The world is not as beautifal as it seems,

only held up with dreams.

The sky is no longer agleam,

more of just a coal seam.

This is not the place I want to be,

there’s something more out there that can make me free.

What is this new cold, dark valley,

counting the days behind prison bars with a tally?

This is not real,

this is not real.

It’s just a dream,

it’s just a dream.

It had not taken long for Ezmia to find the ring in my pocket. I guess I made it sort of obvious, with the hints I dropped here and there, but I never really knew what to do when she found out.

She gave me that face she always gave me, the one that told me I was stupid. Then all she did was pull me into a hug. "Y-you're engaged?"

Tears filled my eyes, not daring to fall down yet. They were just waiting to leave my soul, but for whatever reason, they didn't.

She pulled away from me and slapped my hand affectionately. "Why didn't you tell me?" She asked. I shrugged. "Had to find the right time to really say anything." I looked down at my feet.

She didn't reply. I looked up and was shocked to see her face darken. "Kandice, this ring... it's doesn't look right."

I grinned, but behind it all I was worried that she was going to find out. "Ezmia, I think you're tired. You're taking this too much to the head."

"No, there's something about the ring." I couldn't stop her. She turneed the ring around, running her finger down words that started to appear.

You will die.

I looked down at the ring. "What is this?" I asked, my eyes widening.

She scowled. "I don't know, you tell me."

I could tell she wasn't very happy. Neither was Dad when he was going to see this.

"Dad won't be happy when he sees this," she said. Typical Ezmia. Reading my thoughts.

I rolled my eyes. "Can you not baby me for once? I know what I'm doing."

"You knew."

I felt like screeching in her ear. Of course I knew my fiancé was a demon!

My eyes knew to tear away at that very moment. It worked on her, because she started to hold back tears herself.

"Why did you do it?" She asked. She already knew the answer.

"You were dying. What do you think I would have done?" I asked her, holding a tinge of fury in my voice.

Silence.

"The demon was the only one who would help me. No one knew how to treat your disease."

She breathes in a heap of air, as if she's grateful for it. She should be.

"You didn't have to marry him," she whispered, as if someone would listen. Really, if everyone were around, they'd be close to dying. No one enters this desert unless they're an outlaw.

"I had to," I said. I waited for her to question me. She shook her head, like none of this was real. In our village, the only reason someone had to be married hadn't happened in thirty years. And to think that it was a demon...

"I'm pregnant. He's the father."

There are many stories out there for you to look at, but today, you have decided to look at this one. Let us turn to the Smithsonian musuem, and paint a picture for you of the setting. There is a man standing in front of a large tank. The label says ‘mermaid,’ but he does not believe or understand what it really means...

The camera is in his clutches, waiting eagerly to be clicked. His fingers only hover over the shutter button, the man looking at the tank for something. He is surprised that no one else is here to see what he is here to look at, but having no one here will make it all better for him.

Nothing comes.

Slowly, he spots a fin. It’s like nothing he has seen before, every single print too beautiful for words. Indeed, it almost suggests that there are words written on the fin. He looks up from the camera to have a better look of the creature, but is stopped by the faint footsteps behind him. They are far enough for him to shove his camera into his satchel. He doesn’t want to be found with it, especially in a place like this.

Now the group of people are close enough for the man to see who they really are. They are men with tattoos covering their arms. They don’t seem like people who should be surveying a museum like this, and the man holds onto his satchel for reassurance.

He nods over to the group, all who ignore him and dispurse like bugs finding honey splattered on the ground. They run every which way, but the biggest of them all walks towards the man. He has a tattoo of a woman prancing around his calf, and another of a mermaid wrapped around his arm. The fin dissapears as he steps in front of the tank.

“A beauty, ain’t she?” The tattooed man said. The man with the camera straightened up, but it didn’t make any difference.

“I haven’t had a chance to really look at her,” he replied. “But I know for sure that the sailor who captured him was despicable to capture such a beautiful thing from the sea. And to think that they’d sell her to the Smithsonian, a mermaid that’s still alive...” by now he was in his own thoughts letting the rest of his statement trail off.

“Well, you’re looking right at him.” The sailor grinned, looking down at the man as if he were some child.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to-”

“Naw, it’s okay. We had to take her into custody, tho’. She was being a havoc, stealing mens’ hearts in the sea. I finally found the courage to take her.”

“I doubt that she was any problem. It was her home, you know.” The man pulls out his camera now, knowing that a sailor like him would not care about such a thing.

“Well, nothing we can do about it now, eh?” The sailor said, nudging the man in a friendly manner. The man didn’t give the same affection, instead looking down at his camera.

“I’ll be leaving then,” the sailor man said. “Take care of yerself for me.”

After a moment of reticence in the exhibition, the mermaid finally peeked out from the shady part of the tank. Skin the shade of seaweed and eyes the color of gold, she held her hand out, palm pressed to the glass.

Tell me your story, the man thought. He knew the mermaid could not hear him, but somehow, somewhere in his head, an instinct told him to say that to himself.

To his surprise, she whispered back.

“Gladly.”

You close your eyes.

The door is open. You know for sure now, because the dim light from outside shines through, reflecting off your thick glasses only you can see through. It makes you uncomfortable to think that this will be your new home for the night, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

There’s a figure. You don’t know who it is, but it’s definetely not Mum. The figure comes closer, eyes bloodshot that even you can see it in the darkness that engulfs you tonight. Your feet are frozen in bed, knowing this new world you’re in is like a shark. One move, and you’ll only be in the iniquity for eternity. You have read enough books and watched enough movies to know that.

You don’t have much time to think. The world sweeps you away, and you’re back in your real bed, in your real home... away from those so-called monsters under your bed.

There is still a feeling that keeps you from moving. Something about home doesn’t seem like it anymore. It might just be your thoughts, but a notion tells you to stay put. Finally, when you know that every single branch outside your window is still, that every single person is asleep, your nerves calm and you sink back into your blanket.

It seems like a few minutes when you wake up again, but when your eyes shoot out and you look at your watch still clinging to your arm, you know it has been three hours since you were last awoken. This time, when you look up at the beast growling at your feet, you know you will never drop back into the pillow and sleep without caution again.

The animal is ghastly, with fur clutching its body, patches with bloody skin. Its teeth are sharp enough even it seems your watch is terrified, rolling down your arm and into your sleeve as you jerk your hands up for protection, knowing it will be no good.

It is when the beast lunges for you, that you open your eyes for real this time.