feather light kisses

on my soft skin

the caress of you fingers

against mine

you are my joy

you are my passion

close your eyes my love

rest on our bed

sleep gently

as I lay besides you

the night hides nightmares

but I will keep you safe

under the gentle beats

of my fragile heart

put your arm around me

as the sleep takes you deeper

so I will feel safe too

surrounded by your love

and the feather light kisses

that you wake me up with every day

...

It was a frosted Valentine's Day in Brimstone. The sun had set upon the winter city and its people were out on their date nights. One particular couple, Carmen Gravely and Lu Lightbringer, strolled along in the snow-covered Virgil Park.

This Valentine's Day was particularly a cold one. Carmen was all bundled up with her thick winter coat, large mittens, and cotton earmuffs. Lu on the other hand wore only his signature red suit with an even redder scarf around his neck. He never shook whenever a cold breeze brushed through their pathway. However the two kept each other warm walking through the park together, with arms wrapped around the other.

"Now this is what I call date night," the devil grinned. "No children to intrude us, no business to take care of..."

"No demon cronies popping in to ask what the proper torture method should be?" his mortal queen added.

"That too."

"It's been a wonderful date night so far," Carmen said. She craddle under her husband's arm. "Dinner, a movie, and now walking in the midst of a winter night; and all of it on Valentine's Day. It's just so... romantic."

"Do I know how to plan it or what?" Lu boasted proudly.

"I'll give you credit, you do have your moments. I especially love this time of year. Everything looks so beautiful with all the frost and snow. Although I could do without the cold temperatures. Speaking of which, you sure you didn't want to grab a coat or something warm? It's very cold right now."

"Really? This feels more like tanning weather to me. Of course I—being a demon—can adapt to any environment I'm in. But we're not done yet. Check out this gorgeous view."

The pair then walked to a nearby bandstand that overviewed the frozen lake. They stared out to the beautiful scenery of the full moon's glistening reflection off the crystal clear surface of the large lake. Sighs of admiration expelled out both Lu and Carmen as they observed the peaceful winter around them. Lu then looked to his wife and noticed something amist. While her flawless face expressed tranquility and joy, her eyes looked sorrowful the more she looked onto the lake. For a moment he thought he caught her wiping off a tear under her right eye.

"What's wrong?" the troubled devil asked.

Carmen kept her smile strong and shook her head. "It's nothing. Doug used to take me here a lot too. I'm sorry. I don't mean to make this awkward."

"I didn't mean upset you by taking you here," the devil sighed. "I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention-"

"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong." Carmen grasped her second husband by his hands and looked deep into his scarlett eyes. "My first husband... he'll always hold a place in my heart. But I've made plenty room in my heart for you too. And besides, you'd be surprise how much you two have in common."

"Yeah? How so?"

"Well you're both good looking. Charming. Sometimes you both can be egotistical and stubborn. More you than him, honestly." the devil chuckled from her words, knowing that it was all true. "But, you both are real good with the girls and to me, and you both have a very good heart."

Her statement was enough to help bring a sweet smile on Lu's sinister lips. "So, what exactly did you two do here?"

"Well we would just dance at the center here," Mrs. Gravely explained. "Sometimes with music playing in the background. Other times we would dance without music, but we would always hear it inside our heads."

Lu then got an idea. He knew exactly how to make this night better. He stepped back and directed his wife to the center of the bandstand. "You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?" he cheesily said.

Carmen chuckled but accepted his invitation. Together they centered themselves in the small structure. Step by step their feet moved in graceful rhythm. Slowly and softly they danced. Her arms wrapped around his neck while his hands placed gently above her waist as they guided each other in the silent, winter night. No music was playing anywhere but they heard the music that was played on their wedding day in their heads. The moonlight beamed perfectly above them through the skylight frame above.

During the entire dance routine their eyes remained locked. Their love unlike any other kept them warm from the cold air. When their dance slowed down, Carmen rested her head on Lu's shoulder. "Can this night get any better?" she whispered gratefully.

Any better, she said. Lu hatched another idea. "I might know a way. Follow me."

The Ruler of Hell took his wife by the hand and they fled down towards the frozen lake. Carmen asked what her husband's intentions were but he never answered. They ran through the snow until the reached the lake's edge. Lu coached her to step onto the ice with him, yet Carmen was nervous. She worried about stepping through thin ice to wherever her husband wanted to lead them towards. Though the ice did appear to be solid—and Lu didn't fall through when he stepped on it alone. Worse case he can get them out hastely, which gave Carmen some assurance.

Careful with each step they walked on the thick icebed. Lu balanced out Carmen so she wouldn't slip on the surface until they reached their destination. Several feet away from the shore and they stopped.

"This looks like it's perfect." Lucifer exclaimed. Carmen scratched her head at what he was doing. Lu aimed his hand down at the spot in front of him and blasted it with his magic fire. The flames roared as it melted a hole on the surface. After twenty seconds Lu's fire stopped burning and there was now a good sized hole in the frozen lake.

The next step the devil played was stick his finger into the freezing water. To anyone else the water would have turned bare skin into popsicules, yet Lu was unfazed. Once his finger was dipped into the icy water it boiled and bubbled like it was cooked. The cold temperatures gave way to hotter ones and now they had an instant, natural hot tub.

Carmen applauded his trick but still questioned his true motives. She watched as he removed his scarf around his neck and dropped it near the small, hot pool's edge. Then she blushed when she saw that he started removing each of his cloths one by one. The bashful queen worried someone was going to walk by the park as he continued to undress.

Finally Lu stood on the ice, stark naked before his queen. Carmen figured he must be freezing by now. He would always squeal like a girl whenever he was blasted by cold water in the shower. Nevertheless he was fine, despite a cold breeze that ran through his underworld.

Lu settled inside the boiling waterhole he made and sighed in relief. The waters touched around his shoulders and the temperature was set perfectly.

"Wow, I can touch the bottom," Lu joked. He then stretched out his hand to his wife. "Room for two, my queen."

Mrs. Gravely giggled again. She thought he was crazy, another quality that he shared with her first husband. She remembered how in the past Doug would participate in annual winter splashes with other community members in Brimstone, refusing every time. But perhaps this was a time for a change, she thought. And the temptation was intriguing. Once more Carmen made a quick survey of the area, just to double check no one walked by again. A quick check to the left and then to the right, and it looked as though the coast was clear. Slowly it was her turn to remove each ounce of her clothing. One by one a layer of clothing came off until she stood as naked as he was. The only thing she kept on were her glasses. She was blind as a bat without them.

Cold air touching her bare body made her shiver. Her teeth chattered along with her shaking body. Her right arm strapped around her breasts as she quickly took Lucifer's and and jumped right in feet first. Carmen gasped with overjoy. That cold air that coated her bare skin melted away from the perfect, warm pool that her husband provided. Her feet touched the muddy bottom too, which was just as warm as the bubbling water.

Carmen drew herself closer to her second husband and he held her close. Their loving eyes glued dazed to each other once more. Suddenly the two found themselves dancing all over again inside the warm waterhole under the enchanting moonlight. Lu stroked his hand through his wife's short hair and asked. "You ever skinny dipped with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

"Oh come on," Carmen laughed and rolled her eyes from her husband's corny line. "you gotta have something better than that."

"How about this..." Lu smiled and came up with something better. "You've given me life when I've spent most of my days lifeless."

She smiled. It was one of the most sweetest things she had ever heard the devil say. Lu then leaned his head in for a kiss. Carmen responded the same and kissed him on his lips. Their kiss together felt like it could last an eternity. Skinny dipping in an improvised hot tub, dancing in each other's arms, and kissing under the bright moon; this was definitely a Valentine's Day to remember forever.

"You know it's gonna suck coming out of this, right?"

"Not for me."

Happy Valentine's Day!

#sinsofthefather #fiction #comedy #fantasy #horror #devil #romance

On everyone’s 13th birthday, a tattoo appears on them with what their soulmate will first say to them. Today is your 13th birthday. You woke up and immediately began to search your body for your tattoo. Finally, you found it. It was written in very small letters across your stomach. You have never been more disappointed in your life. It read, “Hi.”

Out of all the phrases in the world, your soulmate was going to say the most basic, most common of them all to you first. Great. Just great. It could literally be anyone. You knew immediately this was going to ruin your life. You knew from then on, you would be searching for people’s tattoos as soon as they say hi to you.

Years passed and you counted exactly twenty one people who said hi to you first. Your response was always the same, “Nice weather we’re having!” It wasn’t a phrase you would first expect from someone, but it wasn’t to uncommonly said to be considered weird. Out of the twenty one people who you knew had said hi to you, you had only been able to spot the tattoos on thirteen of them. The others didn’t seem to be the type of people you would want to be your soulmate, so you let them go, but kept their names just in case.

At the age of twenty, you began to lose hope. You wondered if you would ever find your soulmate. The odds didn’t seem to be in your favor whatsoever. All of your friends were living happy lives with their soulmates, and you couldn’t find yours. You then were contacted by one of your best friends from middle school who also hadn’t found their soulmate. At least I’m not the only one, you thought.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asked.

“No.” you responded. You were glad you weren’t meeting in person. You hated when people saw you blush. It came at times you needed it the least. Normal people don’t get embarrassed when they can’t remember things that happened almost a decade ago, you reminded yourself.

“Well, let me try to refresh your memory,” he replied.

“Go ahead.”

“When we were in 7th grade, we were partnered up for a project in LA. You were so shy, you didn’t say one word to me until you absolutely had to. When we sat down at our table, I started by saying, ‘Hi’.”

Your mouth began to open and formed a perfect ‘o’ as you began to realize what was about to happen. You had waited everyday since your 13th birthday for this moment.

“You didn’t reply, and I didn’t try talking to you again for about 10 minutes. I suggested we take turns reading the chapter we had been assigned. You nodded in agreement and immediately started reading. ‘Nice weather we’re having’. That was the first thing you ever said to me. A sentence out of a book. It was a fairytale, might I add. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize… you’re my soulmate.”

You gasped. It was the first sound you had made since you realized what was finally happening. You had never understood when people said they were speechless. All at once, you understood. You had never been happier in your life.

Finally, he spoke again. “Just kidding. I found my soulmate years ago. Happy april fools day!”

Once again, you were glad they had not met up to do this. If there was one thing you hated more than people seeing you blush, it was when people saw you cry. The tears fell silently as he proceeded to tell you all about the fantastic life he was living with his soulmate. He wished you well and said goodbye. You collapsed on the floor. Once again, your life was a mess.

You never did find your soulmate, but you gained a new best friend. Her name is Revenge.

My mother tolerated my imaginative pranks, probably deeming them highly excusable frivolities given my blindness, as long as they were benign. Today, I felt particularly audacious. I finally submitted my excruciatingly boring paper on probability of coincidences to my philosophy teacher. Mr. MacDonnell is an iron-fisted educator who every fellow senior at Santa Rosa High loves to hate. Oddly, I came to appreciate his unsparing attitude, even towards me-for I despise pity. I do not exist to make others feel better about themselves. As a little boy, often savaged by brutally honest peers, I learned tricks to blend in without revealing my disability. You see, sometimes, the practical jokes were all I had.

Soon after I leaned back in the sagging velour seat, the train jolted, scraped and screeched into motion. The journey from Santa Rosa to Oakland was supposed to take fifty minutes but common travelers knew how decrepit the train really was, with constant signaling problems and engine malfunctions. Loneliness is my worst enemy; it was proving to be hard to entertain my bored mind as the minutes ticked away.

It was not until a few stops later did I hear the faint hissing of the coach’s sliding door. I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my inventiveness begging for the fellow commuter to take a spot near me. The floorboard creaked as slow footsteps grew louder. Pages, presumably from a book, flipped like wings of a butterfly. A heavy thud followed, probably the fall of a bulky binder. I heard a moan, loud and subtle-free, like the chime of an Iphone in a quiet classroom. Only a teenage girl’s temperament could unleash that flavor of exasperation. Her perfume was too fruity to belong to an adult. Yet, the way she groaned showed a recent surge of confidence, assumably through the graceless phase of puberty. I hypothesized, somewhat wishfully, that she was a year or two younger than me. I hoped that my useless eyes, which seem to have a mind of their own, did not wander aimlessly to give my secret away.

Despite the close proximity, I cursed the space between me and this fellow being. I was like a strange bird who wanted to fly into this person’s world. A swift air swept against my knees as the she took the seat opposite me. I could feel her discomfort. She was probably sitting tall and upright. I surmised that this vertical position was adopted to prevent the grime and rust from trickling into her hair. I felt a slight tremor on the floor as her foot tapped like a woodpecker. Her gawky nature made her a suitable target for banter. I was ready with my opening gambit.

“Haven't we met before?” I lied. I awaited eagerly through a seemingly eternal pause.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think we have. Do you also go to Piner High School?” she asked, somewhat hesitantly, with a blend of amusement and suspicion. Her tone was delicate, but her words came out like sharp crystals as if her mother would make her stop and repeat the words if they were not clearly enunciated. If I said yes, she would quiz me about mysterious teachers and classes. A wiser move would be to go back to elementary school days, which should now be sufficiently vague remnants of the past.

“I am quite sure we went to the same elementary school,” I claimed, hoping she would take the bait.

“No, that can’t be right. I stayed in China during those years,” she countered with sudden haste.

Dang it! Fiddling into another person’s life is a tricky game of chess. One bad move, and you are backed into a corner with no escape.

“But, I did not move until halfway through second grade,” she unconsciously re-opened the door of connection.

“Uh, yes, yes, the girl headed to China, now I remember you,” I exclaimed with coyness.

“Wow! It’s funny running into you here, after all these years.” I almost laughed at her naivete.

“Where are you headed to?” I questioned.

“San Francisco.” I sighed with relief. Her stop was before mine. I did not want her to watch me as I exited the train with my white cane.

“Yeah, I knew you looked familiar. Actually, you have not changed at all,” I went on eagerly.

“Really? How did you recognize me?” She sounded dubiously entertained. I could play safe, but I decided that life was too short for that.

“Your walk,” I said whimsically.

“My what? Are you saying you recognized me by my walk?”

“Yes.”

“Really? How do I walk?”

“With confidence. You always walked with confidence and swagger,” I flirted away.

She laughed, but I sensed a dead end to this line of conversation. So, I asked: “Why did you move to China?”

She paused. She was analyzing me. I sensed this because the hairs on my arms pricking up, usually a sign that someone is watching me closely.

“My father is a pastor. We move around a lot. I also lived in Greece.”

That was an unexpected twist. “I bet Greece is beautiful. You had lots of gyros there?”

“What is that?”

“Gyros. Gyros, like the Greek flatbreads with meats in them?”

“I’ve never seen one.”

“But you lived in Greece!” I exclaimed. What an airhead.

“Oh! Gyros,” she babbled, bollixing it up even more.

Quickly adapting the subject, she continued, “Greece is indeed a beautiful place. I enjoy seeing new places. Different colors, people and cultures.”

“It sounds amazing. How come you moved back?”

“Because I want to go to college here. Air Force Academy. I want to be a fighter pilot.”

I was surprised. She did not seem like the type to join the military. Rather, I pictured her growing up into a missionary lady with tall shoes, threadbare clothes and short hair, not somebody ready for battle.

“Why a fighter pilot?”

“My father always told me I have amazing vision and sense of direction. I am a pretty grounded person. But I really need to get over my fear of heights though.”

I almost ruptured a lung from the laughter I suppressed. Fear of heights? How can she want to be a pilot?

As if reading my bewildered mind she, yet again, changed the subject.

“What about you? ”

“Painter. Sketches of people and their expressions,” I responded.

“Can you draw my portrait?”

“With my eyes closed,” I bragged.

“How about the expressions of the hobbo right outside, on your left?”

I felt trapped. I ventured with, “Sure, I would emphasize on the wrinkled face, and his lack of …”

“You mean her lack of, right?”, she interrupted.

“Yes, of course, I must be blind,” struggling to redirect my fake gaze to the left. “I mean her lack of emotion and her obliviousness to the damn world.”

“Amazing,” she said, not very convincingly. “Hey, I think this my stop.”

I was disappointed. I was on a roll. She got up in a klutzy manner as her knees popped below her.

“It was nice seeing you, again!” she chimed meekly.

I faked a smile and forced my eyes to track her exit based on her unexpectedly sluggish footsteps. I felt good about today’s adventure.

“Nice seeing you too,” I echoed dispiritedly as the girl treaded down the platform.

Before I could start reminiscing about the pleasant encounter, a boy asked if the seat in front of me was taken. It took more effort, but I kept the pretense of sightedness, and I nodded with a smirk.

“Hey dude, who is the girl you were just talking to?”

“I actually don’t know her,” I told truthfully, for a change.

“What a gorgeous girl. How sad.”

“What do you mean?”

“She is blind, dude! Couldn’t you see that?”

I was silent for the rest of the ride. I was in disbelief. Everything she said was being replayed in my mind like an endless game of spin-the-bottle, all pointing towards the same evidence: she figured out I was blind too, because a person with functional eyes would have seen she has no vision. So, she wanted to be a pilot, and loved colors, people and places-I would not have lied more convincingly. She probably also made up going to Greece or China, which explains why she did not know what gyro is. There was no “hobo to the left”. I fell right into the trap.

The girl knew I was lying blatantly, and she swung away gloriously with her own fiction. This entire time I thought I was playing her like a fiddle, but really, she turned out to be the conductor. It took a kindred spirit to understand my game. Ironically, had she been a person who could see, she would have been in the dark-only a blind person could see right through my lies.

“Ew!! What an ugly doll! Why did auntie bought such a horrid doll?! I hate it!” Those were the first words I hear from my owner, and it was not the last.

My owner was spoiled, living like a princess, who only played with pretty dolls, and throws me around whenever she gets a temper. I was never loved by this “princess” nor was I treated fairly as my stitches began to loosen, my colorful clothes dirtied, my limbs almost torn, and one of my button eyes is missing. I was a tattered old jester doll that can only smile to mask my sadness and pain.

Then one day a new girl came to visit. My “princess” had invited a “peasant” girl, who seemed to make my owner happier than her rich friends. They were having a grand tea party while my “princess” gathers her favorite dolls to join in. My owner saw me and merely kicks me aside as I rolled around on the floor. How I longed to cry, when suddenly I find myself being wrapped by small, warm hands that hold me gently, and a pair of mysterious eyes from the new girl met my damaged smile. I met her face as she dusted off my own, and studies my awful condition with pity. She had such gentle hands, a face of simple beauty, and long ivory hair that mocks the raven. She caress my face o so tenderly, which made me quiver from this strange kindness.

“Don’t bother with that THING, Branni! It’s not invited to our party!” said my owner rudely. The quiet “peasant” girl named Branni said nothing, but simply placed me beside her, though my owner protested, Branni convinced her to let me stay. Neither of them interacted with me, yet I feel so warm beside young Branni’s side. From then on, I was always happy whenever the dear girl visited us; she would hold me, hug me, cherish me, as though I was her favorite toy in the whole world. Then I noticed something. Our “peasant” girl was really a grand “doll maker”. She was skilled in crafting and sewing, and fixed my owner’s favorite doll, which won her friendship before. The “doll maker” asks for permission from the “princess” to fix my broken body. She scoffs and replies, “If you like it so much, then take it! I don’t care what you do with it! Try and turn him into a prince!”

I couldn’t believe my owner’s words, but Branni waisted no time and accepted the challenge. With her skilled hands she picked out bright blues and reds, planned carefully for additions, and sewed with great concentration. She gave me a perfect button to match my other, a cape with bizzare designs, golden bells, my limbs re-attached, and made me new clothes perfect for a jester like me. Branni smiles as she shows me my relfection on the mirror. “Do you like it, Mr. Jester?”

Why . . . I . . . Who is that handsome jester smiling back at me? Surely, this is a dream! But Branni’s warm smile tells me it’s not. It was as if she knew I was happy, but my “princess” was not. My owner pushed Branni away in fury and shouts, “Get out!!! I don’t want to see you again!!! Get out of my sight!!!” Poor Branni was confused, but I have the strangest feeling the “princess” was yelling at me. We were both out of the “princess’s kingdom” while Branni stood outside with me in her arms. With no other choice she walked home with me as her companion. I should feel heart-broken, yet I do not feel sad. I feel . . . glad.

Ever since that day I have been living with Branni in her room, never once returned to my “princess”. Branni had made such wonderful, unique dolls of her own that her own room looked like a real magical kingdom, and I was her grand jester. For years I’ve watched over her: her craftsmanship, her imagination, her kindness, and her tears and laughter. Whenever she was happy she would tell me the good news and hug me tight, and when she was sad she would hug me more, and we would sleep together. Then I noticed something. Young Branni was growing into a fine young lady. Her tiny hands had grown into long, slender hands that still caress me o so gently, and her tiny figure had changed to that of a woman, while her face grows more beautiful everyday. But the more she grew the lonelier she became. She cries in her bed at night and no longer tells me her sad stories. Then, one night, she was so depressed that she tenderly held me and brought me to her face. I could feel her warm tears coming from those mysterious eyes as she spoke in a sing-song voice:

“My dear, dear jester, I am very lonely.

I don’t want to be the hero anymore.

I want to be the damsel, who is rescued

By a handsome prince, or a shining knight.

But I do not want a handsome prince or knight.

I just want someone to take me away

To a magical world, where I can be

A whole new me.”

Such lonely words made my invisible heart beat loudly, and how I yearned to grant her wish. Many days passed since that night, but my Branni stills smiles and felt better after talking with her friends. Then one fateful day Branni brought a guest. Entering her room was my “princess”, who had grown maturely herself yet I could tell she was still the same spoiled child as before. It had been YEARS since my “banishment”, but I knew they had fixed their friendship years ago and continued to see each other. The “princess” studied Branni’s room, marveling at her artwork and crafts, when she spotted me. She approaches me with a blank yet firm gaze for quite a while until she smiles. “My, Branni! You still have this doll? I’m surprised you haven’t got bored of it. You must really like him.”

“He’s special and unique to me, so I’ve always liked him,” replied Branni while my pale face feels oddly warm and my stuffed chest tightens. The “princess” looks at Branni as though she was odd, but smiled and said, “May I have him back?”

“What?” Pardon?

“I like him,” said the “princess” as she turns to stare at me. “Of course, as a child I loved pretty dolls more, but seeing him now and his new look, makes me want him again. You’re really talented, Branni, and I love this new look you had given him. That just makes him more valuable to me because I also love your craftmanship. Truthfully, I was jealous of both of you. I was jealous at how you turn rags into beautiful dolls, and for a moment I used to think this jester loved you more than me because of that. I don’t know why, but it irritated me as a child, and so I got mad. But he looks so wonderful! You really are a genious, Branni!”

I sat there dumbfounded and Branni shocked. I turn my sight towards her and she to me, and during that moment her eyes revealed a broken heart. I was then being carried by the “princess’s” fair hands as she giggles happily. “Please, Branni! He IS my doll. It’s only right you give him back.”

No . . .

Dear Branni placed her hands behind her back, which formed into fists, as she bit her bottom lip while the “princess” spoke again, “You can make yourself a new jester doll, exactly like this one. Afterall, you’re very talented, Branni! I know you can do it easily!”

No . . . .

The “princess” then makes her first step towards the door as I felt my paradise slowly slipping away. I wish to reach out my gloved hand out to my dear Branni, who looks at me with teary eyes. We walked down the stairs as I look past the “princess’s” face and find Branni’s. Stop her! Tell her!! Branni!! Step by step, I was losing my sight of my “colorful kingdom” and of my dear girl. ‘Unhand me! I must return to Branni, my true princess!’ Those were the words I wish to shout, but my stitched smile wouldn’t let me. No! I don’t want this! Branni! Call for me! Say my name!! The “princess” skipped playfully as she held me. Branni, my dear!! I beg of you!! Please!! Branni took a hesitant step, but clutches at her chest. Branni, reach out your hand! I don’t want to leave you! It was as though she had no right to say no, but she looked at me and moved her lips.

I don’t want to leave Branni alone! I’m her grand jester! I’m her true friend! Branni then starts moving her feet and follows after the “princess”, who heads for the door. I don’t want to leave like this, not when she’s so lonely! Please, say my name and I will serve you! That’s right! Branni is my princess, and my damsel still in distressed. I want her to be greedy! I want her to be selfish! I want her . . . to love me more!!!

“Come back . . . Jester . . .”

I could take it no longer.

And at that moment I became something anew. My body had grown with a powerful force of feelings that dwelled inside me. I was no longer a mere puppet on strings, nor was I the same toy jester. The two young ladies looked at me, both in shocked and fear, as I grinned to the “princess”. “So, you wish me back, eh? Well, then let’s play.”

This new body felt strange yet natural to me as I opened a portal and kidnapped the greedy "princess" into an otherly world, where I begin my own game of mischief. I turned to my dear Branni, who looks at me with those beautiful yet fearful eyes. I had my own mixed feelings, too, but I gave her my most charming smile and bowed to her gracefully. There were a million things I wished to say to her, but only a few twisted words come past my painted lips. “If you wish your friend back safely, then you’ll have to play by my rules. Beat my comrades in their own game, and come find me at our castle. I’ll be waiting, my dear Branni.”

I shall grant her wish. I shall give Branni the adventure of a lifetime, entertaining her, testing her, teasing her, and make her my one and true princess. No. My queen. I hear running footsteps following behind, and I knew right away it was my fair lady. I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, Branni. Now let the games begin.

Cackling with wicked glee I prance away while my “comrades” grinned with insanity.

To be continued . . .

Once there was a way,

to get back homeward,

Once there was a way,

to get back home

Sleep pretty darling do not cry,

and I will sing a lullaby…

I remember that song. My Father used to sing that song.

He does not sing it anymore.

My name is Aneliese Voldemort, and I am afraid.

***

My Father is gone to Germany to kill.

I didn’t want him to go. But the big men made him.

I am afraid. I am afraid that the big men will tell me to come with them too, like my Father. I am afraid that my Father will not come back.

That fear is stronger.

At least if they take me, I will see him and will not have to walk so far.

***

My name is Aneliese Voldemort, and I am going to find my father.

***

My name is Aneliese Voldemort, and I am ten years old.

I will leave tomorrow night. I will have 25 euro. And potatoes. And my map.

Russia is very far away from Germany, on my map. It is 5 finger widths. The key says that is 5,417 kilometers.

That is a long way.

But I will travel it, to find my Papi, who is there, because I love him.

I want my Papi.

***

I should start. I have twenty potatoes in my sack, plus two in each of my deep pockets. One for every day, and then some for my Papi, who is sure to be hungry. I also have a parka. And a pink cap my Papi gave me, so that he will recognise me. And my thick socks. And gloves. And snow boots. And furry coat. And thick pants.

I am ready.

Goodbye, house. My name is Aneliese Voldemort, and I will be back.

Soon.

With Papi.

Shigeru is going to come with me. He will protect me. He is my Papi’s sled dog, and I love him. When Papi got in a dog wreck, Shigeru saved him.

The other dogs plunged over the cliff.

Papi does not use sled dogs anymore. I am glad.

***

Shigeru is brown, with a white ruff and blue eyes.

Almost all dogs have brown eyes, but Shigeru is special. He loves me and treats me like a queen. I named him Shigeru because that means luxuriant. Papi was teaching me about antonyms when he bought Shigeru, and Shigeru is anything but luxuriant.

I will go now. There is a long way. I motion to Shigeru, and he comes even beside me. I shoulder my sack, and softly close the door to what once was a home, but is now just a house. I turn the key in the lock, then tuck the key, which I threaded on a velvet ribbon, under my furry coat. It is cold against me, the iron pressing a knot in my chest.

I can not cry.

***

Papi says that crying is dehydrating, and I do not feel like sipping the icy slush on the ground today.

But Shigeru does. He is a funny dog.

I start to walk.

And walk.

And walk.

And walk.

Then I walk a little slower.

I’m trudging now. Why?

My feet are dragging.

I look back. I must be nearly to Germany by now.

I can still see my house.

***

I sit down on a rock. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should wait on the porch until Papi comes back.

This is sounding better every minute.

Yes. Papi would not want me to get hurt because of him.

I am not brave. But that is alright.

I would rather be alive than brave. If I go, I am sure to be hurt. And I do not want our farm to die.

Yes. I will stay.

But Jackes, he is going to war. He lives in the next farm over, and surely he can give my Papi a message, ye? I will ask him.

Jackes told me that he will give my Papi a note for me, if he sees him.

This is good. I write on the note for Papi that I miss him and that I will not forget to not give Shigeru any cheese because it makes him smell and sneeze too much and that I will keep the farm safe until he comes back Love Aneliese.

I write this very fast so that Jackes will give it to him quickly and not have to wait for me to finish the letter.

I look at my note. The writing is squiggly and tilts to the left, but that is okay.

That is how my Papi will know that I wrote it.

He says that it is my trademark. I do not know what that is, but that is okay too. My Papi knows what it means.

***

I see Jackes on his horse, out front. I run out, and reach up high to hand him my envelope, with Papi’s grownup name, Pater Voldemort, written on the front in my special green ink, made from the oily water that seeps into our well in the winter.

Jackes plucks the letter out of my hand, and tucks it in his jacket pocket.

“I will give this to Pater, Aeriel.”

I nod my thanks to Jackes, and he smiles softly at me, then turns and gallops away…

Jackes calls me Aeriel. I like this because it is a light, swift name. Also, it is the name of the singing fairy-tale princess.

A singing princess who could not sing, for a while, because the sea witch stole her voice.

Like someone stole mine.

My name is Aneliese Voldemort, and I cannot speak.

***

I used to, but not since I was two, when She left.

My Papi believes that She stole my voice (along with forty-seven euro.)

She was my mother, but Papi does not like to say that. He calls her a double-crossing-snake-in-the-grass-who-you-had-better-not-talk-about-do-you-hear-me.

That is a long thing to call someone, so I call her She.

It works.

But She stole something else also.

She stole Papi’s heart, although he does not know that.

But I do.

It has been two months. Danielle-from-school’s Papi came home, and Ermine-from-the-church-pew-on-the-left’s husband came home, but not my Papi.

And not Jackes.

Jackes’s family put a black star on the flag on their porch yesterday. This means that Jackes is dead.

I am sad.

No one will call me Aeriel now.

And my Papi will not call me anything.

Mr. Vaudeswreth from the General Store brought a telegram from the Soviet Army today.

My Papi is dead.

I will sew on the black star to my flag tomorrow. I would like to believe that he is coming home for just a little longer.

I wonder if Shigeru will be sad.

Of course he will.

I wonder if God is sad.

He must be.

The world is twisting and burning, dissolving under the gaze of that mean man, Mr. Adolf.

There is so much missing.

What with all the dying these days, no wonder it rains so much. God must cry a lot.

I wish he didn’t have too.

#RainbowUnicorn

As per your decree, I submit this story for your approval.

Once upon a time there lived an old man. The old man had niether wife nor

children and was very lonely. He lived outside the village and had lived there

as long as anyone could remember. He lived his days in repetition, doing the

same thing over and over.

At the break of dawn, he would wake up. He needed no alarm or reminder but

did this out of habit. He would get up and fix a meager breakfast that

consisted of an egg and some toast. His drink of choice was plain water. If it

was good enough for the animals to drink, it was good enough for him was his

thinking. Once his breakfast was done he would take a long walk in the

woods.

There was a time when the old man had a profession and worked inside the

village. Those days were past. He would make fine shoes. The children loved

him because he would pay attention to them but the men and women of the

village thought he was odd. He did good work and didn't cause any trouble so

the villagers had tolerated him. While everybody in the village knew the old

man, none of them knew him on a personal level.

Now the old man only entered the village on a weekly basis and for the

purpose of resupplying his tiny cottage with what he needed to survive. His

life was simple. He never indulged in the pleasures that consume others and in

the end cause them to suffer.

When he finished his long walk, he would return to his cottage. Once he was

there he would go about the work that is required to maintain it's normal

operation. Until one is responsible for the upkeep of a dwelling, one doesn't

realize just how much work it takes to care for it.

After his self imposed chores were complete, the old man would sit down and

read. The old man had lived within a few miles of his birth his entire life, but

the characters he read about in his books took him to far away places. He

traveled the world several times over sitting in his favorite chair. Once he had

read for a little while he would think about the things he had just read. He

would lose himself in the wonder that these different experiences suggested to

his mind.

Finally night would fall and he would put himself into bed, only to repeat the

process again the next day.

At the beginning of this story, I mentioned that the old man was lonely and

what I said was true, the thing is that the old man didn't realize he was lonely.

He had spent such a long time absent from the company of other real people

that he had grown accustom to them not being there. His weekly treks into the

village failed to remind him that everybody needs somebody. It really seemed

like nobody needed him and the thought never even occured to him.

One thing that is true is that people talk. People take notice of you and the

things you do even when you don't think that they do. People will talk about

your appreance and actions to each other even when you think that you are

invisible to them. The old man was no exception. When the old man entered

the village each week, the villagers watched him. They talked about his

mannerisms and the things that he purchased during his visits. They

speculated about the things he did outside the village when no one was there

to see what he did. Since the man was old, stories of his youth had been kept

alive to try and explain his strange behavior but no one dared to ask him

plainly.

One boy listened to the stories and had watched the old man when he came

into the village. He would follow the old man around and try not to be

noticed. He became curious about this person that the villagers talked about

but nobody actually talked to. This went on for several months.

One day the boy decided he would follow the old man and see where he lived.

He would be taking a huge risk in doing this because he was not allowed to

leave the village by decree of his parents and besides that, with few

exceptions, no one ever left the village anyway. The possibility of him getting

lost was almost assured the farther he strayed from his familiar surroundings.

The day came when the old man returned to the village. The boy followed him

around as was his custom. When the old man left the village to return home,

the boy continued following him. He stayed far enough away as to keep an

eye on the old man and not be seen. Several times the old man stopped

walking. He took a careful survey of his surroundings as if he were looking for

something specific. Once he was satisfied that everything was normal, he

continued walking again. The boy was nervous. After the old man stopped a

third time he almost sure the old man knew he was being followed.

After walking awhile, the old man turned to the left and the boy lost sight of

him. The boy carefully made his way to the last place he had seen the old man

but once he got there, he didn't see where the old man went. After a few

minutes the boy sat down. He wasn't sure where he was. He wasn't sure where

the village was and he didn't know where the old man went. He just had to

think for a few minutes.

If he couldn't find his way back to the village before nightfall, He was in

danger of being attacked by some wild beast. The old man had made several

turns and the boy wasn't sure if he could go back the way he came. He tried to

keep calm but fear overtook him and he began to panic. Once panic set in he

lost his ability to think clearly.

After about 10 minutes had passed and the boy lost all hope of ever seeing the

village again, the old man appeared as if by magic. The old man didn't speak

but waited for the boy to notice he wasn't alone anymore. After a few more

minutes had passed, the boy looked up from where he was sitting and saw the

old man standing there. The old man just looked at him. The wieght of the old

mans gaze made the boy uncomfortable and he wanted to go home. He stood

up from where he was sitting.

Once the boy stood up, the old man starting walking again. The boy followed

him. He wanted to say something but he kept silent. After a little while they

ended up at the old man's cottage. The old man entered the cottage but the

boy just stood outside because he wasn't sure what to do. The old man left the

door open so the boy could follow and after a few minutes the boy finally did.

When the boy got inside, the old man had already finished slicing off a piece

of bread and some cheese and after putting it on a plate, handed it to the boy.

The boy took the plate from the old man and began to eat. The old man then

sat down at a table and begain eating himself. The boy continued to stand

because there was only one chair at the table which the old man was currently

occupying.

The boy examined the old man as he ate. The old man had short white hair

and blue eyes. The skin on his face had wrinkles in it like it was loosely

attached to his face. The boy then looked around the cottage. There was

something odd about the cottage and it took a few minutes for the boy to

decide what is was. The thing that was odd is that there were no pictures. In

fact there was nothing ornamental in the cottage at all. Everything from the

chair and the table to the plates and the forks where there because they had a

purpose. There was nothing sentimental, nothing to remind someone of a life

that had been lived. Of course the boy didn't think that deeply about the

absense of such things, he just noticed that they were not there.

When the old man was done eating, he got up and went into another room. the

boy dared not move from where he was standing because the old man had not

yet spoken to him and it was not the custom for children to speak first to an

adult.

The old man returned from the room he went into and resumed his normal

routine. The boy noticed that he was holding a book in his hand and

determined that the book must have come from the room the old man

disappeared into. The old man handed a book to the boy and the boy realized

that the old man had brought in two books, not just one. The old man sat back

down in his chair, opened his book and began to read.

The boy still felt uncomfortable but he infered that since the old man had

given him a book, it would be impolite to not at least open it. The boy opened

the book to the first page. He tried reading the book. The book has some

words that he recognizes and some words that he doesn't. Before the boy

realizes it, the old man has gotten up out of his chair and walked over to

where the boy is standing.

The old man could see on the boy's face that he is having trouble reading the

words. So he points to a word on the page and speaks it out loud. Then the old

man goes on to the next word and does the same. He repeats the process until

all the words on the page have been spoken.

This is the first time that the boy had heard the old man's voice. The old man

spoke slow and deliberate. There was a tenderness in his voice which the boy

was not expecting to be there. It put the boy at ease and he started to relax a

little bit. The old man patiently read several pages to the boy and the boy

looked at each word as it was being read. The boy started noticing patterns in

the words and how they were pronounced and after a few pages he became

more familiar with how the words were spoken.

The old man stopped reading abruptly. He closed the books and took them

and put them up. He then took a blanket and made a bed on the hard floor.

After lying down on the bed he had just made, the old man fell asleep.

The boy was astonished at how fast the old man fell asleep after lying down.

It seemed like just a few minutes and he was left alone. The old man did not

say anything else to him after he finished reading the words on the pages of

his book. He mearly made a bed and went to sleep in it.

The boy looked around and noticed that there was an opening to another

room. After entering the room he found an empty bed. The boy realized that

the old man had left the bed for him to sleep in and he started to feel guilty.

After all, he had intruded upon the old man's privacy and became an uninvited

guest. Still, it would be impolite to refuse hospitality so the boy sleep in the

old man's bed.

When the boy woke up in the morning, the realization of what he had done hit him fully. He had left the village without permission. He did not tell anyone what he was doing and he was gone for the entire night. His parents would be worried sick about him and when he turned up, he was sure that his punishment would be more than he could bare. While he was still thinking about this, the old man came in and threw the covers off his bed and walked out. The boy got up and came into the main room to find some breakfast waiting for him. After the boy finished eating, the old man left the cottage. The boy found himself alone. Since the boy did not want to be alone, he followed the old man outside. When he got outside, the old man had already started walking.

The boy followed the old man until they got back into the village. It seemed strange to the boy but the old man seemed to know where he lived because he led him right to the door of his own house. The boy was frightened of returning home because he did not want to be punished for his foolishness.

When his parents opened the door, they found the boy standing next to the old man. They scooped up thier child into their arms because they were so happy to have him back safe and sound. After a few minutes their happiness turned to rage. They motioned the boy inside. They thanked the old man for returning him but other than that they said nothing. They did not ask him any questions nor did they express any anger or dissatisfaction in his actions. The old man did not repond but tipped his head slightly and turned to walk away.

The old man returned to his cottage and his daily routine.

You held my hand as the cold fall air moved around us. I turned my head and gazed into your sad eyes. All the hurt in them shined down on me as the smile fell from my face.

You said, "There is somthing I need to ask you but I don't know how."

I nervously blinked as I said, "You can tell me anything. I'm right here."

Turning, you dropped my hand and took a deep breath, "It's just-. I brought you up here to ask you this one thing because I think you're keeping somthing from me."

I grabbed your arm and spun you around. I laughed nervously as I felt this trickle of shame start to build up, "What are you talking about? What would I be keeping from you?"

You grabbed both of my arms and leaned in close. You asked the one thing I never thought you would ever think of. You inhaled for just one moment then exhaled asking me, "Are we together because you love me or because you are lonely?"

Walking side-by-side, we arrived at a fork in the road. There was a road with your name on it. I took your hand and we traveled it together. We walked for a long time and you emptied out the contents of your mind. Your heart. You told me all of your secrets. Little pebbles that crowded your spirit and suffocated you. You gave them to me. I breathed on to them and turned them into crystals. Then I returned them to you, a beautiful testiment to your pain.

There was a road with my name on it. I took your hand and we traveled it together. We walked for a few minutes in the quiet. I started to speak my truth, stumbling along as I got used to the feeling of being heard. At first, a whisper. It grew stronger with tonal ambition. Then abruptly, you release my hand. Your feet stop moving. I look back at you longingly, hoping you will catch up with me. You stay still, feet planted firmly in the dirt. Then you turn and walk the other way.

I continue walking. My truths become whispers again until they fade back into thoughts, circling my mind. Searching for a safe place for them to find refuge.

I go on walking. Searching for myself. Holding space beside me for the traveler who will desire to walk the distance of my path.

#selfdiscovery #selflove #relationships #love #life #travel