"It's ok, you don't have to love me," he whispered to me the first time we kissed.

I hadn't loved him, not really, even when he pressed me against the wall and kissed me into tomorrow. I hadn't loved him.

He was handsome, and daring, and cute, and kind, but when he looked at me across the room during class my heart hadn't started to race. When he smiled, my room didn't light up with joy. When we kissed, I didn't want time to stop.

Don't get me wrong, I like--liked him.

When he brough me to visit his parents, I was hesitant. I didn't want him to getting ideas. But, just as he knocked on the door he murmmered into my ear:

"It's ok, you don't have to love me."

I smiled, it was comforting.

"... But I love you," he said, breath hot against my skin.

He must have seen it that night: the widening of my eyes, the stiffness of my jaw. But, that didn't stop him. He kept kissing me. He kept smiling. He kept loving me.

Before we knew it, it was summer again and another year of school was done. He was going abroad to NYC. He offered me the extra plane ticket. I was hesitant, I didn't like New York, or crowded cities, or tall buildings. I liked the blue sky and the endless fields. I declined. He only smiled and promised to call me when the plane landed.

I drove him to the airport, feeling guilty. I was sure that he was mad, despite the smile. So I formed a plan, when he got out of the car I would say it... the words I had been dreading to say to anyone.

Finally we were here. Everything was in slow motion: the opening of my door, the opening of his door, the loving embrace, the lugging of bags upstairs, the elevator, the final kiss, and then...

"I--" the words choked in my mouth. I tried again, "I lo--"

His eyes were wide, the smile gone from his lips.

I swallowed, "I lov--" but the words died again.

I gave him a sorrowful smile, which he returned with a happier smile then I'd ever seen him wear. He pressed his lips to mine, mouth coaxing, and still smiling. He broke apart with a gasp, I couldn't understand. I hadn't been able to.

"It's ok, you don't have to love me."

"But... I--"

"It's ok, you are enough. You don't have to love me."

So, I believed him. I waved him off, marched down the stairs alone, drove home, and watched Netflix. The hours ticked away along with the sun. By the time, the moon had risen I checked my phone. Nothing.

I ignored the hesitance inside my gut. Maybe the flight was delayed? Though, I wanted to be awake when he called, I was getting tired and had plans tomorrow so I fell into a restless sleep.

The morning came too fast.

I checked my phone: nothing. It was unerving. He never forgot to call me, even when he was tired, it was why I adored him. Pushing away the churning of my stomach, I settled onto the couch, flicking on the News.

"Just in... there was a shooting in... New York late last night."

The world froze.

His last words: It's ok, you don't have to love me.

But, I had.

#Imsorry #Sad #death #love #It'sok,youdon'thavetoloveme. #challenge #lovers #kissing #NYC #loving

One word: mosquitoes.

Just... why?

Do they have a purpose? No, unless you count bringing disease and annoyance to the general population a purpose. They simply land on people, suck their blood--leaving behind itchiness and swelling--, then multiply. My currently theory is if all mosquitoes in the world were mysteriously killed no one--save that one weirdo--would care. Everyone would just celebrate one less threat to mankind.

In conclusion, mosquitoes are the worse.

#Challenge of the Week CXVI #bugs #nonfiction #serious issue #kidding #vampires #blood #humans #insects #mosquitoes #mosquito #useless

Kasimir had a lot of enemies, did not have enough cash, and sorely wished he had been blessed with bat wings instead of the tiny horns and jet black tail that was whipping back and forth behind him. These were his thoughts as he raced through the center, bag of apples and bread roll wrapped tightly in my fists.

Midnight hair whipping in the wind, Kasimir snuck a look at his pursuer: the baker. He was only a few paces behind him, yelling garbled curses in a language Kasimir had never bothered to learn and chasing after the boy with more speed than he’d expected for a man of his girth. He probably belonged to the Sept of Gladiolus, they were a religious bunch and obsessed with honor, which explained his eagerness to hunt down the bread-stealing-crow-food. Me. The bread knife clutched in his waving hand was enough incentive for Kasimir to sprint faster.

One wouldn’t think a bread knife would be particularly dangerous, unless that person is being chased through a market at top speeds. In this case, said nine inch bread knife became increasingly terrifying.

Especially when, as Kasimir swerved around the corner, the blade suddenly cut into a wood post behind him. Even though he was aiming for Kasimir, the boy couldn’t help the surge of admiration at his predator’s throwing accuracy. This was quickly challenged by gripping anxiety. Spirits, if Kasimir hadn’t turned when he did, the knife would have hit him!

Sneaking a glance behind him, the boy smirked and soon began to laugh. Stealing was exhilarating, a rush in the pit of your stomach that lashed through your bones like lightning. Kasimir loved it: the stealth required to pick a pocket, the wit when finding a target, and the craziness of sprinting away when he screwed himself over--it happened more than he cared to admit. That didn’t stop him from swiping everything he could get his hands on, food, weapons, clothes, or coin.

As such, when his emerald eyes landed on the pearly white necklace in the store cart, he knew there was no going back.

Stuffing the stolen food inside his less than formal pockets, he sauntered--that’s what royals do right--up to the wirier faerie male. His pointed ears twitched as Kasimir approached. His skin was wrinkled, but his eyes were a sparkling gold. His cane clicked on the ground as he shifted closer to his prized merchandise. Like a cockroach.

“I-tictic-May I help you-tictic-boy.”

Kasimir almost abandoned the mission. He hated bugs, they were creepy, and crawly, and had one to many limbs. As if in reply, his tail swished and Kasimir gritted his teeth. It was too late now, the pearls were taunting him. They shimmered in the sun, reflecting little pools of light that Kasimir wanted to bask it. Preening, he shifted closer to the beauties.

“Ya, I… the pearls.”

“Oh, the Akoya Pearl-tictic-Necklace. May I compliment-tictic-your keen-tictic-eyes. They were created by a famous-tictic-crafter of the Sept of Carnation-tictic-who happened to…”

The wiry faerie babbled and babbled, stopping every so often to shift his cane or click his teeth. He seemed happy to tell Kasimir all about the creation of the pearls. Spirit, this is so interesting… wait. No it isn’t. Kasimir knew all he needed to know about the Septs.

The Iris was all about wisdom, purity, and faith--they hosted most of the fortune telling carts. The Orchid was the current ruler, the ones who lived in the High Castle. They were proud, beautiful, and charming. They were also extremely easy to trick, all delicacy and no bite. The Snapdragon symbolized graciousness and strength. Unfortunately, they had bad habits of deception and presumption making them the worse to barter or rob. The Carnation was all about how pretty and perfect they were. They changed moods like the flip of a coin from loving to capriciousness, to disdainful, to innocent, to outright refusal. They were harder to read than poetry. Finally, The Gladiolus--like the baker--valued character, faithfulness and honor. All Sept faeries were marked with a tattoo--that they received at age ten--of a scaling flowers, raging in colors and liveliness, normally according to the their mood.

Of course, all faeries knew this before they could even walk--even street rats like Kasimir knew your Sept was your code, your family. Kasimir didn’t have a Sept or a flower tattoo, being an orphan and all, so he joined one. A gang the higher classes liked to dub them. Sept of Corvus, the crows, an omen of death and bad luck. Kasimir lived up to at least one of those.

Grinding his crooked teeth in the attempt to grin, Kasimir interrupted the faerie. The repetitive clicks were driving him up a wall and he was a jumpy person to begin with, this can’t be healthy.

“How much?”

“Fifty silver-tictic.”

Spirit! I don’t even own a copper.

The appalment must have shown on Kasimir’s face for the wiry man grew perfectly still--the kind of still only faeries can accomplish. He ran a golden eyes over Kasimir and the boy paled. His cover was shotty at best of the top of his head, he didn’t even know a good fake name. Not to mention, he had no tattoo to prove his joining of a Sept.

His fight or flight instincts hit him like a freight train, and he grabbed for the pearls. Pushing down the urge to grab for the dagger in his boot, took most of Kasimir’s self control. Even more so when the bony hand that grabbed his wrist was abnormally strong--especially considering the faerie looked over a hundred. Shivers ran up Kasimir’s spine at the hardened grip, that he tugged uselessly against. Spirits, he will give me to High Guard. No, no, no, no! Devils and crows!

“You a-tictic-thief.”

“N-nah!”

“You-tictic-tried to steal my-tictic-jewelry.”

“Please, sir! I didn’t mean no harm! I only--”

A polished female voice echoed behind Kasimir, “May I say, the boy was fetching them for me.”

The shopkeeper froze, wrinkled skin leeching color by the second. Slowly, he released Kasimir’s hand, cane clicking against the cobbled stone. He nodded, and shifted left and right.

Kasimir dared a glance at whoever had spoken, pearls still clutched in his hand like a lifeline.

“Spirits…” the boy whispered, jaw dropping then promptly snapping shut.

The girl behind him was drop dead gorgeous faerie, her brown hair well down her back in waves and her slate blue eyes narrowed in a scrutinizing gaze that latched on Kasimir. A mesh pattern just barely covering her cleavage changed into a vibrant green fabric that draped to the her feet. Her back was bare, long expanses of flawless cream with orchid’s etched into skin. The flower crawled up her back and across her collarbones, red and pink blossoms blooming.

“May I thank you, I was just on my way to collect them.”

The pearls.

She reached out a hand.

No.

Kasimir looked like a lost, kicked puppy. You don’t kick puppies Sept of Orchid! He was horrified, this stuck up fae angel wanted to steal his almost stolen pearls! The itchy urge to grab the dagger pressed against the skin of his ankle was rising by the second. But, she did save his head from the chopping block. Prying his fingers from the necklace, it dropped with a clatter into her waiting palm.

Then he ran.

#thief #fiction #fantasy #faerie #chapter1 #fairy #fae #irish #boy #magic #highschool

Everyone will be sad for the next few hours, that was normal. None of us had gotten picked when the family and their two kids had come running in, searching for a new puppy. But despite not getting chosen I would not let that ruined my spirits, nope, at times like this, I was the most optimistic. As I pranced around DogVill, or as the humans call it a “pound”, the only home I had ever known, I observed all the whimpering dogs. Padding over to my two friends, Maple and Juniper, I encouraged them to stay happy.

“Come on guys! There is always tomorrow. There is no reason to be whining like a pair of spoiled pups,” I tell them all the while prodding them with my nose.

“But, we were not picked! We will never be picked!” howls Maple.

“Honestly how can you be so happy all the time Roux?” asks Juniper with a whimper.

I simply lick them back, “Because I know one day I will get picked and then I will see the outside world!”

It had always been my deepest desire the see the green grass and blue sky. I loved to spend my day imagining the world, it’s vibrant colors and exciting experiences. So, whenever I am sad I hold onto the fact that one day my dreams will become a reality… I hope.

“Mommy! I can not wait to get a puppy, I will love her and sleep with her!”

Everyone’s ears perk at the shouting of the small child in the lobby. As she enters our room the dogs all flock to her like moths to a light. The young human is wearing a bright pink dress and two pigtails with white ribbons in her hair. I slowly make my way through the crowd of dogs and eventually find her hand and nervously rub my golden head against it. She looks down at me and her face breaks into a grin.

“I found her mommy!!! I wanna get the golden one. She is so pretty and fluffy,” the girl announces and she pets my head. I can not believe it, I am getting picked! My dream is coming true but what if the world is not what I believe it to be. What if I do not like it? The one she calls “mother” walks in with a smile on her face.

“Oh Julie, that one is very cute. What is her name?”

“Roux,” I bark that them.

The girl bends down the check the band around my name and says, “Rooo--x, I think?”

The mother laughs quietly before assuring the girl that she is correct. The next few moments are a blur of happiness and wonder: I get checked out, brushed, and hugged many times. Then it happens, I walk outside. For a moment I just stare, dumbfounded by the colors of the grass, the sky, and the rushing objects that move faster than the speed of light. I shout at them, asking them who they are and why they can go so fast but none of them respond. Julie leads me with a new green string they attached to my new band to an oddly shaped box. Then the mother opens the side of the blue box and looks at me expectantly. I simply cock my head to the side before cautious jumping inside, Julie smiles at me when I do this so it must be right.

“Aah!” I bark when the box suddenly buzzes to life. I have never been inside a moving box, it feels scary and wonderful at the same time!

“Oh my gosh!!! The box is moving! The box is moving!” I bark, jumping up and down as Julie and her mother laugh.

The world outside the box starts moving, the colors swirl together to create a meld of beauty. To show my thanks to Julie for showing me that moving box I lick her face with my wet, pink tongue. Eventually, the world outside slows back down, then finally stops. Once again the mother opens the door and I jump out. Julie leads me to an odd looking building “my home,” Julie tells me. As we enter my home I stare at all the colorful furniture, once I have settled down I noticed Julie beckoning me to an odd rectangle of pillows. I cautiously get on top of it and after confirming it is safe I snuggle down next to Julie. The world really is amazing just like I thought. Thank you, Julie, I can not wait to share more experiences with you!

Magic is considered abnormal

The idea people could fly or read minds

Just never seemed formal

We have never gone to other worlds and the fault is mankinds'

Love is the means to the end and the beginning of a story.

Maybe the story is a mystery or maybe it is a tragedy.

The end of the story may end on a high note

Or their world will come crashing down around you.

Love is strained and hurtful

Love is daring and fruitful

Love is putty in the hands who can wield it

E is for enternal

Your choices are set in ink as if life is a journel

N is for notice

You only realize the bad choices when they circle you like locus

D is for dawn

Once the end is over the beginning is far from gone

In the end, you will only begin

She wears her smile like a sash. No one asks her why, but she always frowns when the party ends. During the day, she is full of life. She dances and smiles, making coy gestures. At night the corners of her mouth never twitch up, and her body is still. She wears her hair in curls, her blue eyes are innocent, but she hates being the sweet-faced liar.