told herself everything was fine for so long.  Who was she kidding?

Angelo. Angelo Saga Part One.

“Angelo,” she called out into the wilderness.  “Where is my Angelo?”  She was wild with loss.  Her heart was wrenched in two because her Angelo was not there.  “Oh Angelo, where are you?”  She would search high and low until she collapsed in heartbreak.  In the darkness she hears, “I am here.”

“Angelo!”  She cries.